Other years I bought a schoolbag, this year I bought a sleeping bag.
It hit me that summer was over as I packed for Achill. I was disheartened and yet excited to spend three days somewhere on Achill Island (I still don’t know where I actually was). I sat on my floor staring at two supposedly waterproof jackets, deciding which would be easier to squish into an already full bag, when I was sent a packing list from my friend that added many more things I did not have space for.
I lugged my three bags down the hill towards the buses, with my friends chattering excitedly. It was half seven in the morning, four hours earlier than I had woken up during the three months of summer. I was met with my entire year scattered around the carpark of the school. I dumped my bags into the storage compartment of the bus. We all filed onto the bus, buzzing for the trip. I was only then informed that the journey was five hours long. My excitement was dampened ever so slightly but was definitely still there.
For the first half of the journey, my friends and I talked and played UNO. We arrived at a petrol station after around two and a half hours. It was still only ten o’clock in the morning and I am physically unable to eat that early in the morning. I wandered around the building, looking for anything appealing. I finally decided on a cheese toastie. We got back onto the bus and set out for the second half of the drive.
I fought through car sickness to reach our destination of a humble hostel. It started lashing rain. This was a theme to the whole trip that I’m sure you’ll pick up on. A teacher started to read out room assignments. My friends and I held hands and crossed fingers, hoping to be put together. Their names were called out. Mine was not. Panic ran through my body, immediately erasing any of my happiness that was still left. A man from the hostel came onto the bus to talk to us. Every minute felt agonising as I had no idea who I would spend the next three days with. We all grabbed our bags and sprinted into the hostel. I weaved through the seemingly endless amount of people to find a teacher. We searched through a list to find my name but it was nowhere to be found. I was told to wait for everyone to go to their rooms and they would sort me out. I stood in the lobby as people rushed around me, trying to find bags and rooms. I could feel my heart thudding in my ears and my mind ran though the worst possible room assignments. The coordinator led me to my room and I walked in and was greeted by a room with six bunk beds and no bathroom. I soon learnt that the nearest bathroom was, what felt like, a million miles away.
Our first activity was surfing and, oh my God, it was phenomenal. Changing into the wetsuit, however, was not. I was handed a wetsuit for a twelve year old. I will admit that I am small but not that small. Breathing became a bit more difficult. I carried my tiny wetsuit into a bus with no seats that we were told to change in. Putting on the wetsuit was an arduous task but I prevailed. We carried our surfboards out onto the beach, fighting the gusts of wind trying to push us back. We were taught on land how to stand up on the board. “Oh easy,” I remember thinking. I was, in fact, way too egotistical. I never once stood up. However, it was an incredible experience and I had so much fun getting constantly wrecked by the biggest waves I’ve seen in my entire life. We had straps around our ankles to keep our boards close to us. Mine tried to kill me. It wrapped around both my feet and pulled me under the water. Traumatising. The wind was whooshing all around me and it was all I could hear. I was genuinely considering running away from home and living out the rest of my days on the beach with a surfboard and a bigger wetsuit.
As the bus parked outside the hostel, I stood up, ready to sprint, praying to not have to wait for a shower. I darted out of the bus and down the driveway in my swimsuit, towel and my bare feet. I bolted through the hallways and many, many stairs to my room. I grabbed my shower stuff and made my way to the bathrooms. I won the race to the showers. As warmth slowly seeped back into my extremities, I was called for dinner. I walked into the canteen, absolutely ravenous, to see pink chicken and soggy vegetables. Amazing. But as they say, hunger is the best sauce and so, I devoured it.
The lights were off at half ten and so we all retreated to our rooms. My room wanted to play Truth or Dare. I wanted to play the quiet game. After what felt like five years, they agreed to turn off the lights. I wrapped myself in my sleeping bag and put on my noise cancelling headphones as I am the lightest sleeper known to man. One hour passed, I was still awake. Two hours, still awake. Three hours passed and I felt my bed shake. I opened my weary eyes and was met with the most bizarre sight I’ve ever seen. A girl, who shall remain nameless, was TikTok dancing. I distinctly remember rubbing my eyes, thinking it had to be a hallucination. But no, it was very much real. In the moment, I was so bewildered that I literally couldn’t process it. I just turned around again. I did eventually succumb to my exhaustion and fall asleep.
The next morning, what happened the night before fully dawned on me. I couldn’t do anything but laugh. This was definitely a core memory from the trip.
We woke up at seven in the morning. I sat up and looked around the room. One person was awake already, most were waking up as I was, and the TikTok dancer was fast asleep. It must have been tiring choreography. I searched through my very messy pile of clothes for a dry outfit. I made the gruelling hike to the bathrooms and got changed.
I dragged my feet down the stairs for breakfast. I ate some cereal and a mini muffin. If I could go back, I would eat more. Why? Let me tell you.
Our first activity was cycling. Another word for it was hell. We started the cycle and I was doing well and keeping up. Over time, the fact that my bike was too small came back to haunt me. My back and legs felt as if they were on fire. A teacher raised the seat for me and it became easier from then on, but the damage was already done. Due to my small breakfast, I had very little energy and due to the size of my bike, every pedal was painful. Every hill nearly killed me. Near the end of the cycle, as if I hadn’t suffered enough, it started lashing. The sight of the very last downhill brought me a type of joy that I had never experienced before. After cycling, we had lunch. I walked into the canteen and saw loaves of bread, sandwich ingredients and soup. I made a salami and cheese sandwich and tried some soup.
Our second activity of the day was kayaking. I made sure not to get a size twelve wetsuit again because, believe it or not, I do enjoy breathing. It started drizzling but not for long. My friend, Hope, and I got a double kayak. We kayaked for ten minutes and then we had a race. We made two teams and every duo had to kayak out to the instructor and back before the next two got in. Our team won. After this we got out of the lake and walked through sheep poop to a smaller pond. I was absolutely freezing. My friends were having the time of their life and I was just trying not to let my teeth chatter. After an eternity of floating in ice-cold, dirty water, we were told to get out. We walked back through the sheep poop to the kayaks and kayaked back to the bus. We proceeded to wait half an hour more, in our swimsuits, for the bus to come. I’m not sure I will ever be that cold again.
The dinner that night was incredible. Or maybe I was just hungry. Either way, I enjoyed it. My friends and I could smell the curry from a mile away. We were early and the dinner was still covered. I crossed my fingers as they lifted the cover. It was curry! I grabbed a plate and walked over. I was given curry, rice and slices of potato. I sat down and ate like I’d been starved for the last ten years. After that glorious meal, my energy was renewed and I was ready to enjoy our evening.
I was walking around the building with my friends when we stumbled across a game of mafia. I sat beside my dear friend, Hope, whom I trusted to be innocent. Later on in the game, the mafias made a very smart move. I consider Hope to be intelligent and so, I grew suspicious of her. We voted her out and it was confirmed that she was a mafia. As we walked away from the game to my room, I explained my thought process to her and she admitted that the elimination I considered smart was just random.
In my room, we played a few games such as Dobble. Bedtime soon approached, and everyone went back to their rooms. I got in bed and immediately fell asleep. There was no TikTok dancing that night, or at least none to my knowledge.
On the third day, I woke up once more to my alarm. Exhausted was an understatement. I sat on the floor and stared at the mound of clothes under my bed. I had no idea how it all fit into my bag the first time. I folded everything haphazardly and prayed for a miracle. I somehow managed to get everything in. I then took on the monumental task of putting my sleeping bag back into its cover. I must have rolled it ten times before my friends saved me by doing it for me.
I went down for breakfast and the canteen was significantly less chaotic than the first day.
Our last activity was hiking. This was definitely the easiest activity of our trip. My friends and I played a few games but eventually fell into silence. We all shared headphones and I listened to the Zombies 4 soundtrack against my will. We were halfway through the hike when the heavens opened, and we got completely drenched. This was the moment of truth, was my jacket waterproof? No. No, it was not. My tracksuit bottoms were so soaked that they weighed me down when I walked.
After nearly getting hypothermia, the bus collected us and the seats got a nice wash in the process. I got back to an empty room and changed out of my waterlogged clothes and threw them in one of my many plastic bags. I tied it closed and stuffed it into my bag. We then sat down for our last meal of the trip. I had a salami and cheese sandwich again.
I picked up my bags and looked around my room for the last time, at the rock hard bed, the window we couldn’t properly close, and the fire exit sign that shined through the whole night. And of course, to round off our trip, it started lashing as we packed the bus. Two of my friends ran onto the bus to get us seats and the other two of us frantically threw our bags in the storage compartment.
We all waved goodbye to the hostel and the bus fell into a tired silence. I put on my headphones, closed my eyes, and dreamt of my bed and a chinese takeaway. Eventually, we made it to the petrol station. We all lined up for Supermacs. I got a portion of chips and stared at the floor in silence as I ate. After this, everyone was more lively and talkative.
I was keeping in touch with my family group chat during the journey. I told them I was in Ballinalack, to which my brother replied, “When you’re there, it’s Ballinalackofbraincells.” He’s hilarious, isn’t he?
I stared out the window for the whole drive. When I saw the Metro Hotel, I sighed a sigh of relief. I’m nearly home.
Finally, we arrived at the school. I searched through the millions of Féile kit bags to find mine. I dragged my feet to my mother’s car and fell into the front seat. I nearly cried from happiness to sit on something comfortable. We collected my chinese takeaway on the way home and that night I slept like a log. Best sleep of my life.
Other years I dumped a schoolbag at the door, this year I dumped a sleeping bag.
Rebecca N.
4 Veritas