Lough Derg, UK - Praying barefoot, rain, hail or shine. Fasting for three days. It can only be the Lough Derg Pilgrimage.
St Patrick's Purgatory, Lough Derg, boasts breathtaking scenery and magnificent buildings.
However, I'm not on this secluded Donegal island for the views.
I'm on a mission - to pray barefoot and fast for three days.
My friend and I are residing at Room 288 - a sparse dormitory room on a never-ending corridor.
Inside, there is a mirror, sink, curtainless window, two bunk beds with a neat, folded stack of two starched white sheets and two yellowing itchy blankets.
Not relying on Mother Nature to bring me the heatwave I requested, I immediately start putting on layers of clothes - a pair of shorts, three-quarter-length trousers and a pair of jeans, followed by a vest, T-shirt, a long-sleeved top, two rugby shirts, a zip-up cardigan and my heavy winter coat and scarf.
Three stations must be completed before pilgrims are called to Mass later that night. (A station involves visiting, walking around, standing or kneeling at various outdoor locations on the island while saying the Rosary or a combination of prayers, depending on the location.)
Daily vigil
I look at the endless list of prayers to be said and wave goodbye to my bed - I won't get to lie in it until 10pm the following night when my vigil ends.
Dusk is falling as I wearily walk clockwise around the basilica four times while saying seven decades of the Rosary, according to my instructions. It starts to rain. I put my hood up and continue.
First station finished, I find my friend. She's half way through her second station, but abandons it at the mention of tea. We are allowed one Lough Derg meal of black tea and toast before night prayer at 9pm.
We quickly make our way to the main entrance of the canteen. A small gang of starving people has gathered. Two women are battering the door.
"Let us in," they screech. "We haven't got our tea yet!"
They spy an open window and one of them sticks her head through it.
"Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo," she continues wailing, as if she has just heard that the world is about to end.
There's no response, except for the smell of toast wafting through the window.
"I can see people in there," the woman informs us. "They're all sitting in there... drinking... their... tea."
Eventually, a woman comes to the window. "The canteen is shut and doesn't open again until after Mass."
We all sigh, saying that nobody told us and muttering under our breath about being starving and freezing…or words to that effect. It's no use.
"Don't blame me," says the canteen lady. "I'm only following orders." And with that, she shuts the window.
Hundreds of pilgrims
At the first of many Masses, the priest tells us that today, 218 pilgrims made the journey to the island in this final week of this year's three-day pilgrimage season.
It mustn't be that bad then, if there's such a big crowd, I think to myself. Would I still be thinking that on the boat home?
When the Mass over, I get my first taste of Lough Derg cuisine. Bottomless pots of tea and coffee and unlimited amounts of dry oatcakes or toast.
The plates just keep coming, and I sip my tea as slowly as possible trying to delay my time spent outdoors in the elements.
Our vigil begins at 10.15pm and concludes 24 hours later. We've a jam-packed timetable to get through, including a rosary, five stations, two Masses and four other services.
During this time, we can have as much Lough Derg soup (hot water with salt and pepper) as we want and one meal of black tea and toast.
I cannot emphasis enough how long the day is.
Each time I try to begin an Our Father, I somehow end up finishing it with the words of the Hail Mary… and I think of food every other second.
Chips and curry sauce, to be exact. I never realised how much I like them!
When ten o'clock on day two eventually comes, I stagger up the stairs to my bunk bed and pass out, and dream of curry chips.
At 6am, I awaken to the noise of piercing pips. Good Morning Ulster, I think to myself. But it's not Wendy Austin's voice I hear. It's a lady announcing instructions for Mass.
Three hours 45 minutes until the first boat departs.
It is said that those vowing never to return should not look back at Lough Derg on the boat ride home as it means they will return. I decided to look back because I know that someday I will. Well, maybe just for a day trip.
Who knows, I might have changed my mind again before my fast finishes at midnight.