Hills are for climbing. All of my friends know I can't resist a hill when it starts calling my name, whether it's Arthur's Seat in Scotland or an illegal viewpoint in Jordan. Hills need to be climbed, especially if they have a funny name. So Napoleon's Nose in Belfast was exactly the kind of hill I wanted to climb once I'd learned of its existence. It was a sunny day in April, I'd just arrived in Northern Ireland with two Slovenian travel buddies and anything seemed possible. Urška, Žana and I made a shortlist of things we wanted to do in our three days in Belfast, with Napoleon's Nose firmly in second place after the Titanic shipyard. We decided to climb the hill on our second day in the city, because we'd need a full day to get to Cavehill Country Park. Besides, the Titanic shipyard was easier to reach in the limited time we had left before sunset on our first day. But the hill loomed over me as I walked around the shipyard late in the afternoon. It called out my name, and I literally felt butterflies in my stomach as I looked up at it and said: "Tomorrow. Tomorrow we will be up there."

But getting "up there" turned out to be a lot more challenging than any of us could've guessed. Waking up the next morning brought a nasty surprise: My legs hurt. A lot. I shouldn't have been surprised though, I'd walked miles upon miles the previous day. "Me wee legs!" I complained as I got out of bed. Urška and Žana laughed. We'd seen signs saying 'Rest yer wee legs' at the Titanic shipyard and found them hilarious. Now, the phrase came in handy as well. "Me poor wee legs..."
As we got up and had breakfast, we poured over a map of Belfast. Napoleon's Nose was clearly indicated on it, close to Belfast Castle. We decided to pay a visit to the castle while we were at it. The big question, however, was: How are we even going to get there? The map was no help at all, as it didn't show any public transport options. Google surprisingly left us hanging, until I tried to get directions on Google Maps. Again, we were met with slightly unhelpful information, because there would supposedly be only one bus an hour. We felt like that couldn't be true for a city like Belfast, so I scoured my digital map until I found a bus stop somewhat close to Napoleon's Nose. I threw the stop's name into Google and found out that we needed to catch Metroline 1. Since I was the one who'd figured this out, Urška and Žana put me in charge of getting us there. I put on a brave face, but was dying a little on the inside.


"I didn't even know Belfast had a metro system," I said as we left the hostel. "Have you guys seen any stations?"
Urška and Žana shook their heads. We were confused. Could we have been so blind? We were almost at the city center already when I mentioned again that I still hadn't seen any underground stations. That's when a beautiful doubledecker drove past us, with Metro 7 on it. That's when we realized our metro was supposed to be a bus...

After the initial embarrassment had faded, we started looking for our bus stop. It was supposed to be somewhere around the city hall, but again, we couldn't find it. We ended up asking a bus driver for help, who pointed us in the right direction. When we finally found our bus, pardon, metro, we couldn't believe it. Urška insisted on double-checking, so Žana asked the bus driver if we'd get close to Belfast Castle if we got on his bus. He immediately knew we were helpless little tourists, so he promised to give us a shout when our stop would come up. Never before had I felt so much love for an absolute stranger. With sighs of relief and a chorus of "Oh, me wee legs" we sank down in our seats. Then, the unimaginable happened. Just before the bus was supposed to leave, our hero/driver packed his stuff, ended his shift and left us with his coworker.


You could hear a pin drop in the silence that enveloped me and my Slovenian friends.
"Does he know we're here?" Urška asked in a half-whisper. "Does he know the other guy promised to give us a sign?"
"I have no idea..."
"You know the name of the stop, right, Envy?"
I pulled my phone out. Luckily, I hadn't closed the tab with the guesstimate of our route yet. As the bus left the city hall area behind, I counted the stops on my screen and estimated how long it'd take for us to get there. We could relax for at least 10 stops, it seemed, but Urška was tangibly nervous. So was I.
"Is it far from here?"
"Yeah, like seven stops."
"Around here?"
"Getting very close..."
"BELFAST CASTLE," came a shout from the front of the bus.
Miracles do exist. And so do kind bus drivers. As it turned out, my estimate was two stops off, meaning we would've been close to Napoleon's Nose the way the bird flies, while having to walk back for a long time before reaching the entrance to Cavehill Country Park. Now, we just had to follow the brown signs. Before we knew it, we were at the entrance of the park, looking at signs warning us about the dangers of cows. We'd made it. Now the adventure we'd come for could begin.

The park was quiet and pretty. We walked down an asphalt path in the direction of Napoleon's Nose. Not having seen any signs indicating the start of a trail, we thought we'd find it soon enough if we continued in that direction. And while the path was still level, I decided to drop a bombshell.
"Guys."
"Yeah?"
"I'm not sure I'm gonna make it. I tore a muscle in my leg just a few weeks ago and I'm not used to climbing hills. The place I'm from is as flat as a pancake. Our highest mountain is like 250 meters or something. So... yeah... Me wee legs might not make it."
Urška and Žana were a little shocked, more about the flatness of the Netherlands than my torn calf though. They'd spent most of their lives in the Alps, so my country seemed like a fever dream to them. Talking about mountains, we reached Belfast Castle. And although we basically hadn't done anything yet, we decided it was a perfect place to take a break.


The castle was beautiful. Not the type of castle I expected to find in the UK, more like a manor, but beautiful anyway. We wandered around the cat-themed garden looking for all the depictions of cats. We found a poem on a plaque, statues and bushes shaped like cats. Mosaics and more. The only cat we didn't find was the real-life castle cat. After resting our wee legs in the sun for a while, claiming to just be waiting for the castle cat to come visit us, we decided it was time to tackle the trail.

Right outside the castle's premises, we found a big sign with a map of the area and all the hiking trails. We had two options for the loop we wanted to make: start on an intermediate trail that would gradually bring us to the top of the hill, or a difficult and steep trail that would bring us to Napoleon's Nose right away. Us being us, and me being impatient, we chose the latter. At first, this seemed like a great idea. We headed straight into the woods. The path wasn't too steep here, but I wished I wasn't wearing sneakers nonetheless. The further we got, the more rocks, stones and tree roots we had to scramble over. And then... things escalated. Vertical climbing, that's what walking up the path suddenly felt like. My lack of hiking experience in recent years caught up with me. I was struggling, and so were Žana and Urška. As soon as we got out of the woods and found some rocks to sit on, we took a break. "Me wee legs!" was all that was said for a while.


When we felt like our wee legs could carry us again, I checked my phone to see if we still had far to go. We weren't even at the halfway mark... So slowly, we continued hiking. After a while, we spotted one of the three caves that give Cavehill its name. For some undoubtedly genius but as of yet unknown reason, I decided to climb up to this cave. Its entrance was maybe 2.5 meters above us, so I should be able to make it, I thought. But when I was almost there, with my feet one a tiny ledge and my fingertips holding on to minuscule outcrops, I looked down and triggered my vertigo. Pathetic, I know. With a little help from my friends, I got down safely, only to then see a little boy climb up to the cave in ten seconds. At least he told me what the cave looked like on the inside. Urška, Žana and I quickly moved on as if nothing embarrassing had ever happened.

For a while, we simply walked. We talked about the plants we saw along the way, about our degree courses and families. Žana went ahead at some point. Me wee legs couldn't keep up with her. Urška and I followed at our own pace, all the while talking about whatever came to mind. For the first time, I voiced my thoughts about my family. It felt liberating, speaking those words into the crisp air of early April. But as we got closer to the top of the hill, more and more of the words we said came down to "me wee legs!".


When I felt like I'd hit my max, the path became level again. Napoleon's Nose is best described as an outcrop of Cavehill, so we opened the fence next to the signs warning us to be careful and crossed a small passage to join the many other hikers on the tip of Napoleon's Nose. We found Žana near the edge and sat down next to her with a moan of "Me poor, tired, wee legs!". We just sat there in silence, looking out over the city we were exploring together. It was chilly, windy and a little hazy. Maybe it was just smog. It didn't matter. It was all perfect to me. Life came to a standstill on top of Napoleon's Nose, and I... I felt like I could finally breathe again for the first time in a long time.