Pilgrimage to the Top

On Saturday Hannah and I caught the train from Castlerea and headed up to Westport. We wanted to climb Croagh Patrick, and partake in the famous religious pilgrimage. It is named for St. Patrick and has powerful meaning to the Irish people. It is a beautiful mountain and quite high. People of all ages do it and it isn’t by any means really safe especially in the rain! We caught a taxi out to the mountain after wandering around town trying to find our hostel and then eating lunch. (wonderful soup and cheese garlic bread yummm)…

Noal our taxi driver gave us his # for him to come back and pick us up when we were done. He told us to be careful and take our time and we set out!!! Not five minutes from when we started up the path did it start to pour. The rain mixed with the sweat as we clambered our way up the rocks. It got very steep and gravelly at some points and we had wished we had hired a walking stick for the journey! Everyone but us seemed to have gotten the memo at the bottom and obtained a stick but not us, “lazy” Americans as Leo likes to call us. We were determined not to be lazy and use a crutch in this instance.

            Hannah and I were positive that we saw the top, not the top of the mountain but it was about halfway from the summit and how could elderly people in bare feet make it up further than that??!! Well we got to that point sweating and panting and realizing that even young girls like us are in the same boat as grandma there behind us with her stick. Groaning and loosing momentum fast on this little excursion we looked up towards the summit as rain pelted us creating a suction cupping effect with our jeans to our legs. There was a steady line of little multi colored dots moving steadily up and down the side of the mountain. On we trudge…

            The Irish have a tendency of being sure that they know how long it takes to get places. When asked if something is a nice walk a typical response is “oh yeah, ye will have no trouble. It will take ye near abouts ten min. No problem at all.” This is usually followed by a grin and a reassuring nod. If you add about a half hour to that, give or take a little then maybe you have a rough estimate of the time it will take to do something or to get somewhere. This was the case while heading up the last bit of the mountain. Rain had created a small river where a path should have been, people slipped and slid over slick rocks trying not to tumble down the eighty degree slope. As we scrambled up, wet but grinning descending Irish climbers gave us words of encouragement, “not long now girls! Five more minutes!” Twenty minutes later we are still huffing and puffing scraping up the hill, wishing we had decided to be “lazy” Americans.

            Once we hit the summit we were greeted by a toothless man selling Mars bars and crisps, a spectacular view over the bay and the blistering wind. We quickly took shelter in the door way of the chapel at the summit. The sun peaked through the clouds for a few instances, enough for a few pictures, and then the rain came again.

            Once a year the Irish partake in a pilgrimage to the top of Croagh Patrick in honor of their beloved Saint. St. Patrick is said to have banished all of the snakes from Ireland from the top of Croagh Patrick. But since it is common knowledge that there were no snakes to be found in Ireland we can assume that these so called “snakes” were the other forms of religion, primarily the pagan religions that were present when Patrick arrived on Ireland’s coast. So in thanks and remembrance of their patron saint the Irish climb his mountain bare foot on one day out of the year. Well you know that Lazy American bit, this is where I jump in with the Crazy Irish bit. The path up the mountain is steep and full of rocks. It is not a mamsey pamsey, grassy climb, it is a hard and painful climb. You would have to be nuts or very, very dedicated to climb this mountain bare foot. It is amazing what people do for their religion…I would think they would be clear of the confessional box for a few months at least.

            The climb down was slippery but much faster. We in turn gave those words of encouragement to the Irish, while laughing and grinning. Once back down our knees were shaky and we were soaked through. I gave Noal, our faithful taxi driver and tour guide, a ring and he swung by and picked us up. As he dropped us back downtown in Westport he said beaming. “Well gurls, ye are half way to heaven now!”

            As he drove away I could only think what do I have to do to achive the other half? I have climbed Croagh Patrick, been to the Vatican, seen St. Peters and St. Pauls, am I there yet?