Woke up today and headed down for breakfast. A little slower moving as we all try to time
adjust, but made out by 10am for our hike to Croagh Patrick (“Crow” Patrick, not “Cro-Ag”
Patrick as Triecia is fond of calling it).
This hike was Triecia’s pick for the trip as it is a sacred mountain
with spiritual origins and she is much more spiritual than, say, me. To me, it was just a big freaking mountain
that needed to be conquered. The
mountain is nicknamed “The Holy Mountain” as people make a pilgrimage to the top
to honor St. Patrick and we understood there to be a church at the top where
St. Patrick fasted for 40 days in 441 AD (thank you Wikipedia).
As we researched this little day hike, descriptive words
like “Strenuous” “Weather subject to change” “Dangerous” “Loose Rocks” “bring a
walking stick” popped up regularly. No
worries, we are relatively fit for upper 40’s, early 50-year olds! We arrived at the base of the mountain raring
to go.
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| Still Happy! |
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| Having fun with my walking stick... |
In the distance, we saw two peaks
– a big one, and then one that was way off in the distance that was at least twice the height of the big one. We
weren’t sure which one we were actually planning to summit (knowing full well
that it was obviously going to be the monster peak).
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| Guess which peak we have to climb. |
We got one step out of the parking lot, which I would say
was probably the last flat surface we encountered. It was straight uphill immediately. We read that the hike should take about 3.5
hours (ha). The first part of the hike
was walking up a lightly flowing stream over uneven rocks and boulders. It was tough, but doable – maybe ½ mile of
this.
The next section of the hike was
probably about a 20-degree incline – again, lots of loose rocks and uneven surfaces
– another mile. We were all still
smiling at this point, stopping to rest and enjoy the view at regular intervals.
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| Still Smiling |
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| Still the "easy" part |
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| Path to the saddle |
Muscles were burning, calves were sore, but
on we went toward the first peak where we stopped to rest and fuel up with some
PB&Js. The wind was whipping like
crazy so we hunkered down behind a big pile of rocks (aka cairn).
It was from this halfway point that we got our first really
good view of the massive peak and the trail that we were supposed to follow. We
could see people in colored jackets dotting the trail – how they were not all
rolling down the mountain was a mystery to me as this was the steepest climb I’ve
ever seen. There was a lot of profanity over
the course of this rest period ending with “okay, let’s conquer this b*tch”.
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| Me, not happy with what is to come. Dressed for arctic winter. |
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| Bobby - still far enough down to be excited about the peak where the weather was warmer |
We had a nice lull as we left the saddle and traversed
the relatively flat ridge to get to the big peak. The wind was strong enough to nearly knock us
off our feet and almost did a few times.
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| The ridge - windy, but thankfully flat |
About halfway across the ridge, we came across “rustic facilities”,
which of course Triecia & I had to take advantage of. In the middle of nowhere, toilets and sinks
in what felt like an old dungeon with sheep grazing nearby. But when you gotta go…
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| Note blue sheep in background |
We made our way to the base of the final leg of the climb –
it was straight uphill on terrain that was made up of wet gravel and rocks the
size of your fist or bigger – all loose.
It was insane. I understand why
this is considered a holy mountain because I can assure you the words “holy
mother of god why are we doing this” “holy @#($*& this is a nightmare”,
and a few other choice words left my lips more than a few times. To give you an idea on what we were climbing, I had guesstimated that we
were climbing at a 45 degree incline and since I’m accused of having a tendency
to exaggerate, I double-checked later and found that at points, the incline was
a 55 degree grade. Think about it – more
than half of a 90-degree angle on loose rocks.
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| Loose Rocks |
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| 55 degree incline |
I was completely focused on not breaking an ankle, Damon was
completely focused on me not breaking an ankle, and while we weren’t always
close to Triecia and Bobby during the hike, we did see Bobby literally pushing
Triecia by her butt up the mountain. We
stopped every 20-30’ to try to see how much further but it just never
ended. Every time we passed people going
down every one of them said “you are almost there! Just 10 more minutes!” If I had a nickel for every time we went ten
more minutes… finally, after more than 2 hours of climbing, we saw the summit. The hike was strenuous and at times very
windy and at times very hot – we went from hats, mittens and down to t-shirts
and sunglasses multiple times.
As you approach the summit, slowly a big white building
comes into view. You can imagine the
sounds of heaven (aaahhh aaahhh ahhhh) as the building comes into view and you
know you’ve made it.
The summit is impressive
with a full-blown church at the top, plus a lot of room to walk around and
enjoy 360-degree views. We could barely
haul our butts to the summit, not sure how people got an entire church up
there.
We were very lucky that we had good
weather and a relatively clear day, so we spent about 30 minutes enjoying the view,
refueling, and trying to decide if it was a better idea to walk back the way we
came, or to just die up there.
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| Approaching the summit |
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| The church |
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| We made it! |
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| Proof of summit |
Triecia
and I dueled it out highlander style (yes, I am aware that was Scotland) and we
opted to head back down. I think I know
why St. Patrick spent 40 days at the summit, he just didn’t want to walk back down
the mountain.
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| There can be only one |
The descent was not as physically grueling as the ascent,
but it required tremendous concentration with foot placement to make sure you
were not going to slip on the rocks or break an ankle. Both Triecia and I had walking
poles, which we agreed were worth far more than the 4 Euro we paid to rent
them. On the way down, we had the
distinct pleasure of telling everyone it was “just 10 more minutes” to the
top. It was cruel, but also seemed to be
a right of passage. When we were about ¾
of the way down, we passed two hikers on their way up. One guy was crawling on his hands and knees,
swearing the entire way while his friend was laughing and telling him not to
swear in front of the ladies. Having
gone through the full cycle of profanities on our way up, we told him it was
cool.
A few times I looked back up at Triecia and Bobby making
their way down… Triecia was somehow using Bobby as a second walking stick. While we didn’t see it, she took a small
tumble on the descent – nerve wracking.
My near calamity came later.
To say that our calves and knees were burning is an understatement. By the time we got to the ridge to get to the
“easy” part of the hike, we were exhausted, but glad that the worst was behind
us. We made our way down the final mile
or so kind of stumbling along. At one
point, I was climbing over a rock and my boot caught on the lip of the rock and
I tripped badly. Somehow, I fell/ran downhill
toward Damon who was waiting to catch me while I heard gasps from all three of
them - and in the three strides it took me to get to Damon, I somehow managed
to regain my balance. I call that years
of tripping practice.
We finally got to the bottom, had hot chocolate, and headed
to Galway. But not before we bumped into
the guy who left his swearing buddy somewhere on the mountain while he ran down
a different part of the mountain – grassy – as evidenced by his dirty knees and
grass stained clothes – he had wiped out a few times. In his Irish accent, he said he left the
bloke somewhere on the mountain and was cracking up every time he thought he
could see the guy’s blue jacket saying “aye, he’s gonna kill me if he makes it
down”. The guy made it as we were
getting into our car.
Our drive to Galway was about an hour and a half. Damon is getting better at driving – only hit
the curb once today. We left the bigger
roads for secondary roads which get narrower.
Why the Irish think it is a good idea to have narrow lanes with stone
walls or thick shrubs right up against the side of the road is beyond me. One very cool thing we saw during the drive
was a plethora of stone walls. I’ve
never seen anything like this. All of
the houses/yards/farms/grazing pastures are separated not by fences, but by
stone walls – most look like they are hundreds of years old. It was so “Irish” that I said I needed a
picture for the blog. What took place
over the next 30 minutes or so was pure hilarity.
Damon is the driver.
Triecia is the front seat passenger and navigator. Bobby and I are relegated to the back
seat. Having no official transportation
jobs, it was on Bobby & me to get the perfect pastoral picture – preferably
with a perfectly preserved stone wall with fluffy white sheep in the
background. Not so easy when you are
driving 100 kpm and your driver will not slow down – even for a blog picture.
The conversation is the back seat sounded like this:
Donna (yelling) – I got wall I got wall but no sheep. I see sheep.
Do you have sheep? What about a
wall.
Bobby – I got wall but I got cows, no sheep. Wait, I think I see sheep.
Donna – DAMON SLOW DOWN WE NEED A PICTURE FOR THE BLOG. Sheep!
I see sheep! Is there a
wall? Dammit, my picture is blurry. I see sheep on your side – roll down your
window.
Bobby – I got a car and a cow but no sheep and no wall.
Triecia (oblivious to what is going on in the back) - Hey - there is a cow mounting another cow!
You get it. Needless
to say, the fruits of our labors are less than stellar.
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| Sheep too far and wall |
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| Sheep and Wall! |
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| My best effort |
During the drive, we also found an acceptable hotel in
Galway – we learned to walk in and not reserve on-line to get a better rate, so
Triecia and I hobbled in and negotiated two sweet rooms, breakfast, and parking
for a great price. We asked for
suggestions for dinner and live music and thank the lord they recommended a
place roughly a 30 second walk out our front door across the street. Since we were all hobbled, closeness trumped
everything else.
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| Great Place! |
We got very lucky and scored a table in front of the band,
the food was amazing, and we had a super excited local telling us this was the
best Irish band ever as he waved his arms to the music and danced, he said a
lot more, but we couldn’t understand 95% of it.
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