Writing about mountains is ripe for writing clichés and big statements about overcoming hurdles and physically accomplishing a goal. So if you hate that kind of corny thing then stop reading now, because in Ireland I hiked up a mountain and that’s exactly how I’m going to write about it. I know my weaknesses. I’m not above a mountain metaphor, although I was above a few things when I was on the top of Croagh Patrick. *waiting for laugh*
And now time for some facts: Croagh Patrick is a 2,507 ft. tall mountain and the name is translated to “Patrick’s (as in St. Patrick) Stack”. I can only assume it’s called that due to the fact that most of the hike is made up of loose rocks stacked on top of each other, and “St. Patrick’s Easy Peasy Stroll up a Soft Grassy Hill” would just be a mouthful, in addition to a lie.
So, in Ireland, I climbed a mountain. And I mean climbed, like with hands and knees involved, instead of just hiked, but that’s mostly because half the time I had to keep myself from falling back down. But I did it, and considering the bowl of geography that I’m accustomed to, I’m pretty proud of myself.
The walk started off easy, if anything it was just long, but that was before the elevation kicked in. This gave my little hiking crew time to pace ourselves and realize that we were going to be a lot slower than everyone else. I didn’t mind though. The highest thing I’d ever hiked at home was the levee blocking the river, and that only takes about 20 steps to do. I was excited to have such a definitive point of reference to be able to say I had done. Such a bucket list kind of thing to check off, that I didn’t care how long it was going to take or how exhausted I’d be afterwards. I was going to get to say I’d climbed a mountain.
During our journey, a friend made a nice point that I think about often, about how clearly laid out your goals are when you’re hiking. You can see right in front of you how far you’ve got to go, and you can look behind you to see how far you’ve come. You get to make a decision with every step while you’re walking. You can feel your own exhaustion and you can either stop, turn around and just look at all you’ve accomplished, or, if you’re so inclined, you can muster up the strength to make it to the top. The view might be beautiful where you are, and you might feel proud at what you’ve done, and if you’re happy then that’s great. But maybe, if you saw what you’re looking at from just 20 feet higher, it might look even better. The decision is all yours.
If I’m being honest, with every few feet, I loved the view. And I know I’m the kind of person to get comfortable where I’m at, and apparently this applies to mountain climbing too. Occasionally we would break and I would look out on the postcard perfect view, my legs wobbly and my lungs tight. When the views are as beautiful as they are in Ireland, it’s hard to imagine that struggling for 20 more feet would make it look any prettier, and it would be easy to just sit here and relax. But that’s kind of the whole point I think.
A top of the mountain selfie, because why not if you’re there
Sometimes times are exhausting, and sometimes you feel like you’ll never make it to the top of anything, much less the tallest mountain you’ve ever seen. And there’s something to be said for being happy where you are, but there’s also something about being literally on top of the world that makes all the struggle worth it.
Come on, I had to link to this song
Paige Rita 