West of Ireland (4): Athenry, The Burren and Ennis

Several Medieval Fortifications, a Huge Limestone Pavement and a Sculpture Trail

Ireland

County Galway

Like Caesar’s Gaul, County Galway has three parts. To the west is Connemara, the land of mountains and bogs and, yesterday at least, semi-perpetual drizzle; in the narrow waist where the county is pinched by Loughh Corrib is the City of Galway itself and to the east, by far the largest part, is a green plain.

Athenry

Athenry is a small town/large village 20km east of Galway. I had not heard of it before Irish rugby crowds took to singing ‘The Fields of Athenry’ and if I had, I would probably have pronounced it stressing the first syllable and with a final ‘-ree’ as in ‘Henry’ instead of evenly stressed Ath-en-rye. The song, written in the 1970s by Pete St John is either a dreary ditty about the Irish Famine or one of those haunting, wistful Irish melodies that once heard cannot be forgotten – or both. Judge for yourself, Paddy Reilly and the Dubliners* sing it on YouTube here.

County Galway, Athenry, Kinvarra - the morning's journey

‘Low lie the fields of Athenry’ the chorus goes, and indeed they do - this is flat lowland farming country, not as picturesque as Connemara, but a much easier place to make a living. And, of course, an influx of tourists makes that living even easier; the song has certainly helped, but Athenry is also a fine place for connoisseurs of old stonework.

It can a grey dour looking place on a dour grey day…

Athernry clustered round St Mary's Church

…but the market square, which is by no means square, has the only market cross still in situ in Ireland, though all that remains is the badly damaged 15th century stump.

The Market Cross, Market Square, Atherny

Most of the 14th century town wall still stands, as do several towers and the North Gate which is busy advertising Galway’s bid to be European City of Culture in 2020.

North Gate, Athenry, The banner is in English on the other side, that's how I know what it says

The Priory of SS Peter and Paul, Athenry

The Priory of SS Peter and Paul is of similar vintage though it is not in good condition. Having limped on after Henry VIII’s Reformation it was finally destroyed by Cromwellian forces in the 1650s.

Priory of SS Peter and Paul, Athenry

Athenry Castle

Most impressive of all, and even older is Athenry’s castle, built by Meyler de Bermingham sometime before 1240. Part of the surrounding wall survives…

Tower and external wall, Athenry Castle

...and the forbidding, almost windowless keep is largely intact.

Keep, Athenry Castle

There is a little decoration on the arch over the doorway, but these places were not built to be welcoming…

Decoration on the door arch, Athenry Castle

…though almost 800 years later possessing an Irish Heritage Card will guarantee that you are greeted by a smiling face. The interior, cleaned up and restored, is much pleasanter, though it must have been cold living here.

Interior, Athenry Castle

Kinvarra

Having zigged east to Athenry, we zagged south west along a series of minor roads to the coast at Kinvarra (sometimes Kinvara).

Approaching the village we passed Dunguaire Castle a sixteenth century tower house and a stronghold of the O’Hynes. The castle had plenty of visitors, but having just come from Athenry Castle we left it for another time.

Dunguaire Castle across the water from Kinvarra dock

We parked by the dock in Kinvarra. It was once a thriving port exporting grain, but the famine of the 1840s all but destroyed the town and it is only in the last decades that the population has edged back above 1,000.

Kinvarra Harbour

Kinvarra has a music festival in May and the Meeting of the Boats in August which features hooker racing. Hooker racing, despite what some readers might imagine, is a respectable pastime; Galway hookers are the traditional red sailed boats of Galway Bay which feature prominently on the county crest - see the top of the page.

I wondered if the Fairy Queen in my picture of Dunguaire Castle was a Galway hooker. After 20 minutes googling I learned that it was originally a Loch Fyne skiff, built 1926 in Fraserburgh, North East Scotland, and now re-rigged as a gaff cutter, making it very like, though not quite, a Galway hooker.

There are words in that paragraph I do not understand, but I pass it on in good faith.

Kinvarra

Kinvarra is a pretty village and we had a stroll and a coffee before driving on into County Clare through Ballyvaughan to Newtown Castle on the edge of the limestone district known as The Burren.

South into County Clare

Newtown Castle

County Clare

Newtown Castle was not easy to find. Leaving the main road we drove through parkland surrounding the Burren College of Art - visitors are welcome though it felt like trespassing.

The castle (or, more properly, tower) was built in the 16th century for the O’Brien clan. There are 3,000 tower houses in Ireland of which only 30 are round and of these only Newtown has a pyramidical base. The tower was fully equipped to defend itself with arrow slits, gun loops and a murder hole – a trap door above the main entrance through which flower petals, animal dung or boiling oil could be dropped, depending on how welcome the visitors were.

Newtown Tower, near Ballyvaughan

The tower was restored in 1993-4 for use by the newly opened Burren College of Art and sits on the edge of the small, somewhat isolated campus. We climbed to the top where a gallery below the impressive new wooden roof provides exhibition space for the students.

The roof, Newtown Tower, near Ballyvaughan

The castle passed to the O’Loghlens; in 1838 it was inhabited by Charles O’Loghlen, 'King of the Burren’, and at the end of the century by Peter O’Loghlen who more modestly styled himself 'Prince of the Burren'. The surrounding 2,800ha was part of the Buckingham Estate until 1848 when it was sold after the spectacular bankruptcy of the splendidly over-named Richard Plantagenet Temple-Nugent-Brydges-Chandos-Grenville, 2nd Duke of Buckingham and Chandos. He has featured in those blog before as the last member of the Temple family, four generations earlier the richest in England, to own Stowe House near Buckingham.

Richard Temple-......Grenville, Portrait by Richard James Lane (filched from Wikipedia)

We returned to Ballyvaughan for lunch – a sandwich and a cup of tea – and thus fortified headed into The Burren.

The Burren

The Burren, from the Irish Boireann meaning ‘great rock’, is a roughly defined area (250-300km²) of karst landscape in the uplands of County Clare. The Burren National Park occupies only a 15km² corner in the south east of the region.

About 60% of it is covered with limestone pavements. It is a landscape I am familiar with from the Yorkshire Dales and limestone country further west, occasional outbreaks in South Wales and from the Pelješac peninsula in Croatia, but the Burren has by far the largest limestone pavements I have ever seen.

Limestone pavements stretching away into the distance, The Burren

Poulnabrone Dolmen

It is poor country for farming, but the earliest inhabitants spotted its value for monumental structures. Some 70 megalithic tombs are dotted about the Burren; we could not find the Gleninsheen Wedge Tomb, but the Poulnabrone Dolmen, 8km from Ballyvaughan is well signed, near the road and has a large car park – with 200,000 visitors annually it needs it!

Poulnabrone Dolmen, The Burren

In 1985, the disassembling of the dolmen to repair a crack in one of the portal stones provided an opportunity for excavations. The remains of 33 individuals and their personal items were discovered, carbon dating suggested they were buried between 3,800 and 3,200BC.

Poulnabrone Dolmen, The Burren

Catherconnel Stone Fort

A kilometre further on is the Caherconnell Stone Fort, one of the best preserved stone ring forts in Ireland. The drystone circle has a diameter of 43m and the walls are 3m thick and 3m high, though loose stones suggest they may have been a metre higher. What surprised us was that despite there being the post holes of a Neolithic dwelling nearby, the ring fort was built in the 10th century and was occupied until the 17th. The Norman invasion never quite reached O’Loghlen country and the people continued living a medieval life into what is normally regarded as early modern times.

Inside Caherconnell Stone Fort

The stone fort hosts archaeological summer schools and while some students were digging just outside the main circle...

Archaelogical workers, Caherconell Stone Fort, The Burren

…. others did the less glamourous sieving and spraying.

The spraying and sieving has to be done, too, Caherconell Stone Fort, The Burren

Ennis

Ennis

We reached Ennis in late afternoon. With just 25,000 inhabitants it is mildly surprising that Ennis is County Clare’s largest population centre by far, but even more surprising, it is Ireland’s 11th biggest city.

Ennis Sculpture Trail

We had a little difficulty finding our way into the centre which retains its medieval road plan and a little more leaving it to reach our B&B. After freshening up and armed with our friendly landlady’s recommendations for dinner we walked back into the centre. Ennis is proud of its sculpture trail and we passed a pensive soldier on the wall of the former barracks….

Soldier outside the barracks, Ennis

…hands outside the cathedral…

Hands outside the Cathedral of SS Peter and Paul, Ennis

…and farm workers on a roundabout.

Farm workers on a roundabout, Ennis

O’Connell Street is narrow but colourful with hanging baskets and painted façades. It terminates in a square where Daniel O’Connell has balanced on top of a Doric column since 1867. The ‘Great Liberator’ who also has a statue in Dublin in the street named after him, was a Dublin MP in the British House of Commons from 1836-41 but before that he had been MP for Clare. I took my picture facing the other way, so you will have to imagine the monument (it looks just like you think it would).

O'Connell Street, Ennis

Brogan’s was ram-packed. Unwilling to wait an hour for a table, we walked up to The Old Ground, an even bigger pub and apparently even more crowded but we were warmly greeted, asked to have a drink at the bar and told a table would be ready in ten minutes. We never believed ‘ten minutes’ but the room was being worked by an expert who knew the state of every table and remembered the faces of those waiting and the order in which they had arrived. It was an impressive performance and if it took thirty, rather than ten minutes it mattered little as we were watching hurling on the television. It is not an easy game for the uninitiated, but is full of breathlessly paced crash bang action.

Once seated, the service was efficient. My pork with black pudding, red onion gravy and spring onion mash was hearty Irish fare, and I was ready for it by then. Lynne enjoyed her quiche and chips.

By the time we had finished, the pressure on tables had eased, a band was playing traditional music and though full of food and Guinness we felt little desire to leave. I have never been a fan of Irish whiskey, but when in Ireland….. A glass of Jameson’s slipped down a treat – my opinion might need reassessing so more research is needed.

28/07/16

We remained in Ennis for the first half of the morning, strolling to the town centre and along the River Fergus until the friary opened at 10.00 – we were determined to turn a profit on our Heritage Cards.

Lynne by the River Fergus, Ennis

Ennis Friary

Ennis Franciscan Friary dates from the 1240s and, like much else locally, was founded by the O’Briens. After the suppression of the monasteries it was put to other uses and is now in part a ruin.

Ennis Friary

The best carvings are in the restored section where the 15th century canopy tomb of the MacMahon clan…

Canopy tomb, Ennis Friary

…and Christ’s Pity, both carved in the hard local limestone, are preserved from the elements. The Christ’s Pity or Ecce Homo shows Christ bound and surrounded by the accoutrements of crucifixion.

Ecce Homo, Ennis Friary

And finally….

Post box, Ennis

…we have seen British-style post boxes all over the world in places where once there was British influence, but this is not ‘British-style’ this is the real thing It still bears the Royal Mail crown and the EviiR logo, dating it to the reign of Edward VII, 1901-10. The once red box has, of course, been sanitised by a coat of green paint.

*You might like to search for the version by Serbian band Orthodox Celts. It is worse than Frank Sinatra’s On the Road to Mandalay, (blog post here) that was the right singer with the wrong song, this is simply wrong.

The West of Ireland

Part 1: Galway

Part 2: Connemara in the Mist and the Rain
Part 3: Loam, Fine Dining in Galway
Part 4: Athenry, The Burren and Ennis
 Part 5: Adare, Listowel and on to Tralee
Part 6: The Dingle Peninsula
Part 7: Killarney to Kenmare
Part 8: Ardfert, Flying-boats and Limerick

West of Ireland (3): Loam, Fine Dining in Galway

A Michelin Starred Restaurant Working Wonders with the Finest Local Ingredients
(and the Problem of Homelessness)

Ireland

County Galway

Our day out in Connemara had been blighted (though not ruined) by the weather, but it was our wedding anniversary - 41st, since you asked - so there was more fun to come.

The Republic of Ireland currently has nine Michelin starred restaurants. Four, including the only two-starred restaurants predictably in Dublin. Two of the remainder are in Galway suggesting the city, despite its well established foodie reputation, is punching above its weight.

Enda McEvoy and Loam

Enda McEvoy studied English and Sociology before making a career in cooking. He travelled widely to gain experience and was poached from Noma in Copenhagen to become head chef at Aniar in Galway where he won a Michelin star in 2013. Aniar maintained that standard even after he left to open his own restaurant, Loam, where he promptly gained Galway’s second Michelin star.

I chose Loam for our wedding anniversary foray into the world of fine dining after studying the web sites and sample menus of both restaurants and then tossing a coin. I certainly did not choose it for its exterior charm; just north of the city centre we walked past the bus station and a building site before finding it in the ground floor of a charmless building apparently unsure whether to be an office block or a shopping mall.

Loam, Galway
The restaurant frontage is the rectangle behind the two decorated pillars

A rough sleeper was bedding down in the covered area outside. I doubt his choice of location was intentional, but it administered a painful kick to the consciences of those arriving for an evening of conspicuous consumption. We probably needed it.

Inside is a spacious wine bar and beyond that, behind a wooden partition the restaurant. Outside it may look tacky but the modern design and light coloured wood make a pleasant interior, though it is unusually brightly lit for a wine bar/restaurant.

Looking at Lynne in the restaurant through the partition from the wine bar

Loam's 7-Course Taster Menu

The menu arrived along with complimentary glasses of sparkling wine - I had casually mentioned it was our anniversary when making the booking. They were generously sized, even more so if the contents were champagne and the quality, acidity and citrusy flavour made it a convincing substitute if it was not actually the real thing.

The ‘simplicity menu,’ three courses with two choices each, was limited but we were tempted by the seven course tasting menu, suspecting (rightly, as it turned out) that the laconic style held hidden surprises. I was particularly attracted by the idea of monkfish liver – I do not recall having eaten it, or any other fish liver before - and coolea, whatever that might be.

The seven course tasting menu, Loam, Galway
The menu changes daily depending on the available ingredients

The amuse bouche, not counted as one of the seven courses, consisted of three small mouthfuls, all packing more flavour per bite than seemed feasible. Pickled kohlrabi, carrot and tarragon in a rice noodle had a lovely Chinese character, the herb parcel to dip in fennel mayonnaise was merely pleasant, but the tiny cheese bun with bacon and onion was a revelation, making us reassess familiar ingredients and flavours.

The courses were small, but there were many of them and by the end we had eaten what my grandmother used to call an ‘elegant sufficiency.’

Hidden treasures appeared with the very first dish. Mackerel, beetroot and fennel was actually smoked mackerel with a dusting of fennel pollen, yellow beetroot carpaccio and fermented beetroot juice. Fermented beetroot juice, just a moistening to hold the dish together, and fennel pollen (I am unsure what that did) were new to me, as was yellow beetroot. The thin yellow slices and fermented juice set off the mackerel superbly.

Each course came with a recommended wine, and for the mackerel it was Empordà, a Catalan white with the Spanish virtue of freshness without a pronounced fruity flavour that would fight with the fish. The region used to be known as Empordà-Costa Brava, but they have dropped ‘Costa Brava,’ not wishing their wine to be considered mere holiday drinking.

The monkfish liver arrived with a tiny roasted onion, peeled baby broad beans (I could not be arsed to peel a broad bean, so if you come to my house...) and a squid ink sauce. I approached the liver with trepidation but it was unnecessary, the texture was hardly liver-y, perhaps closer to roe, and the flavour was subtle, even mild. More punch came from the squid ink, but the effect was still restrained. Presumably locally sourced, these are ingredients that usually get exported, mainly to Spain and this Spanish style dish came with a very French Picpoul de Pinet which I enjoyed, though it is sometimes too acid for my taste.

Coolea with carpaccio of sirloin was a stand-out dish. Raw and bloody, the sirloin was tucked round a small mound of coolea cheese and dusted with powdered ceps - the picture also shows a seed of some kind, though I can't remember what it was. The beef was thinly sliced, tender and full of flavour, the cheese soft and creamy, the combination perfection. Coolea farmhouse cheese has apparently been made in County Cork since 1979, but was new to us. Created by Helene and Dick Willems, the company is now run by their son Dicky and his wife Sinead and continues to win awards as it has from the beginning. Sinead apart, their names do not sound Irish, so it is no surprise that the cheese is made to an old Gouda recipe, though I would not have recognised this soft creaminess as being Gouda.

Sirloin, coolea and mushroom, Loam, Galway, - A carnivore's delight

It was accompanied by a Sangiovese/Montepulciano blend from Marche. A big rugged Italian with bags of sappy Sangiovese flavour and a tug of tannin it was a perfect match.

Carrot, Hazelnut and Whey consisted of goats' cheese whey with slow roast carrot, hazelnuts and nasturtium. The mixture of unexpected ingredients went remarkably well, but the dish was something of a saddle between two meaty peaks. The Alsace Pinot blanc was not entirely successful either, in Alsace they usually get the best out of this often dull grape, but not always.

Lamb, turnip and pea; two perfect pink cylinders of lamb with peas, watercress, parsley and tiny turnips looked a picture and was full of subtle and perfectly melded flavours. Turnip is a rediscovered vegetable (I blame Baldrick) and is worthy of renewed prominence, though the search for new traditional varieties produces some odd results. The wedge of purple turnip had a strangely floury texture and perhaps it should have been left in obscurity. The accompanying Rioja Crianza was good enough, but I would have hoped for a bit more finesse with the meal's centrepiece.

Lamb, turnip and pea, Loam, Galway

Pear, Elderflower, the first of two desserts, was a refreshing, palate-cleansing combination of pear, cucumber, granny smith and lemon verbena with an elderflower sorbet and beetroot coulis. I would normally shudder at the suggestion of cucumber in a dessert, and beetroot coulis is a strange concept, but it all worked magnificently; fresh, acidic and sweet. The ability to see how unexpected ingredients can come together to produce something new, unexpected and delightful is one of the talenst that separates Michelin starred chefs from us normal people.

And finally there was the real desert. Strawberry, Juniper involved strawberry ice cream with shards of juniper meringue, sweet pickled cherry, lovage sponge, coconut butter, white chocolate mousse, white chocolate bonbon, hazelnut crumb and a hint of smoked hay. There were many elements, some very small but all (except the almost undetectable smoked hay) made their contribution and the multitude of textures provided variety beneath the dominant sweetness of any dessert.

Strawberry, Juniper - Loam, Galway

And so finished our dinner at Loam. We might have been tempted by the additional cheese course if anyone had tried to sell it to us, but we were well enough fed without. With our coffee we asked for a brandy, but learned that they had no licence – licensing arrangements are clearly different in Ireland – and perhaps we should be grateful for being saved from over-indulgence.

Chef/proprietor Enda McEvoy is dedicated to local ingredients. The menu sometimes boasts that all ingredients are sourced from the west of Ireland but for our visit it only said ‘most’ – the coconut plantations and cocoa groves of County Clare await global warming. I applaud his attitude; his food and commercial success are rooted in the community and vice versa. It also cuts down the food miles – if you ignore our driving 50 miles, flying 200 and driving another 50 to be there. [In 2009 we stayed in an eco-lodge in the Periyar nature reserve in Kerala which boasted that their restaurant sourced all its ingredients from within a radius of 50km. The sourced their customers from an average distance of 5,000km.]

Lynne rated it the most exciting menu we have encountered. The local climate, though, lacks sunshine so the chef must work with flavours that are subtle, sometimes muted. My preference tends towards the more vivid and sun-drenched so although dazzled by the artistry and invention, I was slightly less enthusiastic.

As we settled the bill and added a tip I found myself thinking again about the rough sleeper outside and decided to give him (‘him’ is based on a shoe, which was all we could see of the individual) the same as the tip, but he was asleep and I felt it unwise to wake him.

In the morning I returned to take the picture at the top of this post. I also photographed the door with the restaurant’s name and found the rough sleeper had now moved right into the doorway. ‘That wasn’t very nice,’ said a voice as I continued on my way, ‘taking a photograph of that poor man.’ The speaker was the young man sitting on a green crate beside the red dustbin in the corner of the photograph at the top. I explained that I had been photographing the restaurant’s name not the rough sleeper, because we had eaten there last night. He apologised and said he had misunderstood, though he did not sound totally convinced. I told him I was glad that he had cared enough to speak out.

He was 100% right to challenge me, and I was 50% right in my justification. I would have photographed the doorway whether the rough sleeper had been there or not, but as it was they were inseparable.

Loam, Galway

I thought hard before deciding to include this photo. The photography in this blog is not art, it exists to record what I saw, and I saw this and if others see it, it may do some good – and the individual cannot be recognised.

How I dealt with my conscience is my business and the links below are not an attempt to persuade you, dear reader, to do it for me, but here they are, anyway.

The Simon Community in Galway do important work with the homeless, as do the 7 other Simon Communities around Ireland (and there is another in London where the charity was founded though it has been far more successful in Ireland)

The Salvation Army, Crisis at Christmas (who now operate throughout the year) and Shelter are important nationally in the UK.

Nearer home are the House of Bread in Stafford and the Newcastle, Staffs, Foodbank

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree(2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)
The Cross, Kenilworth (& Kenilworth Castle) 2024

West of Ireland (2): Connemara in the Mist and the Rain

Visiting a Beautiful and Remote Corner of Ireland's West Coast in the Direst of Weather

Where is Connemara Exactly?

Ireland

County Galway

As Ireland’s second largest county, Galway covers a big chunk of the map and is sliced in two by Lough Corrib, the republic’s largest lake. County Galway’s eastern two thirds is flat farmland, the western third is Connemara where mountains, bogs and a richly indented coastline create a land of legendary beauty.

Connemara, the western third of County Galway

It was our 41st wedding anniversary. Nobody had told the weather gods, but undaunted and weighed down by a full Irish breakfast, we set out to explore. We drove west to Salthill, Galway's beach resort neighbour/suburb. It was not intentional, we were aiming northwest along the N59 to Oughterard, but somehow missed our target. It may have been high summer, but the cool, damp morning rendered Salthill less than appealing.

Aughnanure Castle

Turning north we eventually found the N59. Just before Oughterard we took a minor road past the golf course signposted to Aughnanure Castle. The road petered out with no castle in sight, but there was a car park and a footpath beside a stream. We had not walked far when suddenly the castle was looming above us.

Aughnanure Castle, Lynne, the Tower House, Gatehouse and part of the inner wall

The O’Flaherty’s were Kings of Connemara from the 11th to the 16th century and Aughnanure Castle was one of their strongholds. A well preserved tower house, the guardhouse and parts of the inner and outer walls have survived. Rural clans regarded a little neighbourly cattle raiding as normal procedure and Ireland has over 500 such tower houses where cattle could be corralled within the outer wall when necessary.

The Guardhouse, Aughnnure Castle

A home when all was peaceful and a refuge in times of trouble, Aughnanure, built in the 16th century, was a late example of its type. Defenceless against artillery, tower houses became obsolete only when the armies of Oliver Cromwell introduced cannon to Ireland a hundred years later, by which time the O’Flaherty’s had already lost Aughnanure.

The upper floor inside the tower house, Augnanure Castle

The castle is now owned by Dúchas (Irish Heritage) and we bought Heritage Cards there giving us access to all their sites.

Oughterard and Lough Corrib

Oughterard, a couple of miles up the main road is a small town, but offered several coffee options. We dropped into a pub which at eleven o'clock was not only serving coffee but also breakfast - and not only to tourists.

A side road took us to Lough Corrib, a picturesque expanse of water, though it would have looked better if the weather had cheered up.

Lough Corrib

Leenane and Killary Harbour

But cheering up was the last thing on its mind as we continued along the N59, then turned north through Joyce Country (named for the Norman-Welsh family who settled there in the 13th century, not James Joyce, though he was a descendant). The natural delights of Joyce Country are well documented but we have to take that on trust, we saw little more than mist and drizzle.

Reaching the other part of the N59 loop, we arrived at Leenane at the tip of Killary Harbour, Ireland’s only fjord. We had lunch - a sandwich and a cup of tea - in a café there. 'It's a nice day,' the girl said as I paid the bill. Hearing no sarcasm in her voice, I paused unsure how to reply. She saw my expression and said, 'Well it's not raining,' and, to be fair, at that precise moment it was not. It was a milder day than yesterday, though hardly warm, and perhaps that is all it takes to be a ‘nice day' in these parts.

Me blocking out the view of Killary Harbour from the front, while the mist does the same from behind

A few miles further on, the road veers left and the fjord bends right. Across the water and round the bend the flanks of Mweelrea, the highest mountain in Connaught, drop precipitately into the sea. Not that we saw it, the mountain was sulking in the mist.

On to Clifden

We continued towards Clifden, passing Kylemore Abbey which has been a Benedictine monastery since 1920 but was originally a grand Victorian country house. The abbey and its garden are open to the public, but it was expensive, not covered by our Heritage Card and raining, so no visit and no photographs. Instead here is a picture of some fuchsias. Hedgerows throughout Connemara are alive with wild fuchsias, but these were photographed a couple of days later in Kerry where the weather was more cooperative.

Fuchsia hedgerow, County Kerry

Approaching Clifden, scenic circuits known as 'The Bog Road' and 'The Sky Road' head off towards the coast. On another day we might have explored one or the other, but our appetite for more views of mist and drizzle was limited.

Clifden is by far the largest town in Connemara, which is not saying much, but after crossing miles of scenic nothing (not that we saw it) it looked like a metropolis. Central Connemara is one of the Gaeltachtaí areas where a large enough proportion of the population speak Irish for it to be officially treated as the first language. Clifden, an Anglophone town beyond the Gaeltacht, was a 19th century development and may be a pleasant place, but in the rain nowhere looks its best. The northern and southern branches of the N59 converge here ensuring the narrow streets enjoy a semi-permanent traffic jam. We wanted to leave on the small R341 towards Ballinaboy (Ireland's a great place for connoisseurs of place names) and that involved crossing an endless stream of traffic inching forward with windscreen wipers flapping.

In Search of Alcock and Brown

On the 14th of June 1919 John Alcock and Arthur Brown left Newfoundland in a converted First World War bomber aiming to win a £10,000 prize for being the first to fly the Atlantic in a single hop. Fifteen difficult hours later they sighted Clifden and knew success was theirs. They had hoped to continue towards London, but technical problems required an immediate landing. South of Clifden they thought they had found a smooth field, but these are rare in Connemara and they soon found themselves nose down in what had turned out to be a bog.

A different but very similar Connemara bog

According to the Rough Guide a monument commemorating their achievement stands beside the R341 opposite the remains of Marconi's first transatlantic wireless station - from which they sent news of their triumph.

Driving south we came across a carpark with the names of Alcock, Brown and Marconi prominently displayed. There were some foundations, presumably the wireless station, some information about the adjacent bog and a suggested bog walk, which we declined, seeing the conditions.

Opposite was a minor road and on the corner a sign pointing into the empty field where we expected the monument to be. ‘Perhaps,’ we thought, ‘the sign should point up the lane.’

A signpost pointing into an empty field

Something up that lane required a steady trickle of large lorries to drive down it. Twice in a kilometre we reversed to find somewhere a truck wider than the road could get past.

The Alcock and Brown Monument on top of a dismal, windswept, drizzle-sodden hill,

Persevering to the top of the dismal windswept, drizzle-sodden hill we found a sculpture of Alcock and Brown’s tail-plane, erected in 1959 to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of the flight. According to the plaque it is two kilometres north of the actual landing site. Presumably this spot was picked more for scenic potential than geographical accuracy. The views down either flank of the hill into Clifden Bay would be attractive on a different day.

Clifden Bay from the Alcock and Brown Memorial, A fine view on a better day

Later research has suggested the carpark signs had been misleading. Marconi's station is a kilometre further on and a memorial cairn stands in the field opposite, closer to the landing site, but still quarter of a mile from it.

Alcock and Brown were knighted but having survived flying in WW1 and their trans-Atlantic adventure, their luck began to run out. Sir John Alcock died months later in a flying accident. Sir Arthur Brown had a business career but suffered ill-health and died in 1948 aged 62 having never recovered from the death of his son, a pilot shot down in WW2.

The drive back to Clifden was interesting. At one point we, and a small but ever growing line of vehicles had to back up to allow someone to drive a full sized bus down the country lane - rather them then me, but better not at all. Then we queued patiently through Clifden’s one-way system before starting the 80km journey back to Galway.

Patrick Pearse's Cottage, Rosmuc

On the way we detoured to Rosmuc to see Patrick Pearse's Cottage. We had bought our Heritage Cards and meant to make use of them.

Pearse used the whitewashed thatched cottage as a residence and a summer school in the heart of the Gaeltacht for his Irish language students from Dublin. A large visitor centre is currently being built nearby that looks worryingly out of scale with both the cottage and the village.

Patrick Pearse's cottage, Rosmuc

Pearse was born in Dublin. His father was English, his mother Irish and Irish speaking. He developed a love for her threatened language and worked hard to preserve it, but Pearse was not just a language activist, he was also a nationalist.

Albert Einstein observed that 'nationalism is infantile, mankind's measles.' I agree and feel uncomfortable with nationalism of any hue. The guide - or rather lecturer, you can hardly have a guided tour of a two room cottage – clearly regarded Pearse as something of a hero.

The Irish Home Rule bill passed through the British parliament and became law in September 1914, but further action was suspended for the duration of the Great War. Most Irish independence campaigners accepted this delay, but not all. Arguing that they should strike while the enemy was otherwise occupied Patrick Pearse was among the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising. The rebels sought help from Germany - at a time when 200,000 Irishman were fighting against Germany as volunteers in the British army - but when the weapons they sent were intercepted by the British the rising was first called off and then reinstated. The inevitable confusion meant that it went off at half-cock and when Patrick Pearse read the Proclamation of the Irish Republic on the steps of Dublin Post Office on Easter Monday it was already doomed. Little over a thousand combatants were active in Dublin and planned risings elsewhere petered out before they began.

Lynne in Patrick Pearse's cottage

If the Easter Rising had elements of duplicity and incompetence, the British response plumbed the depths of stupidity. The rising was easily put down, but artillery was used inside Dublin with as much disregard for collateral damage as the Americans in Vietnam (over 50% of the 500 who lost their lives were civilians) and the subsequent round-up of suspects was carefully calibrated not to win hearts and minds. Then, showing a rare talent for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, they court marshalled the instigators, including Patrick Pearse, put them in front of a firing squad and created martyrs and folk heroes while turning their Rising into the stuff of legend.

I have no wish to defend British imperialism, but I do not like nationalism either and when I came across Pearse’s comments on the Great War …

It is patriotism that stirs the people. Belgium defending her soil is heroic, and so is Turkey . . . . . .
It is good for the world that such things should be done. The old heart of the earth needed to be warmed with the red wine of the battlefields.
Such august homage was never before offered to God as this, the homage of millions of lives given gladly for love of country

…I knew he was not my sort of hero.

Lynne in Patrick Pearse's cottage, Rosmuc

We drove back to Galway. Our day out in Connemara had its moments, we saw enough to know that it is beautiful country and the weather did not entirely ruin it, though it tried hard. As wedding anniversary days out go it certainly ranked above 2007, when we spent the whole day waiting for glacially slow bureaucracy to allow us across the Russian/Mongolian border.

In the evening we celebrated at Loam, one of Galway’s two Michelin starred restaurants - and that excellent dinner is the subject of the next post.

The West of Ireland

Part 1: Galway
Part 2: Connemara in the Mist and the Rain
Part 3: Loam, Fine Dining in Galway
Part 4: Athenry, The Burren and Ennis
Part 5: Adare, Listowel and on to Tralee
Part 6: The Dingle Peninsula
Part 7: Killarney to Kenmare
Part 8: Ardfert, Flying-boats and Limerick