A week after my brother died, I needed to get out of my home and go somewhere new on my own. I wasn’t dreading the long car journey, I was actually looking forward to it. Driving for hours blasting a playlist has become a therapeutic escape for me; a way to process my thoughts and feelings. Knowing you are going somewhere and just letting yourself embrace the journey there. Phone-free. People-free. Just you and the road.

When I arrived at the cabin I’d booked into (it wasn’t actually a cabin but the inside reminded me of one), the wild sea air slapped me across the face. It was a rural area with scenic mountains and ocean views but only a ten minute drive from Westport town. The owner of the place lit a fire and I was soon thankful cos I realised I’d never had to start a fire on my own. (The Shame)

Fifteen minutes into sitting on the couch and staring at flames, I wondered if coming to a cabin alone was an awful idea and if I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. But, as with all feelings, the panic soon passed and I used it as motivation to leave the house and walk by the sea.

Years ago, my brother and I talked about hiking Croagh Patrick together. It’s one of those things we always said we’d do but we just never got around to doing. It was one of those ‘one day’ ideas. So, one day arrived and I hiked Croagh Patrick without my brother. But if someone could physically be with you when in your thoughts, then my brother was with me the whole journey, the whole weekend actually.

So what is Croagh Patrick?

It’s a popular religous pilgrimage in Ireland. But there is no set dress atire or right/wrong way to complete the hike. On the way up the mountain, a guy passed me out with a Lucozade Sport bottle in one hand, a jumper in the other. Then I soon met a woman skidding downhill many stones in her flat Nike runners. There were young girls in belly tops and leggings, older women in rain jackets and hiking boots holding sticks (myself included). One guy was sprinting down the mountain like it was his regular morning run, dodging me before I had time to even acknowledge him.

I started the hike with just me and my stick, but soon met many people and sheep along the way. As I turned a new corner or started a set of steps, I kept presuming I was near the top of the mountain, then I’d soon learn I was still far off. What didn’t help was random people kept reassuring me I was almost at the top, when I most certainly wasn’t. But maybe my red skin was in need of a kind word to cool it down.

The critical voice on the way up kept warning me to turn back:

I could be on the couch eating chocolate, this is too steep.

But I kept having ‘wow’ moments when I’d stop and appreciate the view. The more I got into the hike, the more I wanted to see. And that critical voice soon grew even more tired than I was cos they shut up. I tried to capture the scenery on my phone, but I was annoyed when it suddenly died. I had the battery fully charged so couldn’t understand how it happened. But maybe I wasn’t supposed to be hiking through the lens of a camera. Maybe it doesn’t need to be shared with the whole world. I kept going.

When you go somewhere alone, it’s natural to become hyperaware of all the couples and families and friends surrounding you. Especially if you’ve just lost a loved one. I smiled as I saw a couple get engaged. A family bickering over where to go for their Sunday dinner afterwards. A child encouraging their mother to hike to the top.

Though these moments could have reminded me:

I just lost my brother. My family has changed. I have no job. I am single. I haven’t a clue how to deal with my present life nevermind my future.

Instead, I appreciated these moments of normality and love between strangers even more. It reminded me how beautiful and wonderful the ordinary everyday things are. The ones we don’t document on camera. Though I think it’s incredible to do a solo hike, it’s also extra incredible to have someone you want to share that with.

Once I reached the top of Croagh Patrick, I had an adrenaline rush but it was FREEZING. I was so cold! Remember to bring layers and water. It was also super overcast so I didn’t get to see the wonderful view from the top but that didn’t matter. Well, it didn’t matter to me cos I was just happy I made it, but there was an American couple who were very close to divorce after bickering about the weather. I was asked to take pictures for different couples so much I started to consider becoming the Croagh Patrick Photographer and making a bit of money out of the business.

As I hiked back down the mountain, I was ecstatic when the sun broke through the clouds. It is a lot more dangerous going downhill, but what’s the rush? I took in the views and had a weird intimate moment with a flock of sheep who had curly horns; they were staring at me while hopping over a stream.

The clear view on the way down was one I felt so grateful for. The beauty of the area. The cheery hellos and the shared moments with complete strangers. The little encounters that make you feel alive.

Going away on my own and hiking Croagh Patrick didn’t fix my pain. It was overwhelmingly difficult at times. But if you are grieving I think going somewhere new can help you realise how you feel and to process your individual loss without the noise of the outside world.

I would always suggest solo traveling and hiking to anyone who needs space from their life or wants to focus on themselves. Visiting a new environment can bring up parts of yourself you didn’t even know existed. You can make decisions without worrying about others, and you could be more inclined to try new activities and speak to new people. Stepping out of your current comfort zone could be a step in the right direction to your ideal comfort zone. It’s a good kind of scary.

On my way back from Westport, I drove through Connemara. It was a cold Autumn day with colorful leaves falling. If you are in Ireland, I highly recommend the West of Ireland.

Enjoy some of my pictures.