We cast off from the shore in a small boat with two relatives and a sea-loving mutt to visit the island where my maternal grandmother had lived before she emigrated to Chicago. That afternoon, our spirits fully revived by a thimbleful or two of Jameson, slices of homemade cake and attaboys from the relatives for reaching the top, we set out to the first of two islands we would visit during our trip. Minutes later the cold became too much, and we descended, skidding down toward the sun-dappled stretch of the trail visible below. With the realization that the wind was so strong our voices were lost to it, we ran to the fog-shrouded chapel and hunkered down against its leeward side. I pulled my phone from my pocket for a photo, and my stiffening fingers nearly lost it to a powerful gust.
#Clew bay ireland full#
Stepping by her onto the plateau, we felt the full force of the wind. That day, our final steps onto the plateau were witnessed by only one other climber, a woman calmly feeding blueberries to a lone sheep. But I hadn’t said anything about the clouds that often roll over the top of the mountain, or how the top third of the climb becomes more of a crawl as rocks shift underfoot without warning on the narrowing trail. Heading out, I remembered the first time I had hiked Croagh Patrick as a teenager, more than a decade ago: My memory was of my family and me bounding upward under a warming sun.īut on this climb, about halfway up the mountain the crowd began to thin as the temperature dropped and fog dampened the loose shale and rocks.īefore leaving Southern California for our honeymoon, I told my husband I’d like us to climb the Reek together.
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We set off for the summit on a clear morning in June, with light jackets zipped over stomachs filled to bursting by the breakfast cooked to order by the proprietor of Plougastel House, the cozy bed and breakfast where we were staying in Westport. At its summit is a small chapel where masses are celebrated on Reek Sunday, the last Sunday each July, when thousands turn out to walk together to the top. Patrick, the nation’s patron saint and the mountain’s namesake. Visitors at the start of the climb are greeted by a white statue of St. It draws about 100,000 people to the area each year.
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The mountain - referred to locally as the Reek - rises to about 2,500 feet above sea level and is 5 miles outside the seaside village of Westport in County Mayo. They all looked the same from my vantage halfway up Croagh Patrick, the mountain that overlooks the bay, so after a swig of water and a few lungfuls of air, my husband and I continued our trek to the peak. Scanning the green mounds peppering the white-capped sea below while visiting last summer, I tried futilely to distinguish from the other islands the grassy knoll where my grandmother was born. How many islands dot Ireland’s Clew Bay? As many as days of the year, goes the saying.