Gavin negotiated the huge stack of swaying bales around a hairpin corner. The narrow road straightened and he glanced up at the pyramid-shaped mountain.
''They say if you climb it three times you're sure to get straight into heaven," he said. That was enough to convince me.
Celtic, Druid, and other spiritual pilgrims had been climbing Croagh Patrick for thousands of years, long before St. Patrick spent 40 days and nights fasting and praying on its windswept summit in the fifth century.
I chose to make the two-hour climb up ''The Reek," as Croagh Patrick is known to the Irish, in November when the weatherman had promised the best that can be expected on most days in the west of Ireland
Enormous cloud shadows, then swaths of brilliant sunlight, chased each other over the green countryside. The wind was gusting at the base, near Campbell's Pub. There was only one other car at the bottom.
At other times of the year, Croagh Patrick has more in common with Fenway Park than with a hermit's solitude. On the last Friday of July (Garland Friday), the last Sunday in July (Lughnasa or Garland Sunday), and on Aug. 15 (the Feast of the Assumption), thousands of pilgrims climb the mountain at night. The three-mile-long snake of ascending lights on a moonless night is said to be a sight to remember.
The trail ascended gradually, with the surrounding countryside spreading out below me. I could see the top of Croagh Patrick off to my right, capped in clouds.
A statue of St. Patrick soon appeared like an apparition, bathed in bright sunlight. The sculpted stone glowed white and nearly hurt my eyes.
Two walkers on their way down passed me in a great display of energy.
''Fine fresh day," said one.
'' 'Tis," I said, feigning authenticity.
The well-worn trail rose up, etched into the wall of a valley, and after an hour it flattened and turned right toward the final steep ascent. This next stretch was welcomingly level, with Croagh Patrick exposed up ahead, bald and bathed in sunlight.
