Tag: Connemara

Doo Lough Valley

though gorgeous, the Doo Lough Valley is known for one of the more devastating tragedies I heard about the Famine.
 in March 1849, destitute tenants of Louisburgh were told to walk to the lodge at Delphi (where they were told they would meet an inspector who would determine whether they could continue receiving assistance). some six hundred people set out on the twelve-mile walk along a beautiful but desolate valley. when they arrived at Delphi Lodge, they were turned away. (the inspector was supposed to show up in Louisburgh, but went on to Delphi Lodge for some reason instead.) the people were already devestatingly weak from malnutrition and years of living under the oppression of the Famine. numbers are disputed (at least between the places i checked), but on the walk back from Delphi Lodge to Louisburgh as many as 200 people died. there’s a stone cross commemorating the tragedy just over the road from where i am standing in this picture. every year there is a Memorial Walk, and in 1988 (just prior to the abolition of apartheid) Desmond Tutu participated.
that’s the thing about Connemara; because it was so dependant on the potato, the area was particularly affected by the Famine. it seems that around every corner there is some reminder of tragedy on some scale. but in spite of that, life has moved on; can’t dwell on tragedy and loss forever, even if it has dramatically shaped the present and fundamentally altered the course that events might take.
(Joseph O’Connor has an interesting historical fiction novel that personalizes the effects of the Famine, in which the characters hail from Connemara (the nearest town is Clifden, and the Big City is Galway): Star of the Sea.)

Croagh Patrick

Saint Patrick (c. 390-460 c.e.) is the patron saint of Ireland and there are many, many locations across the island that claim some affiliation and draw pilgrims. one of these is Croagh Patrick, a peak of just over 2,500 feet that lies five miles from the town of Westport in Co. Mayo on Clew Bay. on “Reek Sunday” (the last Sunday in July), some 15,000 pilgrims climb the mountain. the most penitent climb to the summit in bare feet. on my way up, I saw one guy coming down in that fashion, and I spoke with another Irish person who’d made the trip at least once.

during the 5th century, Patrick climbed to the top of “the Reek,” fasted for forty days and forty nights. at the end of the period, he rang a bell (or threw it off the peak, in some versions), knocked a she-demon from the sky and banished all the “snakes” from Ireland. there’s a chapel on the summit where they hold services on Reek Sunday, and on other occasions.

i’d already gone on two decent walks this day, and it was already about 4 pm when I arrived at the parking lot at the base of Croagh Patrick. but i’d driven all that way, so I thought I’d start walking and see how far I could get. my guide book recommended allowing three hours to get from the base to mountaintop chapel, and another two hours to get back down again. i knew i wouldn’t have enough time before the sun set to get up and back, starting at 4pm, but i thought i’d see how far i could get in an hour, before turning back around. an hour in, i was already about 2/3 of the way up, so i decided to keep going. made it up in a breathless and exhilarating two and a half hours, had good look at the views from the summit. the hour-long trip back down was rougher in a lot of ways — the whole “going down” strain on the quads. and the shifting scree was harder to predict on the way down, and my feet went straight out from under me at one point. thought i’d have a nice bruise on my tailbone the next day, but it turned out that the challenge of shifting (and walking) posed by my aching quads overwhelmed any soreness that might otherwise have occurred.

needless to say, i slept like a log that night. it was faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantastic.

Kylemore Abbey

Kylemore Castle (now Abbey) was built for Mitchell Henry and his wife during the 1860s. the couple honeymooned in Connemara during the Famine and loved the area so much they determined to establish an estate here. they employed many of the local community in building their new home at a time when there was no work and no prospects, particularly in an area as hard-hit by the potato blight as Connemara. consequently, the family was well respected by the local community, even now i am told.

i chose not to go in to the Abbey gardens or buildings — running short on time and disinclined to spend the entrance fee. but i think the location speaks enough for the place. imagine living here, or attending boarding school here!

after Mitchell Henry’s wife died, he didn’t return to Kylmore and, following his death, it was sold to someone with “new money” (in 1903) who squandered his money and ultimately lost the property (ten years later). in 1920, it was purchased by an order of Benedictine nuns, who have run it as a school since 1923 and who have restored the gardens to their original (and intended) glory. they make pottery, which they sell on the premesis (i got a tea mug with fucias painted on it), and the lake is (apparently) good for fishing.

a plant matter: peat

peat. that rich loamy stuff that carpets much of Ireland. used for heating and, yes, gives off a particular scent when burned. Connemara is covered by blanket peat bogs, and driving up from Clifden bogs stretched in all directions in various stages of harvest. cutting of peat for fuel (called ‘turf’ once cut) has changed the landscape of Ireland. hiking in Connemara National Park (one of six national parks in Ireland) gave me an opportunity to see the stuff up close. there are two types of bogs: blanket and raised, the former prevalent along the more mountainous coastal regions in the west, the latter in the valleys of the middle of the island. it’s easier to harvest from raised bogs, and so consequently the bogs in central Ireland have been more greatly affected by turf cutting. the blanket bogs aren’t as deep, so they’ve fared somewhat better. while I was hiking, the loam looked so rich and inviting that I felt compelled to pry off a piece and really get my hands on it. the stuff is rich: it feels rich and smells rich and i suspect that if I’d been possessed to take a bite, it would also have tasted rich..

turf is cut with a special kind of spade in the form of bricks. usually they’re hacked from the bog in rows, cutting downward into the face of the bog, depleting the bog six-inches deep at a shot. once it’s cut, it’s left to dry on the bog for a week, before being re-stacked for further drying. in the second photo, you can make out where turf has been cut from the bog. there’s been quite some destruction to the size of bogs, particularly in the late 20th century. cutting of turf increased in the 1980s and, because they are made up of compressed plant matter, they do not replenish themselves nearly as quickly as they are harvested. if left long enough, and compressed enough, it can turn into coal.

I wish that I could remember some of the figures they had in the visitor’s centre at Connemara National Park, about how much peat the bogs lost in the 20th century, how much of Ireland is covered in peat, and all the other interesting history-of-peat tidbits they had. I went into the visitor’s center after my hike (as I did the trail in reverse of the “normal” direction) and got roped in to take one of many visitor’s surveys about my experience. in any case, if you’re ever in Ireland, then I recommend Connemara. and if you’re ever in Connemara, I recommend the National Park.

Cong

the town of Cong straddles the Counties of Mayo and Galway, and is nestled between the Lough Corrib and Lough Mask. apparently it is known for the underground streams that connect the two, as well as for its fishing. the Abbey, the ruins of which are seen in the first photo, is reputed to be where Rory O’Connor, the last High King of Ireland, died.

nearby, squatting over the river, is the Monk’s Fishing Hut, seen in the second photo. there’s a gap in the floor, through which the monks could drop a net to snag some fish. it was built sometime inte 15th or 16th century.

there’s a stone bridge over the River Cong (just to the right of the hut), and above archways on either end are stone carvings, one of which is of Rory O’Connor.

on the western side of the river is a park with walking trails. very green and not unlike hiking trails you’d find along rivers in the back woods of Wisconsin. there were some interesting natural features, too, like the sink hole in the last picture. it went down about 10 feet, though i decided to keep my pants dry and not investigate. there were also ruins along the path — buildings of various sizes left to the ivy and other elements.