From the archives: Lone pilgrim had harrowing experience on the Reek

Ahead of Reek Sunday this weekend, Tom Gillespie has been having a look through the archives of The Connaught Telegraph at stories around pilgrimages to Croagh Patrick in years past...

A TRAIL of bloodstained footprints was all that could tell the real story of the great agony endured by a lone pilgrim who set out barefooted to climb Croagh Patrick in November 1963, and had the most painful 12 hours ever experienced perhaps by any of the millions of pilgrims who throughout the ages have taken part in pilgrimages to Ireland’s holy mountain since the time of our national apostle.

The lone pilgrim, who arrived in this country after a 3,000 miles voyage from America, was Stephen Hudson, California, who, according to The Connaught Telegraph of November 9, 1963, was recovering at the County Hospital, Castlebar, after his terrible ordeal.

Fit and eager to fulfil his wish to follow in the footsteps of St. Patrick on the difficult journey up the Reek, this American-born visitor to Ireland, who was making the ascent for a special intention, decided to do it in the usual traditional manner, so on reaching the first station, he left his shoes at the statue of St. Patrick and headed up the mountain barefooted.

Braving heavy rain and washed by a strong gale, this lone pilgrim’s progress was slow and torturous, as his tender feet soon got the worst of the wear and were cut by sharp stones.

Up and up he climbed until eventually the stage was reached where the skin was torn off the soles of his feet and, as he slowly advanced in a determined effort to reach the top, he left a trail of bloodstained footprints behind him.

The ordeal grew more difficult as he hobbled up the mountain on the age-old beaten pilgrims’ path, with the rain falling heavier and the wind blowing stronger.

Eventually he crawled on his hands and knees up the last and steepest cone of the mountain, so well known to everyone who has made this pilgrimage.

On reaching the summit he fell into a state of exhaustion, saturated through, chilled to the marrow and in agonising pain.

When interview by our reporter, Mr. Hudson, who said he was still in great pain, was sitting on a chair with two badly cut feet resting on another chair and crutches close by. He never found himself in such a predicament as he was when he lay on top of Croagh Patrick unable to move.

Mr. Hudson said: “I was lying on top of the 2,510 feet mountain, beaten by heavy rain which was accompanied by a strong gale, and unable to walk as the skin was completely gone off my feet, which were bleeding profusely.

“I was in great pain, but as I lay there my mind went back to some time ago when I read a book back home about the pilgrimage to Croagh Patrick.

“I thought of all the men and women over 70 years of age who show such great faith in climbing the mountain barefooted every year and making a safe return journey.

“I said to myself ‘I am not going to be lost’. So, with no one to guide me except St. Patrick, I started from the very top of the mountain to make the hazardous descent by lifting myself up with my hands and sliding down.”

He continued: “It was only the spirit the old people who climbed the mountain in the past who urged me down, but with the strong wind, heavy rain and stones rolling like avalanches after me, the first steep part of the journey down was really terrifying.

“However, worse happened when the seat of my pants got worn and torn, and new pains hit me. As I rested at this stage I was really in a terrible state, but every time I began to give up hope something seemed to spur me on and give me new energy.

“I tell you I prayed hard as I continued on my way on my hands and knees, but new trouble came from time to time as I shivered and moved through the mud, slush and mountain streams - it was the thought I could get pneumonia.

“This added to the agony I was suffering, as I had some chest trouble before. It really nearly made me give up hope and lie down and die.”

Mr. Hudson went in: “Slowly, as night was beginning to fall, I progressed and after an 8½ hours journey from the top, I reached the bottom. I crawled to the roadside and collapsed. After lying there for some time I was picked and taken to hospital.”

He added: “My feet are gradually improving, but the pain is terrible and it seems it will be some time before I get a new coat of skin.”

Mr. Hudson, who was in his early 20s, said he had spent some time in the US Marines, was rather restless and wandered around for education. He worked on some Los Angeles newspapers for a time. He was anxious to come to Ireland - the home of his ancestors - where he hoped to work and earn sufficient money to educate himself.

He made the voyage in a boat which eventually took him to Galway. From there he headed for Croagh Patrick and even though it was an ordeal, he will never forget it, and, he said: “I will return again some day and climb that mountain again.”

He has been in touch with the US Embassy, but until such time as his feet were healed he had no define plans regarding what he would do but it seemed he would spend some considerable time in hospital.

He expressed his thanks to the hospital medical staff for the kindness shown to him.