'This Day All Gods Die'

The title of one of Stephen Donaldson's sci-fi fantasies came into my mind as I watched the almost farcical collapse of the government in Dublin. It looks very much as though we are watching the near total eclipse of the two parties which have dominated Irish politics for most of the last century. In the south Fianna Fail face not just ejection from government, a temporary inconvenience they have occasionally had to put up with before now, but near annihilation.

And this is not a cyclical thing; recovery is not certain. As we can see in the north, where there is no sign of recovery for the Ulster Unionists. They have been dominant in their patch even longer than FF (largest party in every election in the 20th century is a record which most of the world's dictatorships could only gaze at in awe), but they will be struggling to preserve even their already sadly reduced circumstances in the Assembly elections in May.

We live in interesting time, and it would be nice to think that the downfall of these two old parties, which between them at the height of their powers summed up pretty much everything that was wrong with Ireland, actually represented a real change. But unfortunately there is little enough sign of that.

I did use the word 'farcical' earlier, and it is hard to avoid a reference to history repeating itself, first as tragedy, then as farce. Tragedy isn't the word that you would use about the 'GUBU' days, unless you are referring to the unfortunate murder victims, but Charlie Haughey was a dark, saturnine figure, a dramatic figure, a character from Don Giovanni or Tosca. It would be a real irony if the party which outlived Charlie should finally be laid low by Brian Cowan.

Icebreaker

It’s 7.30, its Saturday morning, there’s frost to clear off the car – why did I ever say I would lead this walk?

And the same in spades a little later, for the roads around Carryduff and Ballynahinch are grim – frozen, snow covered, treacherous. I would be thinking about heading back if it wasn’t me organising the day. Seemed a good idea in October, drawing up the programme in a warm, comfortable hall; doesn’t seem quite so good after a night of freezing snow in the depth of a bitter winter.

I get to Carrick Little anyway, somewhat hoping that no one will turn up, but Carrie and Marie are already there, and incredibly within ten minutes we are 17 strong – the Spartans are out in force.

The carpark is like an ice ring, and the lane is worse – there has been a lot of water running down it which has frozen hard. This is supposed to be the walk in, the easy bit, but it’s like trying to walk up a ski slope. It actually gets better when we get over the gate at the end of the lane and start up the wall to Binnian. The ground, which is usually soft and slippery, is frozen and firm, and snow, of which there is more and more, is firm and crunchy. Its hard enough work getting through it, but there is at least some grip. And there are superb views up the Annalong Valley to Donard and Commedagh. This is a view which could be in the Rockies, and it’s an hours drive from Belfast.

Futher up there are extraordinary ice formations on the wall, where water must have frozen while being lashed by the wind. There are real little whirlwinds - snow devils - swirling madly and then spreading out. They are strong enough to knock you down, as several of us find out. The snow must be close to two foot deep where has built up by the wall.

With the conditions underfoot, the dark looming clouds, and the prospect of a difficult descent we decide to just go for the higher South Tor and leave the ridge and the Northern Tor for another day. We get there, and have a - very - quick lunch on the top, with the visibility falling and the temperature falling faster. It’s eerie and strange; drained of colour. The snow and ice on the ground is rippled and shaped, almost like ice grass.

Coming down is a challenge; there are a few slips and slithers but no major mishaps. Not long after 4 we are warming up in the Harbour Bar in Newcastle. There are days when it would be easy to stay warm at home, but when you are so glad at the end of it that you hadn’t let the weather put you off; this was one. An icebreaker of a day.