Hike of death.

*Insert Jaws theme song here*

Sunday, 8/7/11, Galway to Westport

I'm off to the right, lying on the rocks and gasping for air

Today we had another GREAT idea... "while we're driving around the country, let's hike up a mountain!" Rick Steves, our BFF, had written about the annual pilgrimage that occurs each spring to the top of Croagh Patrick. Thousands of people will hike to the top, many barefoot, to attend mass at the small chapel on the summit. According to local legend, Croagh Patrick is the site where St. Patrick cast all the snakes out of Ireland. Anyway, it sounded like fun! Looking back at the day, "fun" is probably not the word I'd use to describe our Croagh Patrick experience.  We left Galway and drove straight to the mountain in County Mayo. As we were approaching, Croagh Patrick seemed to get taller and steeper with every mile. Needless to say, by the time we got to the parking lot, we were both a bit nervous and wondering what the heck we were getting ourselves into... Our friends Pat and Mary (from the pub in Galway) had hiked it a couple weeks ago and both said it was about a 2-2.5 hour ascension that "was really hard but fun." Whatever that means.  So we parked, strapped on our packs (I was wearing my black leather fanny pack for good luck), and started towards the trailhead, pumped and ready to go! We left Rooster at 11:20am and took our first rest break at 11:30am.  Hardcore... The trail wasn't terribly steep, but was rocky and we were going WAY too fast (that was our excuse). We finally figured out a system of hike and rest for the "easy" portion of the climb. I remember standing just below the ridge (about halfway up) and foolishly hoping that the top of the mountain was just over the top... Even though I could see the trail continuing WAY up the side of the mountain and into the clouds. Eventually, Kat and I reached the ridge where we sat and snacked, took pictures, and sucked wind for a while.  Around that time the rain started to fall... just in time for the last part of the climb (which was reported to be the "tough part"). At times during the last 300 yards, we had to crawl on our hands and feet to keep moving forwards. I swear the slope of the mountain had to be about 45 degrees (or it felt like it) and covered with loose rocks that would wobble and slide if you didn't step just right - which is really easy when you can barely lift one foot past the other. We stopped laughing and talking at this point...occasionally one of us would exclaim something like, "Where's that dang church?!" and "Please tell me we're almost there!" By the end, we and all our new friends - fellow climbers- would walk about 20 feet then stop and breathe, climb 20 ft and stop, etc... It was a slow and painful process:)  After an hour and 45 minutes of climbing (beat that, Rick! He said we would need 3 hours to get to the top...), we FINALLY reached the top! Praise Jesus!

I. Can't. Breathe.

Atop the summit, the temperatures dropped significantly - so much so that I could see my breath. We had been rained on for the last 30-45 minutes of our climb, but the clouds lifted and we even saw some sunshine while at the top.  We took some videos and pictures, rested for about 15 minutes, then started the treacherous descent. Going down wasn't easy (it was slick and steep and littered with resting hikers who were still climbing), but it was MUCH better than going up! Kat started up a conversation with an Irishman named Mark, and we ended up walking and talking with him the entire way down. He was great! He told us about Cromwell burning Ireland, Grace O'Malley (a pirate queen), the potato famine, his family's embarrassing history, and the best Westport pubs to visit. By the time we reached Rooster, we were wet, chilled, exhausted, and walking on wobbly legs... what a great morning!

Go USA!

Bacon and cabbage... this plate was licked clean 10 min later.

We had not yet booked accomodations in Westport, so we walked up and down the streets until we stumbled upon a hostel that had only 2 beds left for the night. Meant to be! We took much-needed showers then wandered around the town. They had a music festival going on, so there was much to see! We saw Irish dancing, puppets, poetry recitations, Galway sheep, and a bald eagle... Eventually the hunger got to us, and we had to find a place to eat. Kat had been itching to try bacon and cabbage ever since our new friends in Galway had mentioned it, so we found a seat at the Clock Tavern where she finally got to try the meal, and I had a lovely bowl of Irish stew. It was our first real meal of the day, so we inhaled every bite.  After leaving that place, we stopped at a little hotel pub where they had advertised live music. Once the music started, I looked around and noticed the odd demographics of the crowd. Two folks were in wheelchairs, old Johnny came in dragging his oxygen container with him, and Mary, his lady friend, was creeping along behind him with her energy drink in hand... not a crazy crowd. We met 2 lovely older couples who spoke English to us but Gaelic to each other. Kat and I did a lot of nodding and smiling like we understood:) We then stopped by one other pub to listen to another band, and were back at the hostel by 11pm... so tired...