The Moonlight Challenge is an annual fundraising event for the Glen of Imaal Mountain Rescue Team. It’s a 24.5 kilometre night-walk through the Wicklow Hills from Glendasan, through Glendalough to the lodge at Glenmalure. It’s a fun event, very well organised, a brilliant friendly atmosphere and a lovely warm pub at the end.

My friends and I took part in the same challenge the year before. We enjoy fundraising for the Mountain Rescue team as we’re exactly the sort of people who are likely to need them. All members of the mountain rescue team are unpaid volunteers. I follow them on Facebook and always read the descriptions of their call-outs and rescues. I make note of the errors and issues that lead to other hill walkers needing to be rescued. This is important; whenever I need to be rescued, I want it to be for something completely original, foolishness at a level previously unheard of.

Ten of us took park this year, joining about 450 other walkers and 60 runners. To protect the innocent and avoid charges of slander, I have given each teammate an alias in the following account. Including me, there were ten of us in the team, three charming Moonlightettes: Lady Captain, Ms NornIron and Gappy; and seven manly Mooners: Paleface, DoubleD, RedBeard, Gazza, The Grocer, The Rabbit of Infinite T-Shirts and me, Baldfeet.

Through the wonderful power of mutual confusion, all ten of us believed that check-in opened at 4pm. An early check-in would mean an early bus to the start line. It’s important to start early on these challenge events; it maximises the possibility of getting a good seat in the pub at the end. We had bullied one of us into being in charge for the day and our reluctant Lady Captain grudgingly instructed us to meet for lunch in the lodge at 2.30pm. This would ensure everyone would be ready when check-in opened.

I volunteered to be designated driver for those members of the team who lived near me, RedBeard and The Grocer. Unfortunately, in an attempt to keep them occupied in the car, I let my passengers act as navigators on the outward journey. We covered most of County Wicklow, a chunk of County Kildare and a good helping of South County Dublin, before we arrived in Glenmalure an hour late for our lunch. The two lads blamed my Garmin GPS for the delay. I know it’s said that a bad workman always blames his tools; I definitely blame the two tools who were doing the navigation.

Ms NornIron had been the first to arrive. For reasons known only to herself, she left her home at 6am to begin her 2 hour drive. Despite various attempts to waste time while en route (she wouldn’t have the greatest sense of direction), Ms NornIron arrived in Glenmalure at 1pm. She was there to witness check-in opening two hours earlier than we had expected. She also had time to nurse her grievances at those of us who arrived late, and to let those grievances stew, ferment and fester before being served to us on arrival.

While waiting for the rest of the team to congregate, we took the opportunity to ensure we had enough nutrition and hydration for the challenge. The waitress arrived to take our order while I was in the bathroom, so the lads ordered for me. I got a traditional walkers’ meal of deep-fried spring rolls served with sweet chilli sauce and a side of chips; grease and spice being two key elements of the endurance athlete’s food-pyramid. The two lads each had a few pints of Guinness before produced a box of pink coconut mini-macaroons to eat on the bus.

After check-in, fundraising volunteers offered to paint the faces of any walkers who wanted it. Some of the volunteers were make-up artists and some were beauticians, talented and creative experts at decorating the human face. I picked someone else.

Around me I saw people with butterflies and flowers painted on their faces. Others had blue flames and red tendrils and purple leaves. In honour of the event, my face painter made my face into a white night sky, as my large bald head made for search a good moon. She added glitter around my eyes so they shone like stars in the big sky face of my face. It was as subtle as gold glittery eyeliner can be on a bald man with a ginger beard. She then added a handful of bats.

The Rabbit of Infinite T-Shirts (Rabbit for short) went to a different face-painter. He also got bats. While my bats were simple little black silhouettes, (stick-bats if you will), Rabbit’s face was adorned with a cloud of three-dimensional monsters with leathery wings, evil red eyes and sharp fangs. “Damn it”, I said when I saw him, “your bats are way better than mine”. His face dropped. So did the faces of the rest of our team. They were looking over my shoulder, so I turned. My face painter was standing right behind me as I loudly attacked her work. I cringed. I blushed. I felt embarrassed and guilty. I apologised, but the damage had been done. I am a bad person (and she is a bad face painter)*.

Paleface had let us know early on that he wouldn’t make it for lunch at 2.30pm. At 4pm, he let us know he wouldn’t make it for 4pm. At 4.15pm, he let us know that he wouldn’t make it for 4.15pm. Then he let us know that he’d gotten lost. He turned up shortly before the last bus left. As a penalty, he was sentenced to completion of the walk without getting his face painted. Not even a dab of blusher or a dab of gold sparkles. It was a cruel punishment. I know the shame affected him deeply. 

*In retrospect, I realise that the face painter was actually a lovely, charming lady who had very generously donated her time to help strangers have a fun and enjoyable night. She didn’t deserve my criticism on the night, nor does she deserve any criticism now. She was a better face painter than I will ever be. The simplicity of the bats on my face was clearly due to her exhaustion from covering the whole of my extremely large forehead in white paint. No one can be expected to do their best work after an ordeal like that.