Well friends,
Here we are again. This blog will be a bit longer than the others because I have a story to tell. Last Saturday, October 23rd I took a train to Westport, County Mayo. The trip was to commemorate a year of my Aunt Mary's passing. Before she died, she had made a request of me to someday go to Croagh Patrick Mountian in Ireland and bury a portion of her hair. She believed that Croagh Patrick was the peak where her father's spirit had ascended a few years prior. She wanted a piece of her to be with her father, so she had given me her hair and asked me to visit Croagh Patrick if I ever made it to Ireland. She died before she knew I was accepted to grad school out here, but I know she knows I'm here.
It was an honour to be able to go there within a year of her death, and it brought a huge element of closure. So, on Saturday I departed for Westport with my friend Courtney with the intention of climbing on Sunday. Here is a picture of the mountain from the train:
When Courtney and I arrived in Westport, we called a hostel to make sure we had a room available. We walked along the river that cuts through the middle of town and arrived at Abbeywood House Hostel. Here's a picture of the town and of the church close to where we were staying:
It was a gorgeous evening, and this was what we could see from the window in our room to prepare us for the next day:
After our 3.5 hour train ride, we freshened up at the hostel and went into town to grab some dinner. We had a gourmet meal at a place called MANGOS. Best seafood chowder I have ever had and then a steak with potatoes, and a raspberry remoulade with coffee. It was amazing. You could taste the love that went into making it, and it was the kind of meal you want to eat slowly because your tastebuds just need time to recognize what's going on. It only seemed fitting for Alison Krauss to be playing over the sound system.
We went to a pub called Matt Malloy's afterward (owned by the Matt Malloy from the Chieftains). Great comapny, great music, great craic.
As we walked back to the hostel, the stars came out to put us to sleep. And I just breathed as deeply as I could.
We woke up the next morning and checked out of the hostel. We quickly swallowed some OJ and coffee and departed for Croagh Patrick via taxi. Because we had never been to the west coast of Ireland, the taxi driver took us on the scenic route with no extra charge. We arrived at the mountain and I purchased two walking sticks for 4 euros, which proved to be the single greatest investment I've ever made. We stashed the rest of our stuff in a locker at the Visitor Centre at the base of the mountain and began the climb.
We were greeted by Mr. Saint Patrick himself. That's the peak behind him:
As you can see from the pictures, we couldn't have picked a better day to climb. I thank Aunt Mary for that. Crystal blue skies and a mild temperature.
The first leg of the mountain shocked my senses, and my muscles were going to get pissed off pretty quickly. This may surprise some of you, but I'm not a mountain climber. But if climbing this mountain wasn't a metaphor for life, then I don't know what is. Between the feelings of doubt, anger, fatigue and victory, I knew I had to keep climbing.
I climbed for Aunt Mary. I climbed because she wanted a piece of herself there.
I climbed because she couldn't.
Courtney stayed a good 5-15 feet ahead of me in the most reassuring of ways. It gave me a goal to the next spot. If I didn't have to catch up to her, I don't know if I would've kept going. We hadn't slept enough, we hadn't eaten anything, and we were climbing at a 60 degree angle most of the way...
About 70% of the way up, we got to the "First Station." There was a gorgeous view, and I thought it would be appropriate to bury some of her hair here, and then the rest of it at the peak.
The 1st Station is that large pile of rock with a plaque in it, and that's me after hiding her hair in the pile:
And here's her view from the First Station:
During the last 25% of the climb, my body and lungs had had enough. I wanted to cry and lay down and stop. A couple times I looked at the sky and yelled to Aunt Mary "Are you kidding me?! You couldn't have picked a smaller mountain?!"
But I didn't stop climbing. I was too close, and even though I couldn't see the peak from where I was at that point, I just kept repeating in my head '5 more minutes, 5 more minutes, 5 more minutes...'
We finally made it to the peak after a fairly treacherous climb:
It was pretty cold at the top, and Courtney and I refueled on some chocolate, fruit and nuts. We drank some water and I found where I wanted to spread the little amount of ashed I had of Aunt Mary's and bury the rest of her hair. There was a pile of rocks positioned behind St. Patrick's bed and the Second Station. It seemed this pile was the highest point on the peak, and that's where I thought she should be. The two pictures below have the pile of rocks from 2 angles. In the 2nd picture, it's the pile in the background and not the foreground.
And I wept. For so many reasons.
This is her view from her Pile on the peak. At one point there was a rainbow.
We started the descent after a while. Going up was hard? You have no idea what coming down was like. Our feet were tired at that point, our legs ached, and the footing of the mountain was more unstable on the way down. I slid at one point in a lunge position and bruised my leg and my pride a little bit. We finally reached a flatter area in the middle and continued down. Our bodies were running on chocolate and adrenaline at this point. One step at a time we made it down. It was sunny, crsip, and near perfect for a late-October day. Here's the shadow of the mountain on our way down:
When we finally reached the bottom, we were greeted with a locked door at the closed Visitor Centre. This was unfortunate since the rest of our clothes, wine, and supplies were locked in there. After a fruitless attempt at finding someone that could let us in, we walked into a packed pub that didn't take credit card. In the shuffle of frustration and exhaustion, we ended up sitting next to three strangers named Julian, Lynn, and Teddy. As Courtney and I got up to leave to figure out what to do, I mentioned our plight to our three stranger-friends. They immediately offered to help, and the five of us piled into the pick-up truck with their dog Denzel so that we could find an ATM to take out cash for dinner and lodging.
Turns out that the town that is at the base of the mountain doesn't have an ATM and no one takes credit/debit cards. So Teddy, Lynn, and Julian took us back to Westport. After making sure that we were okay and had our bearings, they took off and Courtney and I went into the first tavern we saw, bought some food, booked a room at the B&B upstairs, and showered.
We had to wake up the next morning, take a cab BACK to Croagh Patrick to retrieve our stuff from the locker, and then we got on a train back to Dublin. Over our 3.5 hour trip, Courtney and I split a bottle and a half of wine and had a great trip back. I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to be in this country and for the ability to climb a Mountain. I plan to visit Croagh Patrick and Aunt Mary in the Spring sometime around St. Patrick's Day. I'll need to bring a little Carolan's Irish Cream with small chocolate cups to share with people at the peak.
It just wouldn't feel right if I didn't....
Me and Courtney:
