.....schtiks for the reek......

SCHTIKS FOR THE REEK.......:

a cara.....the past.......the beautiful past striped with sunshine...grey with mist...childish....blooming with hidden joy...bruised with sweet sorrow.....ohh!....if only i could resurrect one hour of thatprecious time.....just one alone.....ahhh!...but which one....glancing at my calender that hangs by my computer....not quite the calender of long ago....langans....i notice july is slipping into the twilight ...for another year....soon its history will hold the extreme heat in ontario....and the killings...in colorado...and the barbeque party shootings of toronto.....it will catalogue the extreme violence of 2012.....but as i sit my mind drifts back to softer times........far beyond finnians rainbow....to the terrible beauty of mayo....here in this most western county ....the shores whipped and carved by the punishing atlantic....the inland sprinkled in the continual mists the have crafted the multi patterned ....many shades of green landscape....the scorce ...the grasses...the whin permeate the air in intoxicating scents and perfumes....the mountains like great skyline invaders....blend with the rain ...the sun and wind ...like chameleons change colour in a fickle display of shadowed awesomeness.....and in the west....embraced by the murrisk mountains is ...the reek....and this is the star of my opera......it stands....like a great cone .....with its finger like top...which of course the church.....so as i look at the date i know this saturday...the great pilgrimmage to the reek will be in full swing.....pilgrims from all parts of the world ....and points beyond....will dare the ruggedness....and ascent.....locals will congregate at the foot of the holy mountain selling schtiks for the reek....peddlers will sell their religious medals and other stuff....the pub at the bottom of the reek will be dispensing in fluid quantities....guinness and other nourishments for the many seeking a little sustenance for the climb to the top.....i know this mountain well.....i have inked her well in my childhood....as she stood in her magnificence from my daily vantage viewing on mchale road....ive seen ....her magnificent dazzling blueness....her shadowed greyness....her fainting silhoutte from wet and misty days....and i have first hand knowledge of her ruggedness from my many climbs to the top....i made my first ascent when quite young....but i have some memorableclimbs.....one year 1954 i believe i was to make the climb with a very important lady in my life mary mcdonagh...we were both excited about our pilgrimmage and adventure...but a few days before that last saturday in july....mary was injured whilst playing camogie by the bacon factory...she was felled by a slash from the hurley of her great and good friend ...teresa higgins...and mary wound up in the county hospital.....and so her brother paddy and i paired up for an onslaught of the mountain.....early in the saturday afternoon....we had a few pints in smiler murphys.....then it was down to tom cullens for a feed of crubeens....we ate the meat ...sucked the bones...and licked the grease form our mouths and hands in epicurian delight....then we headed for the wesport road ...and wesport......in wesport we had a little more liffey juice...and then got the bus to murrisk......the night was grey....ugly and wrapped in drizzlle and mist.....we speckulated a tanner each on a schtik ...and offf we set.....wet....but full of excitement and enthusiasm.....we were not there for any major penance...or redemption....it was what we did on the last saturday night of july....oh we got into the ritual of rosary recital blending in with the many that engulfed our presencenot too far into the climb ...we met himself...albeit ....a huge statue......st.patrick....holding the shamrock.....we circled the monument following the more sincere devout pilgrims....until we were once again on the climb....the streams that flow down the side....broke the monotony of prayer....as the waters raced down in musical symphony....the water rushed ...danced and jumped over rock and bush....adding a third dimension.....the mist and rain seemed to soak in ...but went unheeded.....faint down below ....were the lights of more climbers and further down lights of traffic.....and like a candle in the window ...the beam of light from the lighthouse...broke the eeriness and greyness of the night....another station ...and another round of repaeated rosary....and again upwards...and onwards....some early pilgrims making their way down passed us...and quipped....youre almost there...as they skid and slipped on slate and stone.....myself and paddy stopped for a mug of tea....a big cream colored caragoline mug with blue stripes....with tea stronger than guinness....again we challenged the mount...and headed into the incline of slate and stone...slipping and sliding ...and swearing....the old crubeens were doing a dance in our stomachs...as we headed up.....stalls ...tents and stone huts....broke the cruelness of the night......soon we heard more profound prayer ....and clumps of people......the top was in sight....and sa we approached it seemed like the church was going to slip off the far side.....people congregated for mass and prayer....the night....was shrinking....and the dark clouds...began speeding bye...as the reddish glow of dawn began to rise....the sun could be seen breaking the horrizon in the east...in a golden haze.....rising from the bowels of the east....the golden rays began to dance and shimmer on the ocean bay of clew....sparkling and dancing like stars the shimmer of the sun made the sea below and its many islands an artists easel.....clouds flew past over head as the morming made its grand entrance....the church now was clearly visible in its white mantle of concrete.....shadows raced from the mountainside as the rising sun began to change the markings of the reek.....on the summit pilgrims seemed to celebrate in their successful climb...and seemed that redemption was theirs.....paddy and i ....were dazzled by the splendid view....a miracle of beauty....carved not by man ...but designed in the hand of god....we began our descent ....hoping to reach bottom soon to celebrate our quest....with a few of another miracle....guinness....reach bottom we did....and grasped a few of that black liquid gold.....it seemed to taste even better.....as we prepared for our return to castlebar....we werent worried about how we might get home......pilgrims were always blessed with the generosity of strangers...ive climbed the reek many times since that climb with my brother in law paddy....and each ascent took on a new magnificence and inspiration.......and so as the saturday night july 28th approaches i will be thinking of the many that will make their way to mayo...and croagh patrick.....some for repentance...and redemption ....some others to say ....they climbed the reek....others for a night of drink and fun....but all will be frozen in amzement as they capture the view from the reeks 2510 feet .....somehow everyone comes away....inspired ....and grateful they experienced the table st patrick banished the snakes from.....they will stand renewed ....

...what memory has in common with art.....is the knack for selection...the taste for detail....more than anything ...memory resembles a library....in alphabetical disorder.............ah ! a mist of memory broods and floats ...the border waters flow.....the air is full of ballad notes ....borne out of long ago....

......tog go