In a Word . . . Reek

"It was dark and cold, with a swirling mist, on the summit of Croagh Patrick early yesterday morning. At 2.30am the few pilgrims there crouched before the oratory, away from a cutting wind."

So began my report in this newspaper 20 years ago, on Monday, July 28th, 1997. “There was just one stall at the top, where a woman was selling cans of soft drinks at £1.50 each, by torchlight. A donkey, used for bringing up items, interrupted prayers with regular braying.” The madness of it.

“Occasionally the mist lifted, letting the moonlight through. To the east the sky was brightening, but it darkened again as the mist hid everything once more. It was pitch dark on the way up. Climbers were far apart, some with torches, nearly all with heavy sticks which were being sold at the bottom for 50p each. A few had been in Campbell’s pub before gardaí cleared it at midnight.”

I had been in Campbell’s myself for two quick pints before heading up the dark mountain. A colleague from another paper was with me and we had decided to climb Croagh Patrick in the traditional manner, at night. He soon had enough and turned back. I continued on, alone. Madness.

Stories to soothe a bitter sea

---

Star Wars: The Last Jedi new video – what we learned

---

The best films from this year’s Galway Film Fleadh

---

On the way from Westport a man explained how the numbers were down compared with the night climbs of old. "The rock and rollers" ended that, he said, blaming drink and the younger generation. "Too many serious injuries, too great a risk," he said. So the night climbs ended in 1974.

I still wanted to do it at night, however. It meant a different angle for the report and I had done so twice at night as a child. I hoped to see again one of the great memories from then – Clew Bay at dawn stretching away in its blue beauty, dotted with the claimed 365 islands.

Another gift of night climbing is you can’t see too far ahead – always useful when faced with a major task. But the mist, the mist! I swore “never again”. But I did it once more. In daylight, with a gang. In memory of our dead friend.

Be careful up there, all you who intend climbing tomorrow.

Reek, meaning "rick" or "stack" – as in hay/turf stack. Croagh Patrick/ Cruach Phádraig – "the mountain-stack of Pádraig". inaword@irishtimes.com