The transition from stage 3 to 4 took an outrageous 15 minutes. It was a chance to take a breather, eat and get some dry socks on before the first cycling stage. I only had one pair of footwear (running shoes) which were covered in mud, peat and thoroughly saturated; if I do this again a pair of cycling shoes will be top of my list of essentials.At first my legs didn't mind the switch from running to cycling but the long down hill start to stage 4 probably had a lot to do with that. All good things come to an end and the fast down hill spin soon gave way to a very gradual but very long uphill climb that seemed to go on forever.
The route to Croagh Patrick (or the Reek) was rural, beautiful and as you'd expect from unbeaten paths the road surface was varied but luckily cycleable, if indeed that is a word. We cycled up some challenging hills and down some hair raising descends with very little level grounds to recover on. Occasionally the Reek came into sight as we rounded some corners or reached the crest of hills with uninterrupted views of the mountain. At first it looked like an insignificant spec in the distance but it grew in size and scariness with each sighting. The 32.5km stage took a massive 1 hour 58 minutes to complete when, exhausted, we parked the bikes and looked up in horror at the sheer scale of the mountain we were about to climb.
Stage 5 began with a dash across a timing mat and a hand full of fig roll biscuits. Normally I hate the taste of fig rolls but I guess my body decided that I badly need them and switched off my taste buds because I couldn't get enough of them.
We had an open field to cross before we reached the mountain. There were no tracks to follow, the the footsteps of earlier runners with ditches, streams and bog holes to navigate. It was difficult terrain to cross but it paled into insignificance when we reached the mountain.
The terrain continued to be boggy and the angle of accent was surprisingly steep; it was 1:1 in places and with no solid surface to walk on it was very, very difficult. Couple all that with exhaustion and the fact the we were only starting out assent it was hardly surprising that despair quickly set in. I'm sure everyone devised their own strategy to keep going, mine was simple one more step and try not to look up or down. It worked for the most part but every so often I had to stop and ask why, why were we doing this. That question was painted on the faces of climbers behind me, there were a sea of expressions from desperation to determination, frequently on the same face. Looking down at what we had achieved did feel good. However, looking up at what we had yet to climb was crushing and I'm happy to admit it brought a tear to my eye on several occasions.
After a hard climb we reached the pilgrims path, this is a well travelled rocky path that runs from the outskirts of Westport to the summit. Here we met a stream of pilgrims of all ages moving up and down the mountain. Although relieved to reach the path we were still quite a distance from the summit. At this point the climb became a scramble as the gradient seemed to become more extreme the higher we got but this part of the climb was the easiest and not having to battle through a near vertical marsh was something of a relief.
Eventually the faint outline of a building came into view and I knew the end was nigh! There is a small church at the summit which marks the end of this gruelling climb. There were some race stewards handing out coloured bracelets as proof that we reached the summit. I had to sit down and rest for a bit but couldn't stay long as the cold thin wind cut through me like a knife.
The return journey was so different, while not easy it was a lot easier than the torturous assent. As I climbed down I could see a track that seemed to run down the side of the mountain we had climbed up but it looked like it would take us way past the starting point so it may not be any good. When I got to the track I decided to take it and when I drew level with our starting point I left the path and headed straight down hill, through the near vertical marsh and bog. When I reached level ground again I met some surprised runners who wondered why I had taken the direct route, after all the path snaked around to here... bugger! It turned out that if I had looked at the map I been given at registration that path would have been the obvious choice for both the assent and descent. It would have been a much longer route but the effort would have been halved, oh well!
Stage 5 came to an end after 4.5km of the most difficult terrain I have even crossed, it took a staggering 1 hour 50 minutes to complete and I was so, so happy to get back on that saddle for a free wheeling downhill start to stage 6
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