We Happened to Come Muckross

Moving down to Killarney and County Kerry, and eventually the Ring of Kerry itself, we checked into one of the nicer hotels we've come across in quite some time, the Brehon.  Can't say enough about these digs, for the food and drink (Guinness Stew!), accommodations, and all-around ambience.  Didn't hurt that they had U2 songs piped in through the hotel's speakers, either.  The hotel and spa is located just on the lip of Killarney National Park.

Lots of walking queued up for this stretch of the trip, and the first thing on the docket was a 3+ mile walk to sort-of nearby Muckross House, on the shores of Lough Leane.  Truly a treasure logging the mileage alongside the one you love.

What's a Muckross you ask?  Well this blog is nothing if not educational, so luckily I found out Muckross comes from the word Mucros, which is a “the wood of the pig” and refers to the early practice of pasturing hogs in the woods. So now you know.

Before we got to the aforementioned Muckross House, though, there was a pitstop at the Muckross Friary, located on the expansive grounds of the estate. 

The friary was founded around 1445 by a chap named Donal MacCarthy, and occupied by the Observantine Franciscans, so called because of their observance of rules regarding diet, clothing, and personal property.

The story goes that Donal’s great grandfather Cormac MacCarthy Mor wanted to found an abbey of his own, and it appeared to him in a vision that he should build it at the legendary Carraig na Chiuil, the Rock of Music. He sent men to search for the place, and they were about to return to Cormac having failed to locate the site, when passing by this chunk of Killarney they heard beautiful music coming from a rock, and Cormac founded the abbey there. 

The friars inhabited the grounds until 1652 when they were driven out by the Cromwellians.  Feel free to look up the details of that little conflict.

Hands down one of the coolest features of the friary is undoubtedly the massive yew tree which stands in the center of the structure.

Straight out of Game of Thrones or the Lord of the Rings trilogy horticulture, the tree dominates the center courtyard and is said to be as old as the friary itself.

Looking good for a 600+ year-old tree!

From there, it's on to Muckross House itself!

The 65 room house built in the fashion of Tudor. It was built from 1839 to 1843 but further work was carried out during the 1850’s in preparation for a visit from Queen Victoria herself!  (Those improvements, btw, supposedly contributed to the financial woes of the estate's owners, forcing them to eventually sell it.)  This may explain is why I hate doing home projects in advance of our own annual parties.

Because what's a mansion without some mounted elk heads?

Had to take this pic for Andrew - his idea of a dream library for his home, with books floor to ceiling, and a doorway built right into the bookcase itself

My bride and I are official Lord of Lady of a patch of grass in Aberdeenshire, Scotland, courtesy of our children.  And while we have yet to build a manse upon that postage stamp of land, we could practice for our mansion photos here in the heart of Muckross.

Jack and Sue loved the offerings of one of the multiple kitchens in the home, straight out of Mrs. Patmore's cooking digs at Downton Abbey

The grounds consist of 11,000 acres, and we did our best to try to explore as much of it as we could.

Afterwards, after logging more than six miles of walking just getting to and around the friary and estate, we quickly took one of the horse-drawn buggy drivers up on his offer to get us back to the parking lot in style.

If you're in the neighborhood and have some downtime before embarking into the nearby Ring and national park, take the time to wander through Muckross - a worthy detour and historic spot worth mucking around in!

Storming the Castle

Much like Tyrion Lannister, I drink and I know things.  And this I know: If you're in County Clare, just about 20 minutes outside of Ennis, you have to make sure to drop by the grounds of Bunratty Castle, a 15th century tower house.  The name Bunratty means "mouth of the Ratty River," which references the nearby Owenogarney River which empties into the Shannon Estuary after flowing past the castle and its village.

Channeling Tyrion's father, Tywin, I took a moment to consider all things thrones in the great hall at the castle.

As you can see, Lords and Ladies abound in this castle.

The castle stairwells are not for the faint of heart, broad of shoulder, or wide of foot for that matter.  Not much room to maneuver these staircases!

The site on which Bunratty Castle stands was originally a Viking trading camp established somewhere around 970.

The present iteration of the castle is the last of four castles to be built on the site, and is believed to have been built somewhere around 1425.

Outside the castle proper, there's a small 26 acre village - Bunratty Folk Park - akin to the likes of Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts.  There, tradesman and artisans show off their skills in the working shops and sell their wares in the small shopping village on the castle grounds.

It was here we met Seamus, one of the most charming homelanders in Ireland, who was humble yet proud to show off the work he did as a blacksmith.

And for ye blog readers who have long accused me of being full of hot air, here's photographic proof of me putting it to good use and helping fan the flames.

Seriously - can't say enough about the hospitality and genuine passion this man has for his job.  He exudes his love of blacksmithing, and actually surprised to find these two smithys wanted to take their pic with him.

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Outside the castle grounds proper lies Durty Nelly's pub.  Many readers of this blog have visited said pub themselves over the years, and many of them have left their stickers or police badges on the bulletin boards within.

Nellys was established in 1620, on the banks of the Owengarney River with the Clare Hills behind it.

Here's just a piece of the legend of Durty Nelly:

Almost as famous in Ireland as Molly Malone herself, Durty Nelly holds a special place in the hearts of drinkers from around the world! Today, her namesake pub Durty Nelly’s near Bunratty Castle continues her legacy with the history and character we enjoy so much from Ireland.

“Many many moons ago in the misty past of Cratloe’s rolling country side there lived a buxom lady, tall in stature, but shapely and appealing to all.  She was known simply as Durty Nelly… a name that puzzled all who had the good fortune to be granted her welcome but soon became apparent…

Times were hard in Ireland but one could say that Durty Nelly was wily and always found a way to make ends meet. She was keeper of the toll-bridge over the river Owengarney which flowed outside her window on its way to join the Shannon.

All visitors who sought to cross the bridge would have to pay their dues to Nelly – those who could not pay in cash paid in kind with the presentation of a chicken, a few eggs, a piece of home-cured bacon or even, legend has it, a bit of ‘comfort’ for the lady herself.

Durty Nelly was a woman of considerable charm, known to the virile men of the day, from Galway to Cork, Dublin to Limerick. The highway into and out of the city of Limerick was always open to these … toll or no toll …Durty Nelly’s hospitality to the many travelers coming across the bridge gained her a place in many a man’s fond memories, handed down through the centuries.

Check out the rest of her story for some great Irish folklore!

Feel The Burren

For anyone I've chatted with in recent years, you may (or may not) know that I've become slightly obsessed with Ancestry.com ever since my family bought me a subscription that sent me spiraling down the rabbit hole of archived immigration and census records from the last few hundred years.

In chasing some of the branches of the family tree, Jackie and I have discovered multiple points in Ireland from which our ancestors hailed.  One of the goals of the trip to Ireland for me was being able to set foot on the home fields of at least one of my ancestors.  And while many of the records are nearly impossible to help narrow down specific locations, one of the few pieces of history I've been able to glean was the birthplace of my great-grandmother, Bridget Sullivan, who was born in 1857 in a small village called Darragh just outside of Ennis in County Clare.

I was able to check the box in terms of visiting said village, though truth be told, when Jack and I took a detour to check it out, it was one of those don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it locales.  In fact, the only sign we could find of what remains of the village adorns a gas station.

I actually tried to ponder what would convince a 13-year-old girl to pack up and come to the states, leaving these green fields and roaming meadows behind.  My Aunt Helen reports that Bridget came these ways to take a job as a nanny for a family in Chelmsford, fleeing the famine that was ravaging her homeland at the time.

Whatever the reason, it's lost to time now, but it did provide us with a reason to include Ennis as part of our itinerary on our Ireland trip, and it was fulfilling for a number of reasons.

It also provided me with the opportunity to locate a pub bearing a familiar name.

Right around the corner from our hotel was another pub, Brogan's, which provided the naming inspiration for the Vergados' beloved and loyal canine family member.

On the particular day we were in Ennis, the County Clare hurling team was playing in the Ireland tournament, and the blue and yellow banners were flying everywhere! (I bought one and have it proudly hanging in my work office now.)

Up Clare!

Ennis also served as a homebase for us to wander out a bit and go explore Burren National Park and some of the attractions that speckle that neck of the woods.

It also provided the opportunity for us to see that John's seething resentment of cairn building was alive and well in some of the most remote locations in Ireland

#BuildNoCairns

Say hello to Tuama Poll na Bron, or the Poulnabrone Tomb

The bones of 33 people were discovered here in 1985 - they were dated to somewhere around 5,000+ years ago!

The Tomb is surrounded by these distinct limestone rock formations, which are known as clints - the crevasses between them are called grikes, furrows that form when rainwater dissolves the limestone.  The round holes, or hollows are called kamenitzas, which are also carved out by rain.

So yeah, clints, grikes and kamenitzas - who knew?

We had the plains virtually to ourselves to explore, and it was a moody but fascinating stop

From there we continued up to Ballycahill, outside of  Aillwee Cave

This respite provided some of the most indescribable inland panoramas of the whole trip. 

Nothing but green to see for miles and miles around us

And no one I'd rather hug and embrace in these settings than this lovely lady

We ventured into one of the oldest caves in Ireland, but alas, the subterranean lighting didn't yield itself to quality pics.

It did, however, allow me to channel my inner Gandalf and remind any nearby Balrogs that they could not pass.

Sadly, no Mole Man sightings to be had.
Back in the bright light of day, we wandered over to Cahermore, a stone fort, or caher, built sometime between 500 to 1,170 AD.

It's a national monument that provides views of Galway Bay, Ballyvaughan village and various castles that dot the landscape.

From there we made our way to Ballivaughan Pier for a pint and a relaxing timeout

A truly unforgettable pass through County Clare.  And while I wasn't able to find any cemeteries or historical markings that yielded new scraps of info for the Sadlier branch of my family tree (my mother's grandmother and grandfather), I felt like I was able to at least officially log some steps in the Old Sod on behalf of the Cooks, Kings and O'Neils.

Forever Moher

As you climb on the Cliffs of Moher,

Above shores where power is distilled,

The clock hands seem to stop ticking over

To pause as each hour is filled.

Standing high on the Cliffs of Moher,

You can lose track of trouble and care;

While you sigh, watching brave birds hover,

Reflecting on life as you stare.

- On the Cliffs of Moher, a poem by Benny the Busker

In everyone's lifetimes, you visit a place, or share an experience with loved ones that stays with you for one reason or another.  Sometimes it's nostalgia. many of the places hold sentimental memories, they often provide an escape from the doldrums of everyday life and the grind of the ongoing passage of time.

And every once in a while, it's because you're able to soak in the sights in some of the most beautiful places on the face of the Earth (and doing it with the one you love carries an extra bonus.)

That's the case of the Cliffs of Moher in County Clare, which almost everyone will tell you, is a staple on anyone's trip to the Emerald Isle.

O’Brien’s Tower stands on a headland at the Cliffs of Moher offering up magnificent views south towards Hags Head (our destination) and north towards Doolin. The Tower was built in 1835 by Cornelius O’Brien, a descendant of Brian Boru, the first High King of Ireland. A local landowner, Cornelius was ahead of his time and believed that the development of tourism would benefit the local economy and help bring local people out of poverty.

The tower was used as an observation tower for the hundreds of visitors who even then came to the Cliffs each year to see the breathtaking views. On a clear day, you can see across to the Aran Islands: Inis Oírr, Inis Méain and Inis Mór.  Looking to the left you capture the whole of Liscannor Bay with Lahinch in the distance and Liscannor village in the foreground.  Looking to the right you are met with beautiful views of Galway Bay.

My wife - she LAUGHS in the face of danger

Couldn't resist posing with my namesake transportation mode, though in Ireland it clearly carries a different connotation than it does in the history of America when it comes to law enforcement

So, the walk up to O'Brien's Tower under our belts, we decided to expand the experience exponentially, and venture past those Danger signs to traverse the walkways leading out to Hag's Head, the southerly most point of the cliffs, so named because of a rock formation in the cliffs that resemble a woman's head looking out to sea.

That tiny structure seen in the center of this next frame is the previously photographed O'Brien's Tower.

Here's Jack, following the worn-down footpath, wondering if she should forge her own way atop the grass to her right - the only piece of land separating her from the cliff face and a 700 foot drop to the rocks below.

Quarrying of the local flagstone was a major industry in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. This section of the cliffs was used as a dumping ground for quarry waste, and visitors have since used this to build a collection of cairns.  There are literally thousands of cairns of all shapes and sizes in this detour from the walking path.

Naturally, we had to pause and add our own artistic touch to the Valley of the Cairns.  John, if you're reading, take a deep breath - it's permitted and encouraged here.

We finally made it out to Moher Tower, the stone ruin of an old Napoleonic-era watchtower which stands atop Hag's Head.  

The current tower built in 1808 stands close to the site of a much earlier promontory fort, known as Mothar or Moher. This earlier fortification stood until at least 1780. The earlier fortification was demolished in 1808 to provide material for a new lookout/signaling tower. This "newer" one was built nearby during the Napoleonic Wars (1803–1815), at a time when similar towers were built along Atlantic coasts to counter fears of invasion during Napoleon's reign in Europe.

Amazingly, though, and for the third time in this trip, Scott and I would be thwarted from reaching a lighthouse or castle promontory by accursed chain link fencing.

We really walked all of those cliffs, eh?

Scott and I, adventurers two, ventured a little further past the Tower of Moher to join some other daring explorers who were casting their fates to the formidable winds to explore some paths that descended the cliff side.

This would be about as far as we two would dare, in great part because our more logically-thinking wives were calling to us from atop the cliff, summoning us back to the relative safety of their arms.  Relax ladies - the cliffs are only about 390 feet tall here, although a young college student did sadly fall to her death from here the month before we visited.  Around 70 people have died in falls from these cliffs - both accidentally and intentionally - in the last 25 years.

The cliffs themselves run more than 5 miles along the Atlantic Coast

They take their name from a fort called Mothar, which was demolished during the aforementioned Napoleonic Wars.  The word Mothar, in Old Galeic, means the ruin of a fort.
Singer Dusty Springfield's ashes were scattered her by her family after her death.

Another fun fact: The Cliffs of Moher are featured in the 2009 Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince movie as the backdrop for the entrance to the Horcrux Cave.  They're also the Cliffs of Insanity from the Princess Bride flick.

More than 1 million people visit these cliffs every year, and it's easy to see why.  From the buskers who populate the sanctioned trail and provide a soothing soundtrack to the experience to the solitude found once you venture past the DANGER signs (and still follow the paths), it's an indelible memory that will forever help paint the picture of Ireland memories.

It's hard to believe that my ancestors left these parts to seek a new life in the Massachusetts, considering how breathtakingly beautiful the Irish sea cliffs are. and knowing what awaited her in Lowell during the birthyears of the Industrial Revolution.  But hey, if my great-grandmother Bridget Sullivan hadn't packed up and left the nearby village Darragh over 150 years ago, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this blog.

And for that, I'll be thankful Forever Moher.