From all corners of County Mayo, Croagh Patrick, the Reek, looms over the landscape. A cone that rises sharply from sea level, with views from the summit stretching for many miles over Clew Bay below: the mountain is as present in sight, as it is in mind. It is formidable. To climb it is proof of one’s unwavering Catholic faith. 'Pilgrims of the Reek' is an observation of Ireland's famous pilgrimage.
Croagh Patrick has been a site of pilgrimage for over 1,500 years, with Catholics honouring St. Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, by climbing the mountain. The saint’s journey is widely recounted and his struggle is felt profoundly. Atop the peak, the saint was said to have been harassed by flocks of demonic birds during a forty-day fast. It is claimed that he dispelled the birds by ringing a bell, before ending his starvation when God delivered unto him the ‘right to judge all the Irish at the Last Judgement’.
The saint’s faith was said to be tested further by snakes that tormented the people of Ireland. A female serpent, known as the ‘Corra’, hounded St. Patrick until he banished her into Lough Na Corra, at the foot of the hill. The craggy form of the mountaintop served as his bed: his survival is remarkable when one contemplates the lack of shelter and changeable weather at 760 metres above sea level.
Photography by Jared Phanco
In Murrisk, a small village at the foot of the Reek, a dry stone wall is collapsed to create an overflow car park in a field. A swathe of volunteers in hi-viz jackets direct cars through the opening whilst collecting €5 from those who pass. People climb out, some dressed for an arduous hill walk, others wearing casual wear, perhaps better suited to the pavements of nearby Westport.
These are the pilgrims.
They begin their walk across the field, beyond the car park and to the first set of rocky stairs, soon arriving at a statue of St. Patrick. It’s a custom of the day to walk around the figure seven times whilst saying seven Our Fathers, seven Hail Marys, and one Creed. At this point, some pilgrims have removed their shoes as they embark on the climb. This act of penance, a ‘punishment inflicted on oneself as an outward expression of repentance for wrongdoing’, leaves some bloodied.
Observing from the car park, the shape of the pilgrims is lost in the descending cloud and heavy, lashing rain.
Photography by Jared Phanco
For some, the pilgrimage begins over 30 kilometres away at Ballintubber Abbey. Tochar Phádraig, as the path is known, is a strenuous walk that reveals ‘fairy hills, ancient relics, and enigmatic locales where the enduring legends of St. Patrick continue to thrive’.
Within the Abbey, a mass gathers for a service held by Father Michael Farragher. His words reverberate off the whitewashed walls before being received by a small, ageing congregation. A stained glass rendering of the patron saint overlooks proceedings. The Abbey facilitates a quiet moment of reflection before pilgrims embark upon a testing walk to the summit of the Reek, where their journey culminates with a prayer atop the summit, at the oratory.
Along the Tochar Phádraig path, towards the imposing Reek, the landscape of rural County Mayo bears the mark of St Patrick and the Catholic faith. He was the founder of the church in Aghagower. From the village's overgrown graveyard, the Reek’s shape protrudes. Its form is ingrained into the consciousness and identity of the local people.
Photography by Jared Phanco
That identity is indelibly attached to music. Johnny Fadian sits atop a stool in Blousers Pub. He’s encouraged by those in the pub to sing. His song, ‘Sticks for the Reek’, recounts the struggle of the Reek Sunday pilgrimage; a musical account that celebrates a rite of passage for all in Co. Mayo and beyond. Local documentarian Oliver Whyte, once a doctor to the people of Westport, has spent the last decade capturing the performances of Fadian. His YouTube channel, laden with field recordings, is a vital record of life in the west of Ireland. Folk song, that which Fadian performs and Whyte records, extends from the warm pubs of Westport to the ominous mountain-top of Croagh Patrick.
As the weather worsens, the Reek’s form changes. The jovial song gives way to a soundtrack of blustery wind and driving rain. The conditions are enough to challenge the hardiest of pilgrims, but, at the summit, hundreds gather to observe mass and confess. Huddled together in union against the elements.
