NOTHING SO BARREN

 

The Burren, as it is known, is a landscape almost unlike anything else on the planet.  Apparently trees once grew upon the area but these days what smacks you in the eye is rock.  Rock that goes on forever with cracks in it; seemingly barren ground, to those who cannot see, because around 1,100 plant species have been recorded here.  It seems at first glance to be highly improbable but, when your eyes get keener, as they should, then every gap is filled with numerous species; a fern here, a wild strawberry there and, though none were in bloom while we were there, 75% of orchid species.

                                                         Killinaboy

We left Quin in good time but I had to stop at Killinaboy (something I occasionally felt like while raising my sons perhaps) where there is a church with an unusual double barred Cross of Lorraine (no, I’m not making it up to get in her good books) which is set in the 13^th century west gable.  It’s not easily discernible unless you are keen eyed or know what to look for and, though I took three shots of it, the lichen and moss make it difficult to register clearly but it’s something I can’t recall ever coming across before.

Kilfenora crosses

We make our way to Kilfenora, a small nondescript place in the middle of County Clare but there is a key tourist office here.  We arrive about 5 minutes after a busload have walked in and get our information maps then head about 100 metres away for here is one of the key ancient church sites.  The 12^th century ruins, built on the remains of a 6^th century monastery, have more than one interesting piece to view.

                                                               The Doorty Cross

Originally known for its seven crosses, they have diminished in number but even today you can view 3 complete ones, most notably the eye-catching Doorty Cross whose east face bears the figure of a bishop in high relief carrying a volute crozier (spiral hooked staff) representing the Roman Church. Beneath are two more bishops thrusting their croziers into a winged creature below. One is tau shaped representing the Coptic Church and the other signifies the Celtic Church.  You can work that out for yourself, not a lot of love lost between the faiths!

There’s also the Blood monument in the south wall of the chancel, erected by Neptune and Isabella Blood.  Neptune was dean between 1692 and 1716 and this monument commemorates the death of seven of his family and another (only 13 years old and married to his son of the same name!) who all perished between 1683 and 1700.  Only one got past teen years, such was the horrific death rate of the times.

                                                            Leamenah Castle

We backtrack for about 5 kms, turning off at Leamaneh Castle, a significant ruin you feel could be done up.  Though it has lots of history the bulk of the ruin today is 17^th century.  One of Cromwell’s generals, named Ireton, sent a body of five men disguised as sportsmen to assassinate the owner, Conor O’Brien, and one mortally wounded him.  When his body was returned to the property his fiery redheaded wife is reported to have said, “What do I went with a dead body here?”  She then proceeded to marry a Cromwellian soldier in order to keep her lands but is supposed to have pushed him out of a third floor window soon after she had an argument with him.  All told, she supposedly married 25 men but, when she killed her last one they sealed her body in a hollow tree but she is said by some to still haunt the old building even today.

                                                     Portal Tomb at Poulnabrone

However, the main attraction for me is the dolmen, the Poulnabrone (hole of the quern stone) is a portal tomb and it’s one of 178 known in Ireland and certainly one of its most famous.  A massive slap of stone is perched sort of horizontal on some upright pieces.  It’s the fact that it’s thousands of years old and makes you wonder how many people were needed to put the roof on that has me shaking my head.

When excavated in 1986, 16 adults and children were unearthed along with artefacts that dated the tomb to around 3600 B.C.  One of the babies was interred at least a thousand years after the others. It has since become Ireland’s first State-owned megalith.

                                             The Pinnacle Well at Ballyvaughn

As the rain and couple of busloads of tourists made their way towards us, we moved away from the area, on to Ballyvaughan, our first town by the sea on the western shores of Ireland.

From the holiday rental cottages it was obvious that a smattering of tourists called home here from time to time.  The funny thing is, you hit the coast with images of Cliffs of Moher in your mind but this is a relatively flat area, not exposed to the brunt of an Atlantic gale and there’s seaweed all around a rocky shore.

                                                          The Burren

However, just a few kilometres (yes, they use them here) down the road it begins its swing to the south and The Burren is right in its element here, stretching from the ragged shore to the hills behind in an unbroken tale of bleakness that is somehow attractive.  There is a percentage of grass here and the endless stone walls of Ireland indicate that someone finds the area productive in some way but we are shocked a little further on when we alight at a popular spot and note two horses grazing, and I use the term in its broadest sense, on the bits of plant life sticking up from the gutters of rock.

Fanore

The colour of the sky is a perfect foil here, one blending into the other and even the sea offers no respite from grey depressing landscape.  Eventually we stumble onto an unlikely holiday village called Fanore.  It looks like someone has had a handful or two of cottages and scattered them randomly across the area.  Because it’s shoulder season there’s hardly anyone around but we slip down the short road to the beach to see what the fuss is about and, yet again, realise why Australia is so lucky with the beaches it has.

Here the relentless onshore wind plucks at the hair of a keen walker and flexes the strands of hardy grass surrounding improbable wooden fences.  Thoughts of swimming here would be few and far between and the information board that was entirely blank pretty much summed up the environment for me.

                                                                Bridge at Doolin

Eventually we reach Doolin and some semblance of civilization.  There are some people walking around and, though they are few in number, we join them in search of place to eat, though it’s long gone past midday.  We discover McGanns Pub, right beside a six arch stone bridge, and enjoy a seafood chowder, much to Lorraine’s relief, in a typical dimly lit, festooned with signs, Irish pub.

The famous Cliffs of Moher are just over 10 minutes down the road but we are not fated to see them on this day as the foul weather closes in after we leave the pub and a trenchant Lorraine decides we are not going out in that today and I, for one, can’t blame her for that.  Unpleasant seems an inadequate description for what’s going on outside the car weather-wise.  Clouds on the run spitting droplets designed to add to your misery as you try and cover up its relentless pursuit of exposed skin.

Luckily, in respect of times past, the managers give you one day’s leeway so, though we drive away disappointed, tomorrow is a new day (gosh, isn’t that imaginative?).