P, a guy from Barcelona that checked in by the morning in The Old Mill Hostel, spread quickly in the atmosphere his smile, sporty spirit and energy.
We rented two bikes. P was my guide; no one really knew the way, we asked for directions a couple of times to some drivers and after 8 kilometers enjoying the sight of the west of Ireland we were ready to climb the mountain.
I must confess something. I chose the wrong bike; maybe a smaller would have worked better for me. I fell down at least 3 times, don't laugh, that was just in the first 15 minutes of our journey. I simply was rusty because the last time I rode one was, maybe, in 2000 or 2001. And the time before that, I still was a teenager, when I was aged 15 or 16. Now I’m my late 30s.
But I survived. Ride a bike it was the easy part because the really hard one was beginning. I was in front of Croagh Patrick with its 764 meters. Guatemala, the place where I born, is a land of mountains and volcanoes but I never before had climbed a mountain from the bottom to the top.
I was a little scared.
Pictures by Braliem Jousc, except this. P took it.