A quick head count revealed that one of the group was missing. He was subsequently found dallying along behind singing loudly at the top of his voice "For these are my mountains and this is my glen" over and over again. The Mournes can have an immediate impact on visitors and quite often it's enough to last a lifetime. I first visited the Mournes many years ago with a group of friends and a two-man tent, important visitors in the past would have their details published in the local papers announcing their intention to holiday in the area for the season. Times have changed along with the class of visitors and by behaving ourselves we just managed to keep our names out of the local papers. Like the gentry we came to experience the wildness and beauty of the Mournes but soon discovered that despite weeks of detailed planning we couldn't all fit into the tent. Luckily a few homesick companions charitably agreed to get the bus back home rather than sleeping in shifts. Those of us who remained burnt beans on a small stove, dried wet gear on fences, and tried to clean potatoes with washing up liquid. Thankfully we didn't attempt to climb any of the mountains for we were ill-equipped to deal with any situations, but they left a lasting impression non-the less. Socks drying on a fence may not be picturesque but at least they are helping to ensure that the mountains will be utilised, valued and preserved by another generation. At a time when so much of what we let our kids do is sanitised and controlled, the Mournes when treated with respect offer an unparallel opportunity for adventure and development. I can't remember what comes after "and this is my glen" but I certainly remember how he felt.