a cara.....recently my attention was alerted ....and re-triggered to the grand mountain of murrisk....croagh patrick...or as we always called it ...the reek......the reek was always ever present in my childhood.....growing up on mchale road in number 10...i had a daily view....way back in to those days of so long ago it always looked magical....mystical....and connical.....it stood blue on clear days with a finger like spire.....on non sunny days it looked grey and dark....and at other times it seemed it dropped behind the dark sullen skies of west mayo.....as a boy i was fascinated by it....curious ...but captivated by the story of st. patrick driving the snakes from ireland.....i looked across the many fields by murrays shop and gazed at this cone shaped mountain.....often when i wandered to langstons hill i looked at it in complete amazement....i was'nt even aware of the church on top....although the finger spire was explained as the church.....so i was thrilled when my dad told me i could go with him to a fair in louisbourgh......on the day of this trip i was up like a lark....we headed off very early in his ford van......the journey to day would be nothing special ....but way back in 1945 it was exciting.....we reversed the van down the back road and fixed our course at joe mcgings.....joe's monumental works with its white wrought iron fence ajoined clarkes field but seperated by a stone wall....opposite was the adderlys and the flynns the insurance agent lived next door.......and his austin 7 was parked....the farrells lived at the end.....pop duffys was not there then....just an empty lot....with a favourite tree in the centre.....as the van climbed luddens hill i took in everything.....simms field lay full of buttercups and sweet smelling grass....the wonderful "mushroom" shaped treecaught my glance as we headed towards spencer street....jack barretts garage hugged the corner and his famed harley davidson complete with side car stood parked.....we swung around by the courthouse...and the mall....and as we rounded towards the council yard the siocholonie barracks with its lion pedestals reminded me of sgt. egan....there were no traffic lights then ....just the red bricked post office.....as we headed up mountain view past dr. mattie morans.....i noticed the library....as we approached the county hospital.....i noticed a defined smell of antiseptic and a sterile aroma as we passed the big green gates....i noticed patsy omalley cycling up the hospital entrance.....and nurses in blue smocks and veils moving from the nurses residence.....the doyles and the griffins lived right across from there...who would ever have thought then that the mammoth travellers friend and royal theatre would one day take over that slot.....just up ahead was the asylum.....its eerie dome a reminder of "beware "....its big shut green gates were tightly closed and ms loftus manned the gate house.....soon we were heading into the country....ballymacragh.....in those days my friends the tonra family ...the morans were some of the land owners....there thatched houses had spiralling smoke drifting towards the blue sky....the ball alley....almost echoed sounds of bouncing balls....where many a tournament was played....we soon approached the cross to derrywash...and rounded the corner towards islandaedy.....here in those days was a series of double bends....narrow and sharp...and i can still see their black and ambermarkers.....the road in those days ws very narrow.....and walled in .....the monument to the fallen men of islandaedy was quite visible and a reminder of our bloody history....now we approached johnny fitzgeralds.....johnny had a little shop ...and in those days he was also the main man in danny mcellins in castlebar....johnny was noted for his starched white collars....and was a friendly gentleman.....now the train tracks to wesport were visible as we headed towards ...joyces half way house ...and the gaiety.....in the farms that lay to the left and right the odd cow grazed on dew soaked grass and rush.....the top of sheehaune hill was visible but in those days you had to negotiate two very dangerous double "s" bends....the road was enclosed in high wild bush walls......and cars had to gear down to make it to the top......but on reaching the top i will never forget my first ever view of clew bay......on reflection it was almost like a mastered painting....wesport lay on the bottom.....now my view of the mountain was so much nearer...and sadly my first image was so disappointing.....that amgnificent connical shape and vision i had from mchale road was now changing ....it looked distorted.....it looked like the top was humped.....we coasted down into wesport....and soon passed the convent that in those days ws a chamber of horrors....we crossed the river and moved into the octagon.....and down towards the quays.....i remember ...seeing seeing pierce gills house as we moved down....around the quays we moved ou towards murrisk......jo bourkes yacht was docked quayside....as we left wesport ....clew bay echoed the sounds of the raging atalntic as waves crashed onto the shores and breakwall.....rugged rough farms sprinkled the landscape....wild with scorce and rush.....stony ....and lush green....my mountain was now looming large....and rugged.....the path was much more visible as it twined around the rock.....it was totally different than my admiring vision....but yet it looked remarkable.....the statue ...or first station was now visible.....and the rushing waters of the stream made musical symphony as it danced over its rick and stone filled base.....my dad stopped the van for a moment so i could grasp a more lasered impression of the reek....although its sahpe had become in my distorted ...the mystique of its ruggedness....inspired me....wantinng that i should conquer its boldness....i neither desired its ascent ...for redemption ......penitance ...or salvation....it triggered my need to experience the test ....we then headed on towards louisbourgh....and the ruggedness of this mountain...the loudness and awesomeness of the clew bay atlantic never diminished over the many years.....i would imagine that despite the great many changes over time.....the spectacular beauty of that rugged piece of irish landscape still holds magic....and the beauty of time may change ....but the magic of time never ends......

....beauty endures for only as long as it can be seen....goodness ...beautiful today...will retain so tomorrow....

....my first ascent to the top ...la eile ....sceil eile.....

....tog go bog e.....