“As I left my farmyard in early October 2022, I heard a familiar voice - my son, Stephen - saying, ‘He’s off now, let’s have a party!’ If I was worried, I’d have probably reversed the seven tonne truck back into the drive-way, but I don’t do much worrying!
I farm at Woodfield, west Cork. In fact my ancestry goes back to the O’Briens of that area, with Irish patriot Michael Collins’ on the maternal side. Owing to injury, I became a part-time farmer, with Stephen now looking after the ‘heavy lifting’.
Denis pictured outside Clonakilty Parish Centre- his former school, and that of his distant cousin, Michael Collins.
Following a pilgrimage to Knock with Clonakilty meals-on-wheels in the late summer of 2022, I got a chance to visit some south European Marian shrines - a network of religious sanctuaries. In truth, I was less interested in these world-renowned grottos than I was in following my spirit of adventure.
A Hungarian friend needed a truck driven from Cork to Portugal, where he was building a holiday home. I had never driven a vehicle of this size before in Ireland- never mind on the left-hand drive European mainland. Once the insurance was sorted, I set off: just me, a 30 year-old Mercedes truck, an iPhone sat-nav - and a prayer! When I checked out the route, I realised that I would be passing very close to Lourdes in France, Garabandal in Spain and Fatima in Portugal - places I had never been.
Test of faith
My concern throughout the journey was that I didn’t have breakdown insurance. But I had buckets of faith. Landing at Roscoff ferry-port, that faith was tested. I pushed the clutch pedal to the floor - and it stayed there! I was, for the time being, stuck on a small roundabout in France. Prior to leaving west Cork, I talked about the chance of this happening with a parish colleague, John McCarthy. The advice John gave me was, “Pray to Archangel Michael; he’ll sort it for you.” I did, and reaching down with my hand was able to pull the lazy pedal upward. I was on my way. I got used to this routine during my journey. Another adjustment I had to make was to tie a discarded shoe to a stiff accelerator pedal to make it more manageable!
A photo of the old shoe that Denis had to tie onto the accelerator when he arrived in France.
Southbound, I got used to driving in the right lane and also to less compromised traffic overtaking me at speed. I set my sat-nav for Lourdes, about three days’ drive away. I ate at motorway truck stops, but sometimes it was just a dry Weetabix and water on the move. A toll plaza which only accepted credit cards caused consternation. I only had cash and after a lengthy discussion in broken French, I reversed and used the adjoining booth.
Visiting Lourdes
Even in October, Lourdes, with its narrow streets, is not the best place to look for an overnight parking spot for a seven tonner. I eventually found a lay-by about 20 minutes’ walk from the centre. It was 7 October, the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. What a day to land here for the first time.
The long drive had taken its toll, so I rested in the truck before walking into town and following the crowds towards the grotto in the gathering darkness. Thousands of pilgrims were preparing for the nightly candle-lit Rosary procession. Joining the procession, I was aware of the different languages around me. I felt, though, an instant unity with these strangers, especially when we all sang the ‘Ave Maria’ hymn. It triggered a tearful emotion in me which I had experienced in Knock. I thanked Archangel Michael for bringing me safely this far. That night I slept like a log.
The horsebox truck that Denis drove from west Cork through France, Spain and Portugal.
The following day, I attended mass and received confession, with a visit to the miraculous baths. I met only one Irish person over that weekend, retired Bishop Buckley (Cork and Ross diocese) who asked me if I was into road bowling!
The next day, I headed for the Spanish border after mass. I was unaware that 9 October was the Feast Day of St Denis, patron saint of France (and me); secret heavenly winds were blowing at my back.
Garabandal to Fatima
I made slow progress towards Garabandal. It was a 12-hour journey passing much hilly farmland on the way. In this red-roofed village, nestled 600 metres up in the Rena Segra mountains, the Virgin Mary appeared to four school girls in the early 1960s. They said that Archangel Michael appeared first to prepare them. Pope Benedict ensured that the Garabandal story would remain open for investigation and as a special place of worship for Catholics. I was also mentally strengthened by a huge statue of Archangel Michael in the village. He’d be getting many prayers in the days to come!
Garabandal to Fatima looked fairly straightforward on my sat-nav. However, to get there I might as well have tapped in ‘the old road’ instead of ‘toll-road’. The climb over the twisted Cantabrian mountain roads was horrendous and my Lourdes confession was blown to bits with my verbal explosions.
Inside the 30 year old truck
I eventually reached the motorway, which would lead to Fatima via Salamanca. What a peaceful location for the ‘religious’ part of my journey’s end.
The vast square in front of the Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary amazed me. On 13 May 2017, Pope Francis celebrated the centenary of the Marian apparition to Jacinta and Francisco Marto and their cousin, Lucia. Then, nearly a half million people were accommodated here.
After overnighting here, I continued on my journey to southern Portugal and delivered the truck. I then flew to Barcelona to visit another son, who was fascinated with my story. He pointed to the street-name outside - San Miguel - my MAIN MAN!’’
Read more
The ‘agri’-ment of James Joyce
51 pilgrimages to Lourdes
“As I left my farmyard in early October 2022, I heard a familiar voice - my son, Stephen - saying, ‘He’s off now, let’s have a party!’ If I was worried, I’d have probably reversed the seven tonne truck back into the drive-way, but I don’t do much worrying!
I farm at Woodfield, west Cork. In fact my ancestry goes back to the O’Briens of that area, with Irish patriot Michael Collins’ on the maternal side. Owing to injury, I became a part-time farmer, with Stephen now looking after the ‘heavy lifting’.
Denis pictured outside Clonakilty Parish Centre- his former school, and that of his distant cousin, Michael Collins.
Following a pilgrimage to Knock with Clonakilty meals-on-wheels in the late summer of 2022, I got a chance to visit some south European Marian shrines - a network of religious sanctuaries. In truth, I was less interested in these world-renowned grottos than I was in following my spirit of adventure.
A Hungarian friend needed a truck driven from Cork to Portugal, where he was building a holiday home. I had never driven a vehicle of this size before in Ireland- never mind on the left-hand drive European mainland. Once the insurance was sorted, I set off: just me, a 30 year-old Mercedes truck, an iPhone sat-nav - and a prayer! When I checked out the route, I realised that I would be passing very close to Lourdes in France, Garabandal in Spain and Fatima in Portugal - places I had never been.
Test of faith
My concern throughout the journey was that I didn’t have breakdown insurance. But I had buckets of faith. Landing at Roscoff ferry-port, that faith was tested. I pushed the clutch pedal to the floor - and it stayed there! I was, for the time being, stuck on a small roundabout in France. Prior to leaving west Cork, I talked about the chance of this happening with a parish colleague, John McCarthy. The advice John gave me was, “Pray to Archangel Michael; he’ll sort it for you.” I did, and reaching down with my hand was able to pull the lazy pedal upward. I was on my way. I got used to this routine during my journey. Another adjustment I had to make was to tie a discarded shoe to a stiff accelerator pedal to make it more manageable!
A photo of the old shoe that Denis had to tie onto the accelerator when he arrived in France.
Southbound, I got used to driving in the right lane and also to less compromised traffic overtaking me at speed. I set my sat-nav for Lourdes, about three days’ drive away. I ate at motorway truck stops, but sometimes it was just a dry Weetabix and water on the move. A toll plaza which only accepted credit cards caused consternation. I only had cash and after a lengthy discussion in broken French, I reversed and used the adjoining booth.
Visiting Lourdes
Even in October, Lourdes, with its narrow streets, is not the best place to look for an overnight parking spot for a seven tonner. I eventually found a lay-by about 20 minutes’ walk from the centre. It was 7 October, the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. What a day to land here for the first time.
The long drive had taken its toll, so I rested in the truck before walking into town and following the crowds towards the grotto in the gathering darkness. Thousands of pilgrims were preparing for the nightly candle-lit Rosary procession. Joining the procession, I was aware of the different languages around me. I felt, though, an instant unity with these strangers, especially when we all sang the ‘Ave Maria’ hymn. It triggered a tearful emotion in me which I had experienced in Knock. I thanked Archangel Michael for bringing me safely this far. That night I slept like a log.
The horsebox truck that Denis drove from west Cork through France, Spain and Portugal.
The following day, I attended mass and received confession, with a visit to the miraculous baths. I met only one Irish person over that weekend, retired Bishop Buckley (Cork and Ross diocese) who asked me if I was into road bowling!
The next day, I headed for the Spanish border after mass. I was unaware that 9 October was the Feast Day of St Denis, patron saint of France (and me); secret heavenly winds were blowing at my back.
Garabandal to Fatima
I made slow progress towards Garabandal. It was a 12-hour journey passing much hilly farmland on the way. In this red-roofed village, nestled 600 metres up in the Rena Segra mountains, the Virgin Mary appeared to four school girls in the early 1960s. They said that Archangel Michael appeared first to prepare them. Pope Benedict ensured that the Garabandal story would remain open for investigation and as a special place of worship for Catholics. I was also mentally strengthened by a huge statue of Archangel Michael in the village. He’d be getting many prayers in the days to come!
Garabandal to Fatima looked fairly straightforward on my sat-nav. However, to get there I might as well have tapped in ‘the old road’ instead of ‘toll-road’. The climb over the twisted Cantabrian mountain roads was horrendous and my Lourdes confession was blown to bits with my verbal explosions.
Inside the 30 year old truck
I eventually reached the motorway, which would lead to Fatima via Salamanca. What a peaceful location for the ‘religious’ part of my journey’s end.
The vast square in front of the Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary amazed me. On 13 May 2017, Pope Francis celebrated the centenary of the Marian apparition to Jacinta and Francisco Marto and their cousin, Lucia. Then, nearly a half million people were accommodated here.
After overnighting here, I continued on my journey to southern Portugal and delivered the truck. I then flew to Barcelona to visit another son, who was fascinated with my story. He pointed to the street-name outside - San Miguel - my MAIN MAN!’’
Read more
The ‘agri’-ment of James Joyce
51 pilgrimages to Lourdes
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