An unholy sinner and a Protestant, Graham Little climbs Ireland’s holy mountain in sear ch of Catholic repentance
have visited more places of Catholic pilgrimage than any Protestant I know. I’ve carried a candle in Lourdes, listened to the Pope in St Peter’s Square, visited the place of Christ’s birth in Bethlehem and his crucifixion in Jerusalem and, in one trip to the west of Ireland last month, I took in two shrines for the price of one.
Ireland West Airport Knock owes its existence to the appearance in 1879 of a holy triumvirate – consisting of the Virgin Mary, St Joseph and St John the Baptist – to 15 startled local people. The vision appeared by Knock Parish Church one rainy August evening and stayed for a couple of hours. The economic benefit to the area has stayed for a couple of centuries.
Even by the blessed standards of the Land of Saints and Scholars, the area between Galway and Sligo is holy indeed. One and a half million people visit the shrine at Knock every year and less than 65km away, the imposing conical form of Croagh Patrick, Ireland’s holy mountain, challenges around 25,000 pilgrims to climb it on the last Sunday of July every year.
Although it has been a site of pilgrimage since pre-Christian times, it was Ireland’s patron saint who really put the mountain on the map and modestly gave it his name.
In the mid-fifth century, Patrick decided to emulate Jesus Christ, who famously fasted in the desert for 40 days and nights. Deserts are in short supply in Ireland, so Patrick opted for another place of hardship – the exposed top of a mountain almost 800m above sea level.
The days could have been dull, but he put in the time building a church on the summit and having a deadly struggle with an agent of Satan who cunningly transformed himself into a flock of dark birds and then into a bed of snakes. Fed up with this posturing, Patrick threw a silver bell at the reptiles and they were destroyed, never to return to the Emerald Isle again.
Which is just as well, because many of the pilgrims who now climb Croagh Patrick to honour his memory do so in their bare feet.
Climbing the mountain is held in Irish Christian tradition to be an act of penance for wrong-doing, and climbing without shoes is the ultimate suffering and proof of utter repentance.
Never having done anything wrong in my life, I opted for the comfort of a solid pair of Gore-Tex walking boots for the two-hour ascent, accompanied by a small group of sinful friends. Climb in summer, particularly around the end of July, and you will be beset on all sides by evangelists. Climb in winter and you could have this magnificent mountain to yourself.
We were five Protestants and one Catholic, and this being modern Ireland, democracy prevailed and the Catholic was forced by the Protestants to observe all the religious traditions imposed during the climb: seven laps of each Station of the Cross, repeating seven Hail Marys, seven Our Fathers and one creed per lap. After the first station the Protestants grew weary of the entertainment and took off up the mountain without religious pause.
It’s an exhausting climb. Over the last hundred metres or so the slope becomes almost vertical, and the rocks and scree slide out from underfoot, acting like a treadmill, increasing the distance to be climbed at the worst possible moment. How on earth delicate and ancient nuns ascend every year in their bare feet is beyond me.
Thick, heavy cloud dropped on top of the mountain just before we reached the summit. We stumbled almost blindly around for a while; resting on the cairn of stones known as Patrick’s bed and exploring the small church before the damp and the disappointing lack of the anticipated fabulous views over Clew Bay drove us away.
As we were coming down, my Catholic friend was going up. We told him we’d meet him in the visitor’s centre at the bottom.
We’d been drinking tea for an hour and a half in the café before he strolled in. The cloud had lifted as he got near the summit and the splendour of the bay below opened up. Maybe there’s something in this pilgrim thing after all…
Staying put
Westport (above) is 10km from “the Reek”, as Croagh Patrick is known locally, and it makes a dramatic backdrop to this pretty town. It’s an official Heritage Town and won Ireland’s Tidiest Town title in 2001, 2006 and 2008. If you’re looking to stay, there’s a large range of accommodation and restaurants, and buses and trains connect Westport with Dublin and Galway. www.mayo-ireland.ie; www.discoverireland.ie/west
Going up
Climbing Croagh Patrick takes about two hours (opening hours are limited in winter, so check first). Weather conditions can change rapidly: always bring appropriate clothing, including sturdy footwear (unless you are a very penitent pilgrim). A visitors’ centre at the bottom of the mountain has a restaurant, craft shop, showers and lockers – and sells walking sticks. They’ll organise guided tours and packed lunches for you here, too. www.croagh-patrick.com
Walking on
The Croagh Patrick Heritage Trail Festival is a three-day, 61km, guided walk from Balla to the base of Croagh Patrick (but doesn’t go up), and takes place 19-21 March 2010. www.croaghpatrickheritagetrail.com
GETTING THERE
Let us praise bmibaby for flights to Ireland West Knock from Birmingham and Manchester from just £18.99 one-way, incl taxes. For more information log on to www.bmibaby.com
