A Personal Pilgrimage
The top of Croagh Patrick has been covered in a tiny toupee of mist for most of the week, giving me a fantastic excuse not to walk up it.
Today, although it was a grey day, the summit was surprisingly clear. So I had to find a new reason.
At the foot of the mountain, I consulted with Holy Mary through the medium of sketch. When she turned into Fanny Craddock on my page, I took it as a clear sign that heading to the summit spelled doom.
I abandoned the disastrous sketch and opted to do the Murrisk loop. A lovely walk with plenty of sketching and no slippery scree.
After my run in with Mary, I went subtle on St Patrick’s face.
The views of Clew Bay are excellent. Even the sheep agree. Here’s Clare Island and the beautiful spit of Betra Beach.
Down in the village I finally got to see the Fisherman’s Memorial. Those cyclists took off pretty quickly. Must have been the way I looked at them!
My personal pilgrimage could only end at the Sheebeen with a bottle of Westport, Mescan.

By the time I’d managed a truly bracing dip in the Atlantic, it was just visible from the lovely 
