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to hold on to and nothing to stop you from falling off the side into the Bay below. I was terrified. There wasn't even any place to stop and rest unless you wanted to slide back down from where you came. Soon, our party was split up, with Cathal in front, Charlie behind him, and Jim and I bringing up the rear. At every turn that we thought was the top, the mountain just kept getting higher and higher. My mind went blank and void of all thoughts except not to fall until finally I saw the chapel-the little white chapel at the top. I've never been more thankful to see a religious place of worship before in my life.

As I reached the top, I looked around me and first felt relief and accomplishment. I had done the physically most challenging thing in my life. I had climbed three miles straight up through rocks risking my life and for what? Why had I done this? Well, for one thing I was bored of the town I was staying in. It also sounded romantic.

Those were my reasons at the bottom of the mountain. At the top, I had new reasons.
Self-discovery was one. Getting back in touch with my religion that I had forgotten and put on the back burner of my priorities for years was another. Doing something that would make my grandparents proud of me. I did it for the sheer simplicity of it-just a mountain and God and me, battling it out as I climbed and crawled and prayed my way to the top. And my fellow climbers, who were total strangers, had encouraged and helped me achieve this goal. If it wasn't for Jim, Charlie, and Cathal, I probably would have given up and gone back down after not even climbing half way up.

A mass was being said in the tiny chapel and college-aged men were packed into and
spilling out of it as they listened to the priest encourage them to pray and be thankful for the journey they were on. I listed for a few minutes and before I knew it, the three men were heading back down and I used my common sense, maybe for the first and last time that day, and joined them. I was not looking forward to the second half of this trek and at this time I firmly believed in strength and safety in numbers.

The way down the Reek was not any easier than the way up. It was hard on the feet and legs as I struggled not to lose my footing on the piles of loose rock. I must have slipped at least five times but regained my footing with dignity as others fell around me left and right. I did not have control over my feet until I saw the wonderful sight of St. Patrick again, greeting and congratulating

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