Several times in the lead-up to Lough Derg, I was filled with a sense of dread. Considering that, at 24, I fit the bill of “millennial” perfectly, you may think this unease is due to the lack of food, sleep or footwear involved. Those particulars do bother me, but my primary concern is, in fact, my imperfect Catholicism.
At best, I could be considered a buffet Catholic, choosing the bits I think are OK and ignoring the rest. Then why, I hear you ask, am I going on what is considered the most difficult pilgrimage in Europe? Curiosity, to prove I can, and maybe to see if I can make sense of the complex 21st century relationship I have developed with God.
The three-day pilgrimage takes place on a small island in the middle of Lough Derg, Co Donegal. It’s done barefoot, while fasting on one meal of dry toast and black tea per day. Stations of the penitential beds are completed throughout the weekend, which involves walking and kneeling on stones while praying.
Completing stations of the penitential beds involves walking and kneeling on stones while praying.
From 10pm on the day of arrival to 10pm the following day, pilgrims hold a vigil. For me, this translates to being awake for 38 hours. Pilgrim season takes place across 11 weeks, from June through to August, and people can arrive any day they want.
The arrival
Travelling on the boat across Lough Derg, the first thing that strikes me is its beauty. The second is that I feel a little out of place, akin to walking into a party and knowing no one.
In the dorms I take off my shoes. The instructions state that I need to complete three stations of the penitential beds before that evening. In my nervous state, I miss half the leaflet and consequently don’t know what to do. I walk around St Patrick’s Basilica trying to figure things out. In the end I bite the bullet and ask a lady, who kindly explains.
Lough Derg
During the first station I wonder why everyone makes this out to be so difficult. By the third I wince as I kneel down, but there are people a lot older than me managing fine. One woman I find out later is well in her 80s, which gives me a good dose of cop-on.
Beforehand, I thought for certain that I would be the youngest here by far. How wrong I couldn’t have been. There is a 15-year-old boy from Dublin on the pilgrimage with his father and 10 pupils from St Louis Grammar School in Ballymena, Co Antrim.
Their teacher, Jacqui O’Neill, began bringing school groups three years ago.
“You are always nervous when you bring a group, but I think they have coped really well,” she explains. “We have one pupil, he came with us last year, he’s left school now to go to university and asked could he come back with us again.”
The night
Quite soon into the pilgrimage, I realise that my packing missed the mark. In midsummer, with a heatwave beginning to poke its head, I packed just one jumper and a light jacket. This was a mistake.
With little food, no sleep and every ounce of heat in your body pouring through your feet at night, the cold is immense and, for me, is the most difficult aspect of the pilgrimage.
Before the nighttime vigil, I get speaking with a lady in her 60s, who has done the pilgrimage more than 15 times and takes me under her wing.
“Have you leggings?” she asks.
I reply that I have. She tells me to go up to the dorm and put them on under my jeans, along with every other piece of clothing I have. Soon, I am glad to have taken her advice as, between the temperature and tiredness, the first night is the biggest challenge for me.
So too for Maria Maes, who is Belgian, but living in Derry. A first-timer, Maria describes it as a “spiritual workout”. It’s like going to the gym, she deduces: at the time you may not like it, but you know it’s good for you.
The day
The next morning, at around six o’clock, I don’t think there’s any possibility I’ll stay awake for a further 16 hours.
However, a second wind comes and to last the day, everyone speaks with each other. Pilgrims don’t have their phones and, without technology, conversation seems less superficial.
Mary and Marian are part of a group of six, who have come from St Francis’s in Handsworth, Birmingham. They have been doing the three-day pilgrimage for many years, Marian for over 30.
Over the years, Marian says they have seen huge changes. “The numbers have gone down. When I first came, it was absolutely heaving. You had to wait to get on the beds, some of the pilgrims would start monitoring it themselves when it got too packed.”
Lough Derg.
These seasoned hands tell me not to eat my meal until around 4pm. Any sooner and it’s too long to wait until bedtime. Once a day, pilgrims are allowed as much dry toast, oat cakes, black tea/coffee and sugar as they want.
We are so happy to see food, it may as well be a Michelin star restaurant. Sitting down with people I have never met, the talk is as easy and happy as at any table I have ever sat around. The others lend me their wisdom, saying to take the duvet from my empty top bunk and put it underneath me for comfort. That night I sleep immediately.
The end
Getting ready to go home, I have never been so happy to put a pair of socks on my feet.
If there’s one thing Lough Derg has taught me: it’s that life is as much about perspective as anything else. The experience also restored my faith in humanity slightly. The people who I thought would scorn me for my scant religion, in fact carried me on their backs.
Leaving on the boat, I’m happy. Whether it’s going home or the sense of accomplishment, I’m unsure. The latter I think. The lady beside me asks will I come again.
The three-day pilgrimage in Lough Derg is incredibly tough. But in a world where we are incredibly comfortable, maybe it’s good to shock the body and the mind. Overall it was a positive experience.
All the same, I tell her I’m unsure, possibly not.
She replies that many people feel similarly, but something pricks them in time and they return.
I guess we’ll have to wait and see.CL
The three day pilgrimage in Lough Derg costs €75. See www.loughderg.org.
Read more
The resurrection of Kiltullagh
Sr Orla Treacy: The Selfless Sister
Several times in the lead-up to Lough Derg, I was filled with a sense of dread. Considering that, at 24, I fit the bill of “millennial” perfectly, you may think this unease is due to the lack of food, sleep or footwear involved. Those particulars do bother me, but my primary concern is, in fact, my imperfect Catholicism.
At best, I could be considered a buffet Catholic, choosing the bits I think are OK and ignoring the rest. Then why, I hear you ask, am I going on what is considered the most difficult pilgrimage in Europe? Curiosity, to prove I can, and maybe to see if I can make sense of the complex 21st century relationship I have developed with God.
The three-day pilgrimage takes place on a small island in the middle of Lough Derg, Co Donegal. It’s done barefoot, while fasting on one meal of dry toast and black tea per day. Stations of the penitential beds are completed throughout the weekend, which involves walking and kneeling on stones while praying.
Completing stations of the penitential beds involves walking and kneeling on stones while praying.
From 10pm on the day of arrival to 10pm the following day, pilgrims hold a vigil. For me, this translates to being awake for 38 hours. Pilgrim season takes place across 11 weeks, from June through to August, and people can arrive any day they want.
The arrival
Travelling on the boat across Lough Derg, the first thing that strikes me is its beauty. The second is that I feel a little out of place, akin to walking into a party and knowing no one.
In the dorms I take off my shoes. The instructions state that I need to complete three stations of the penitential beds before that evening. In my nervous state, I miss half the leaflet and consequently don’t know what to do. I walk around St Patrick’s Basilica trying to figure things out. In the end I bite the bullet and ask a lady, who kindly explains.
Lough Derg
During the first station I wonder why everyone makes this out to be so difficult. By the third I wince as I kneel down, but there are people a lot older than me managing fine. One woman I find out later is well in her 80s, which gives me a good dose of cop-on.
Beforehand, I thought for certain that I would be the youngest here by far. How wrong I couldn’t have been. There is a 15-year-old boy from Dublin on the pilgrimage with his father and 10 pupils from St Louis Grammar School in Ballymena, Co Antrim.
Their teacher, Jacqui O’Neill, began bringing school groups three years ago.
“You are always nervous when you bring a group, but I think they have coped really well,” she explains. “We have one pupil, he came with us last year, he’s left school now to go to university and asked could he come back with us again.”
The night
Quite soon into the pilgrimage, I realise that my packing missed the mark. In midsummer, with a heatwave beginning to poke its head, I packed just one jumper and a light jacket. This was a mistake.
With little food, no sleep and every ounce of heat in your body pouring through your feet at night, the cold is immense and, for me, is the most difficult aspect of the pilgrimage.
Before the nighttime vigil, I get speaking with a lady in her 60s, who has done the pilgrimage more than 15 times and takes me under her wing.
“Have you leggings?” she asks.
I reply that I have. She tells me to go up to the dorm and put them on under my jeans, along with every other piece of clothing I have. Soon, I am glad to have taken her advice as, between the temperature and tiredness, the first night is the biggest challenge for me.
So too for Maria Maes, who is Belgian, but living in Derry. A first-timer, Maria describes it as a “spiritual workout”. It’s like going to the gym, she deduces: at the time you may not like it, but you know it’s good for you.
The day
The next morning, at around six o’clock, I don’t think there’s any possibility I’ll stay awake for a further 16 hours.
However, a second wind comes and to last the day, everyone speaks with each other. Pilgrims don’t have their phones and, without technology, conversation seems less superficial.
Mary and Marian are part of a group of six, who have come from St Francis’s in Handsworth, Birmingham. They have been doing the three-day pilgrimage for many years, Marian for over 30.
Over the years, Marian says they have seen huge changes. “The numbers have gone down. When I first came, it was absolutely heaving. You had to wait to get on the beds, some of the pilgrims would start monitoring it themselves when it got too packed.”
Lough Derg.
These seasoned hands tell me not to eat my meal until around 4pm. Any sooner and it’s too long to wait until bedtime. Once a day, pilgrims are allowed as much dry toast, oat cakes, black tea/coffee and sugar as they want.
We are so happy to see food, it may as well be a Michelin star restaurant. Sitting down with people I have never met, the talk is as easy and happy as at any table I have ever sat around. The others lend me their wisdom, saying to take the duvet from my empty top bunk and put it underneath me for comfort. That night I sleep immediately.
The end
Getting ready to go home, I have never been so happy to put a pair of socks on my feet.
If there’s one thing Lough Derg has taught me: it’s that life is as much about perspective as anything else. The experience also restored my faith in humanity slightly. The people who I thought would scorn me for my scant religion, in fact carried me on their backs.
Leaving on the boat, I’m happy. Whether it’s going home or the sense of accomplishment, I’m unsure. The latter I think. The lady beside me asks will I come again.
The three-day pilgrimage in Lough Derg is incredibly tough. But in a world where we are incredibly comfortable, maybe it’s good to shock the body and the mind. Overall it was a positive experience.
All the same, I tell her I’m unsure, possibly not.
She replies that many people feel similarly, but something pricks them in time and they return.
I guess we’ll have to wait and see.CL
The three day pilgrimage in Lough Derg costs €75. See www.loughderg.org.
Read more
The resurrection of Kiltullagh
Sr Orla Treacy: The Selfless Sister
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