FAB FEBRUARY 2021
Table of Contents
#FabFebruary
Day 25 Sunrise, Sunset
Marge, my friend, I haven’t learned a thing.
After tempting fate by talking about the weather improving, only to be deluged, I’m now going to tempt fate again.
Something special happened today. I awoke a few minutes before my alarm. There was something strange yet familiar. A chink of light in the sky. For the first in months (in Covid terms 27.5 years) I was waking up to the sunrise rather than a chirping alarm.
Sunrise and sunset are very important in Irish mythology. Not just with mystic monuments like Newgrange, they were part of the customs and superstitions of ordinary folk too.
Before sunrise in May, go out in the garden and find a snail. Pop on a plate of flour and cover with a cabbage leaf. Leave till after sunrise. Lo and behold your future hubby’s initials will be in the flour. If the snail is mostly in its shell, your beau will be rich. Mostly out, not so much.
On the 1st of May. wash your hands in the dew before sunrise. You’ll be able to undo any knot for a full year. Take that Velcro.
For the type who hits the snooze button, remember -Má chailleann tú uair ar maidin beidh tú á tóraíocht i rith an lae – if you lose an hour in the morning, you’ll be chasing it all day.
If you are going to speak Irish though be accurate.
Looking forward to the “fáir” is looking forward to a sunset – “fair” however is a wake. As @theirishfor says a fada (the accent over the vowel) is important.
Although many a wake has been looked forward to.
We all know a red sunset means good weather, but did you know to throw dish water or ashes out after sunset will bring bad luck?
In fact, in ancient Ireland the day began at sunset. This is a tremendous idea that we should re-adopt. Don’t get me wrong, we shouldn’t throw out our clocks and calendars out just yet. Its more about using the tradition to be a bit easier on yourself.
Had a good day, stick to the normal time. Had a bad day? I’m a Celt, its sunset, lets write that day off, new day starts here with a clean slate.
Hope you enjoy these sunrises and sunsets from our archives.
And if you don’t? Never mind, we’ll start again tomorrow.
See? Totally works
#studyabroadireland #bundoran #sunset #sunrise
#FabFebruary
Day 24 Jarveys Point
The joy of doing this for the past month is that I have seen new places all over my adopted hometown. Even with our current restrictions, this area has loads of lanes, boreens and rabbit paths leading to all sorts of hidden quirks or unexpected vistas.
My trick is using my map to pinpoint a little road or track I have never noticed. Then headphones on and I pootle along to discover what adventures are to be found. It has led to some of my favourite sights, whether a statue in a field or just a different angle on the county I have looked at for many years but perhaps never really seen before lockdown.
The downside is sometime oblivious to the world, you plough straight into someone’s front yard. Usually, I notice in advance and turnaround but many a Donegal county land turns into someone’s driveway with no perceptible change. Today was one of those days.
Before I knew it, I was in a courtyard of an impressive farmhouse surrounded by barking dogs and several malevolent looking poultry. Realising my mistake, I did an about turn, which apparently just made me even more suspicious to the family who now converged on me. To be fair once I explained myself, they couldn’t have been nicer. Still I left feeling a little abashed. I mean what was it about me that was so suspect?
Then I had a glance in the mirror. At what point during the lockdowns did I go from ordering all the designer gear to use this opportunity to get fit to being the “if its good enough for the dog to sleep on, it’ll keep me warm while walking” type? Now this is not to criticise anyone sartorially or look down on others who have less. Its more a tribute to how I much I miss my housemate who had to move home during lockdown.
She used to give me the look that said are “you really wearing that?” that all men of a certain age need.
All though it did bring to mind a favourite Bundoran story
Many of you will know Finner camp, the barracks just outside of town. Previous to independence, it was a British army camp. Local coachmen (jarveys) used to do good business driving the military bigwigs into town. One of these Pat Campbell was driving British officers to town. Passing a poor looking woman, Pat said ‘God, she’s had a tough life’ and passed her a shilling. The posh British officers were not going to be outdone by the generosity of this lowly Irish driver, so dug deep and gave generously.
Returning home that night Pat saw the very same woman sitting in his house. He said to her “well wife, didn’t we do well there”
#FabFebruary
Day 23 In Rainbows
In the words of the great philosopher Bugs Bunny – what a maroon. I mean its not like its my first rodeo. How did I not know writing about Spring and the good weather has come, would herald an onslaught of wind and rain the next day. It is wild here this morning.
And of course, it is. ‘Faoillidh’, is an old name for the start of February and can be substituted as a phrase for bad weather. Yes, I did tell you it was also the start of spring and that you should all be optimistic. I’m sticking to that; I just didn’t say it would be plain sailing.
‘Ní hé lá na báistí lá na bpáistí’ is an Irish saying. It means a day of rain is not a day for children. After a year of lockdown, I reckon they can handle it. Besides ever see a toddle jump into a puddle. Best fun ever. I fully accept being the person in charge of said toddler may be less fun.
The Irish language is a great way to understand our relationship with the weather.
‘Aiteall’ means a nice spell of weather between two rain showers.
‘Dallsíon’ blind weather – weather so bad you can’t see.
‘Samhsaí’ a person who works outside no matter what the weather
‘Spútrach’ splashing rain or the squelchy rain sodden ground. Its very onomatopoeic so if you want to pronounce it just imagine that sound.
‘Ag cur foirc agus sceana’ equivalent of it’s raining cats and dogs. Literally raining knives and forks.
‘Ribeanta’ bitingly cold weather but can also be used for bitingly sardonic comments.
‘Neamhfhuar’ someone not brought down by the cold weather.
Alternatively, ‘Aimliú’ means ruined by bad weather.
One of my favourites is ‘báisteach leatromach’. It means local rain but per the Irish times, this actually means the sort of rain meant for someone else but deflected onto you by their golf umbrella. You know the type.
If you like this sort of thing I would highly recommend following the @theirishfor on twitter or their excellent book. Motherfoclóir. Foclóir means dictionary in Irish but it is also exactly the pun you are thinking of.
The final word for today is ‘fadadh-cruaidh’ which is part of a rainbow seen through blustery weather. It suits today’s walk which is all the places we like to go after a day like this. Because I don’t think Ireland is ever more beautiful than after a storm.
And ain’t that something we need to hear in 2021.
#studyabroadireland #weather #irish
#FabFebruary
Day 22 Ready for my closeup
Hello again from Donegal where it feels like spring has most definitely sprung. The sun is shining, birds are singing, the wind is fresh rather than biting and surf is up. Of course, not everyone surfs in Bundoran, but when the surf is good, the whole town seems to have a bit of a lift. There just seems to be a nicer atmosphere as people go about their business. I think there’s many people who wouldn’t dream of squeezing into a wetsuit, that still get a kick watching the distant figures bob about on the Atlantic rollers.
A trip to the seaside sounded pretty good after the morning I’d had. Most of my fellow students studying remotely refuse to put on their cameras. To be honest being younger most of them don’t even talk, they just use the chat. Me, I don’t mind. I understand how it must be difficult for the lecturer speaking into the void. I’m happy to show my face in my little corner of the screen. Well, I was.
Today, for some reason, my big shiny head was shared as the main screen instead of the lecturer’s desktop. Worse still because I was “multi-tasking” I didn’t notice for about ten minutes while the rest of the class watched me read the football news and doodle. You can see why an anonymous Atlantic stroll appeals.
While the bay and the beach were busy with surfers I went to a quieter spot. Just beyond the outskirts of town, there is a windy country path that leads down to the rocky shore. This is another excellent surf spot but only on a low tide. It was still high tide, so it was just me, a couple of horses and several donkeys watching the breakers roll in. If they had seen my webcam fail, they were kind enough not to mention it.
#studyabroadireland #bundoran #shinyhead #surf #instituteofstudyabroad
Day 21 N17
Slight change of tack today. Full disclosure, I’m writing this one in a few hours in advance as Saturday is my birthday and my plans involve several large cans of Guinness. But when it is published it will no longer be my birthday a I may be in need something different, heartfelt (and not too loud.)
One of the joys of working with international groups is the differences. Not the big differences, we all know those, it is the little differences that are fun. The jam / jelly, trunk / boot, chips / crisps / fries confusions. Explaining that you should call it a bum-bag instead and making clear to Australians that we do not call flip-flops that.
One of the big differences is music. Irish Americans were always portrayed as getting misty-eyed at Danny Boy. It was the sentimental anthem of the home country generations of Irish emigrants. Growing up, the Irish Americans on tv or in the movies would always sob quietly at the tune.
And while it would be wrong to say the song isn’t liked at all here, I think most people born Ireland reaction is pretty much “meh”.
However, go into a bar in Boston, that’s full of Irish born emigrants. Put N17 by the Saw doctors on the jukebox. Within minutes, the throng will have turned into a blubbering mass.
The Saw Doctors are a very popular band from Tuam, Co. Galway. First dismissed as music for culchies (people from outside Dublin) by idiots like me, they have been hugely successful. The song in question “The N17” has become an anthem of emigration here in Ireland. The song is the lament of an Irish emigrant who wished he was on the N17 with “its stone walls and the grasses green”. The N17 is the road that connects Galway to Sligo through their hometown of Tuam.
But no matter where you were from, what genre of music you liked, this song hits Irish people right in the feels. A grunge loving friend of mine living in New Jersey in the 1990s, told me of being at an Irish festival where the Saw Doctors were playing. She described the bemusement of all the Irish Americans, as her and her friends sobbed along to the chorus.
Already established as a stone cold classic, the song had a new lease of life this summer. As part of the New Years celebrations. Irish singer Tolu Makay teamed up with the RTÉ concert orchestra for a beautiful slowdown cover. This song of emigration seemed particularly poignant in this time of COVID-19. In a time when so many more families were separated by circumstance beyond their control. It wasn’t just about wishing to be back home anymore. It was about the fear of loss, of moments missed. Of the worry expressed in the song that things will be
“be changed or gone
By the time I get home again”
Especially as the video had messages from Irish people throughout the world, unable to get home to celebrate with their families.
Twitter exploded with love for it from home and abroad. Famous chat show host Graham Norton said, “this has reduced me to a sobbing mess. Huge congratulations to everyone involved in putting it together!”
Comedian Dara Ó Brian “Well this is just very beautiful. Well done to all involved. Very much one for the Irish and Irish abroad, this”
It shot straight to number one & despite being sad, it has become a hopeful anthem. Of times to come. And I hope despite being that most Irish of songs, that you like it too. Because whether it is the road home or hugging your grandchildren, we all have a N17 we are longing for.
#FabFebruary
Day 20 Saturday Spotlight 3 Unique Ascent
Let’s travel a little further North for this Saturday spotlight. In this case the amazing photography is just a by-product of the astounding activities that these folks get up to. Unique ascent is the brainchild of our friend Iain Miller. Iain is a rock climber, guidebook author and hill walker based in God’s own country North Donegal.
I think Iain is summed up by his bio, that he spends his time “working and playing on the sea cliffs, sea stacks, mountain ranges and uninhabited islands of County Donegal” Deadly serious about the work and safety. But wanting to share the joy and fun – the craic – of climbing and hiking. He wants to bust the myths that these are elite activities only open to a select few. He offers all sorts of experiences from those for the experienced climbers to those who just want a truly memorable experience. Their own unique ascent.
He also has an amazing eye for a photo. Mountain tops and sunsets may be his speciality. I love his shots of the Sea-stacks around the coast. Often, after being slack jawed at the beauty of the Donegal wild Atlantic shore, I zoom in on some of the images and finally notice the tiny figures on top. It has been a great source of virtual adrenaline rushes for me during lockdown.
Like us all, Iain is busy making plans for when we can travel again. But until then, I highly recommend following him on Facebook, Instagram or YouTube to join in the fun. And when we can travel again, we definitely deserve to treat ourselves. An adventure with Iain might be just the ticket.
Maybe you’ll find your own unique ascent
#FabFebruary
Day 19 Friday Faux pas
I owe you an apology. Yesterday I came here to help you avoid an awkward social situation if St Brigid calls in. We feel its part of our duty of care. But I got distracted. It’s possible that the only thing more Irish than talking about the weather, is meaning to talk about something else but forgetting because you are talking about the weather.
So, come with us again to Lough Melvin which straddles the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic. But despite all the talk about Brexit and sea borders, you won’t need your passport today. We’ll stay on the Leitrim side.
Having worked in tourism for many years, I was a little sceptical when I first heard about the lake. Sure, its gobsmackingly pretty but a world class fishing spot full of fish unique to Lough Melvin? Locals always think theirs is best and are not averse to pulling the wool over the city boys’ eyes. I looked it up. And absolutely they were telling the truth.
The lake is home to Salmon, Char, Perch and Grilse in great numbers but it’s the three unique species of trout that really make it stand out. The Sonaghan, Ferox & Gillaroo Trout are endemic to Lough Melvin.
It is the last one we want to talk about. Gillaroo gets its name from its distinctive red markings. Giolla Rua means red fella. (Rua also where the name Rory comes from) They are different from brown trout found anywhere else. They feed almost exclusively on bottom living animals like freshwater prawns and snails. I am sure they’d call them escargot. Unlike most other fish they have a birdlike gizzard. This helps them digest hard foods such as snails.
Ichthyologists are at a loss to explain why the Gillaroo is unique, but as usual Irish folklore has you covered. One Friday St Brigid was strolling through Garrison and decided to stop for some food. She was offered some chicken. Outraged to be offered meat on a Friday, Brigid erupted and threw the whole bird in the the lake. It promptly turned into a fish and swam away. Hence the gillaroo and its gizzard.
So, todays advice from your friends in Ireland. Make sure you always have a prawn cocktail, or a packet of fish sticks in the freezer. You never know when a serene looking medieval woman might come knocking. #loughmelvin #studyabroadireland #loughmelvin
Day 18 Weather times are good or bad
There are lies, damn lies and weather apps. That’s probably unfair. They surely work just fine if you live somewhere with sensible weather. Here, where weather systems have travelled over thousands of miles to be hit with the land and mountains, not so much.
But as usual I forgot this. My weather app told me there would be a break in the current gloomy weather in the early hours of today. I jumped straight out of bed (some poetic licence may be being taken here) and dashed off to the highlands over Lough Melvin.
I though this would be a good destination today, with its spectacular views, gushing streams and snow topped hills. And in many ways, it was. The climb up the crest of the hill was as breath-taking as ever (metaphorically and literally, it is very steep.) The scenery is beautiful if very bleak. Lots of leafless tress and windswept moors. I found watching the storm come in over the lake is dramatic and strangely moving. Moving that is, until you realise it is moving directly towards you.
Don’t get me wrong, dear reader, I was appropriately dressed, not in any danger. But I was starting to really regret my decision to stand on top of a mountain in February. It was one of those uniquely Irish days where no matter which way you turn the wind, and the rain is travelling directly at your face. Horizontally.
Great photographers like those highlighted on our Saturday spotlight slot, would be able to use this to get an evocative shot for you. Muggins here with a phone and a bobble hat, not so much. Still just as I was about to abandon the mission a miracle
“All at once,
The clouds are parted
Light streams down
In bright unbroken beams”
I am aware if this was Niamh, she’d have a brilliant quote from Heaney, or post something beautiful from Paula Meehan here. Maybe Kavanagh to sum up this quasi-spiritual moment. Me? Canadian rock trio Rush was all I had. Potato Potahto.
Still, it was lovely. As mentioned before, phones do not do it justice, but I hope you get a feel for the beauty of the place. Perhaps the weather app was right after all….
It wasn’t. The rain closed in again. I got absolutely drenched! I’m considering immersing both myself and my phone in a big bowl of rice.
Still, totally worth it.
#studyabroadireland #loughmelvin #donegal #fabfebruary
#FabFebruary
Day 17 Nice trip
Today we find ourselves in the townland of Derrinloughan
It’s an excellent place for an afternoon stroll. You can park at the crossroads and there is a 2/3-mile loop you can walk in all four directions. Meaning you can go four days in a row and not repeat the same route. Legend has it, this was once the home of three robbers who lived on island in a small lake here. This was their base from which they marauded throughout the countryside. Supposedly they buried their treasure here and it was never discovered. Although if I know the people of Bundoran, if it was to be found it would have been found. There are some pretty nice houses here…
As I said I’m a regular here, it’s one of my favourites. And I’ve never seen, let alone been accosted by a bandit trio here. In fact, aside from the odd passing tractor and the onlooking livestock one of the reasons I like it, is its peacefulness. I can put on my headphones and amble away in happy solitude.
Today however I was joined by a Day-Glo jogger, who seemed to be lapping me with increasing determination. Perhaps he was just trying to give me back my space, but he did up his velocity to sprint past me each time. Or maybe I was just getting slower.
Aside from the mild feelings of inadequacy, it made me wonder what’s the etiquette the third time they pass you? Do you still say hello? Acknowledge them with a nod or do you just ignore? It’s a minefield.
I think next time I’ll just accidentally trip him. That’ll give us something to talk about. 😉
#studyabroadireland #donegal #instituteofstudyabroadireland #joggers #treasure
#FabFebruary
Day 16 Flippin’ Heck
Today we are going to throw back to a trip to the Skelligs. Because I have pancakes on my mind. Don’t worry the link will make sense in a bit.
Today is pancake Tuesday. You might know it as Shrove Tuesday or Fat Tuesday. Growing up in Ireland in the 70s and 80s pancakes were not the ubiquitous treat they are now. In my memory, we only had them once a year, on the day itself. We were strictly a lemon and sugar household. I remember the anticipation as mum bought the lemon juice the week before. It was always jif lemon, in a dispenser the shape of a lemon. It didn’t count if it wasn’t in a lemon shaped container. Ironically, I would have rejected fresh lemon juice for the same reason. But it was so exciting.
Which brings me to my dilemma. Due to That Thing, this is the first Pancake Tuesday I have lived alone. And I have never made pancakes. How hard can it be? I had a bit of a look online. Rather than finding recipes, I soon found myself distracted and ended up down a rabbit hole of Irish lore.
I knew that Pancake Tuesday came from using up all the eggs and other “luxury” foods before Lent begins. I also was aware of the tradition of girls being given the afternoon off to prepare the batter. Somewhere in the back of my brain, there was the custom that the eldest unmarried girl got to toss the first pancake. If it was successful, she would be married within the year. What I didn’t know was the tradition of dressing up and haranguing the single people in your village!
Roman Catholics didn’t get married on feast days or Lent. Customarily, therefore, there was a spate of weddings leading up to Pancake Tuesday. Those who had not partnered up by then, were considered fair game for mockery. Young people were spared but bachelors and spinsters were in the crosshairs. Chalk Sunday was the first Sunday after Lent. Singletons would have chalk put on their back to mark them out. On the Monday, they would have salt thrown on them to preserve them for another year.
In parts the South, the night of Pancake Tuesday was known as Skellig night. People would dress up in disguise and try and get the single people to leave their house. The singletons would then be harangued and told to go to the Skelligs. This was because the Skellig islands kept to the old calendar and it was not yet Lent there. So, they still had a chance to get married there.
Reading this was a revelation. Some of you will know Skellig Michael was one of the settings for Luke Skywalker’s hermetic existence in The Last Jedi. Have we not heard the real story? It was implied that Luke went into exile tormented by his failing as a teacher to Ben Solo. But was he, in fact, just avoiding mean Kerry people? Is that why he reacted so badly to Rey? Did he think she was one of the Healey-Rae’s? And most importantly do you think you can make a decent pancake out of that manky green milk?
#studyabroadireland #starwars #donegalwalks #leitrim
Day 15 Snow Business
You’ve guessed it. By the time I got ready the gritters had been out, the thaw had begun and the snow was on its way out. I hope you’ll agree it was still pretty but not exactly the artic wonderland I anticipated. The Guinness looked a little flat. Like the sort of pint you’d get served in London – never in FiftyOne of course.
. I was a bit disheartened. Then I saw a photo by my friend Val
. It was of statue in the gorgeous village of Coolaney. It shook any world-weariness off me, and I hope it does the same for you.
#FabFebruary
Day 14 Virtual Valentine
I won’t lie to you; I was tempted to make this a love heart free zone today. However, having woken up to rainy skies and gale force winds, maybe today is a nice day for a virtual valentine walk with all you lovely people.
We could go to Whitefriar street in Dublin to the shrine of St Valentine, one of the many alleged resting places of the Saint’s relics. But bones don’t really do it for me. We could stroll through Claddagh the area in Galway where the river Corrib meets the bay and gave its name to that most romantic of rings. Hey if it’s good enough for Buffy, it’s good enough for me. How about heading south to Lough Ouler in Wicklow, Ireland’s heart shaped lake.
Instead let’s stay a little closer to home. Many of you who have visited us before may have heard us talk about the legend of Diarmuid and Gráinne.
Gráinne is the daughter of the high king and is considered a suitable match for the aging Fionn mac Cumhaill. Fionn is an Irish hero and leader of the legendary band of Irish warriors, the Fianna. However, in this tale, Fionn is somewhat less than heroic. Gráinne is distressed to find that Fionn is older than her father and instead is much more enamoured with his right-hand man Diarmuid. Diarmuid was a skilled warrior and beloved member of the Fianna. He also was famous for his beauty and particularly his “love-spot” that made him irresistible to the ladies.
They fall for each other and elope much to the chagrin of Fionn. This tale is told in “Tóraíocht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne” or the pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne. There are many versions of the story as the travel all over Ireland and Scotland chased by the jilted Fionn. They could never stay anywhere for more than one night, so the Irish countryside is littered with they supposedly sheltered. These are known as Diarmuid’s and Gráinne’s beds.
One of the most famous is the cave at Gleniff horseshoe, just a few miles away from us here. There is also the Carrickglass Dolmen in Sligo. Both are a little beyond my range today but fortunately Niamh visited both recently, so we can take a little virtual trip.
If you come visit us in real life Niamh will tell you the full epic story (Spoiler alert, its an Irish story, they only tend to end one way) and how that sort of story telling has shaped Irish literature. If I’m your host, I’ll probably get you to re-enact being a magical pig. Both approaches are valid.
Day 13 Saturday Spotlight 2: Megan
Saturday is the day I have a lie-in and we turn the page over to someone really talented.
Today it is our friend Megan Gallagher. Megan is a local photographer and tutor whose work we really enjoy. She works in a variety of formats but here for this page we picked some of our outdoor favourites. Although we couldn’t resist at least one of her portraits of Bundoran’s own Jiu Jitsu Queen.
“When COVID and the first lockdown began, I started teaching photography classes online as well as posting tips and tricks via Instagram stories. I would have seen myself more of a portraiture photographer, having worked with many magazines, models and independent clothing companies like All Things Fiona Lily. However, I really enjoyed getting out into nature during lockdown. Recently, all the photographs that I have taken have been ‘the everyday’ scenes I would have come across around Bundoran itself.
I feel I have really gotten in sync with the towns emotive, interesting landscape. With my imagery I tried to showcase Bundoran in a different visual way than the traditional photographs you would see of the town. I hope you enjoy”
You can find Megan’s work on Facebook and Instagram where there is information about classes, prints and all the other things she does. Give her a follow if you like brilliant people.
Ps Facebook can be funny about pages tagging people so if the links don’t work I’ll also tag in some of Megan’s links in the comments with my own account.
FabFebruary
Day 12 Green-eyed Monster
Today is the feast day of St Julian the Hospitaller, the patron saint of murders and bearded ladies. There is probably a walk somewhere that would perfectly encompass both things, but perhaps not within my designated lockdown area.
Instead come with me to the jealous valley. Glenade is a beautiful, glaciated valley stretching between Kinlough and Manorhamilton. This morning, the light frosting on the hills beside Eagles rock sparkled in the spring sunshine. Unfortunately, the corrie and its surrounds are beyond the boundary today, but I hope you get an idea of how lovely they look from my long-range photos.
I was happy to stick to the lowlands as it is sunny but a bitterly cold day. To be honest, I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself, thinking that feeling the chill was just another downside of middle age, when I heard some bleating. There, almost camouflaged, in the trees on lee side of the mountain, was a group of sheep sheltering from the cold. Not only are they almost certainly younger, they also have much more expensive coats than me too. Maybe I’m not so bad after all.
Glenade or Ghleann Éada in Irish does literally translate as the glen of jealousy. There are many many stories of how it got its name. One story tells of woman who was jealous of her husband. She decided she had enough of him, so she boiled the flesh of a poisonous reptile she found in the lake. As he lay dying, she became remorseful and confessed to him. He explained to her that if she sat naked on a stone in the valley for hours, he would recover. She did so and and promptly died. He recovered and married again and lived happily ever afterwards to spite her. Guess there is a reason Disney hasn’t done a lot of Irish tales.
The moral of that story may be open to interpretation, but hopefully it might prove an antidote to any fellow singletons out there feeling the pressure on the eve of St Valentines. The rest of you can take it as a nice reminder to dress appropriately when you visit.
As to whether it is how Glenade got its name, I’m not so sure. I also realise that technically the story may not even have a murderer, let alone a bearded lady. But given the five-kilometre limitation, I hope you and St Julian will agree it’s a decent effort.
#studyabroadireland #glenade #donegal #bundoran #instituteofstudyabroadireland
#FabFebruary
Day 11 Lost in Leitrim
As you can imagine each of these trips and posts are meticulously scheduled…..when Niamh does it. With me it is a little bit more, “free form”.
Today was no exception. Looking at my 5-kilometre map, I noticed a series of paths down to the lake that I hadn’t noticed before. They might be fun to explore I thought, so I headed off to have a look.
Just before I reached my destination, I noticed a heavily laden tractor heading towards me on the narrow lake road. Not fancying the squeeze past, I nipped into a little side road. Needless to say, that was also the tractors destination. So now, on an even narrower road, I had no choice but to travel about two miles up the mountain to before I could find somewhere to let him past.
But what a happy accident. I found myself right beside the mountain ridge with stunning vistas of the lake. Apparently, this route is very popular with cyclists. This is no surprise with its snaking ascent of the mountain and the freewheeling drop into the valley below. But today there was no lycra on view, just me and some nonchalant sheep.
It was a glorious place for a stroll. Beautiful vistas in the low spring sunshine. The highlight was being able to clamber up on the ridge to see a small frozen waterfall. The only disappointment was that my calorie counting pedometer didn’t seem to take into account just how steep and it was and, more importantly, how smug I was that my foolishness had led us here.
I feel this is very unfair. Surely there must be a gap in the market for an app that gives you extra points for going for walk even though you are feeling grumpy and lazy. Or a bonus for jogging despite the fact there is a really good episode of the repair shop on. (Google it if you don’t know, feel good tv at its best)
There was so much to see, I will definitely be back to visit. This time intentionally.
For anyone wondering where Niamh is https://www.facebook.com/donate/190779216067416/869196643934715/
#studyabroadireland #cycleroutes #moutains #ireland #instituteofstudyabroadireland #findmyireland
#FabFebruary
Day 10 A moo with a view
One of the Irish (Gaelic) phrases children learn in school is “Ní raibh scamall sa spéir”. It turns up in elementary school essays. It means “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky”. Growing up in Ireland, I feel I used it more in fictional school assignments than in real life. But this frosty February morning is just such an occasion.
So much so I abandoned my plans to do a little pre-class study and instead headed straight for the shore. On the off chance my lecturer sees this, I would say as exciting as the world of financial accounting is, when in Donegal if there are no scammalls in the spéir, it’s time to put down the books.
I returned to Tullaghan. Not far from the statue we talked about, is St Patricks church. This modest but lovely church dates from around 1930. As you can see from its sign it now rotates it services with other churches around the parish, surely a sign of the times. However, it was not the church I had in mind rather the coast around it, with stunning views of Tynte Lodge.
This Georgian house has walled gardens and enclosures with castellated stone folly towers, overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. Some of you may have seen it in Darragh’s amazing photo on Saturday. It was built circa 1750 by Anglo Irish nobility who were based in the South of the country. Its now in private ownership having been sold in just 2015.
The coast around it has some of the most fantastic surf. However, access is limited as much land around it is used for farming and there have been issues with people being negligent when crossing. I know the internet isn’t traditionally a place for nuance, but I can certainly see both sides here. The local community are working on it and I am sure a happy respectful solution can be found. For now, though I wanted to be observant and kept my distance. I hope my phones limited zoom gives you a sense of the beauty of this coast.
I was certainly entranced by it, watching the swans shelter from the surf. Which meant I was quite startled when I turned around and noticed I had attracted some spectators. I nearly had a cow, man.
#studyabroadireland #tyntelodge #leitrim #cows #coastline #donegal
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Day 8 Outstanding in his field
Back to the coastline today. Leitrim may have the shortest shoreline of Ireland’s coastal counties, but pound for pound it has to be one of the best. 4 miles of spectacular surf and craggy outcrops overlooked by the Dartry mountains.
But today I want to take you to visit a holy well frequented by St Patrick. His was a thirsty fellow, St Patrick, as a quick google of the phrase “St Patricks well” will show you.
Ireland has over 3,000 holy well sites, many of which were sacred sites predating Christianity. Most of these sites were since “converted” to be associated with Christian saints. This particular well is just outside Tullaghan village and requires a little cross-country amble. (Thankfully, I remembered my boots today although while navigating a tricky spot I dropped one of my earbuds ☹)
Just over the crest of the hill is the well itself, adorned with St Patrick looking considerably warmer than I was, in his nice case overlooking the landscape.
There are many stories associated with the well. Among them is that Patrick liked to shave here, giving credence to the belief that Patrick was of roman stock. They liked to be clean shaven while the local celts were more inclined to the hirsute barista look.
But the most famous tale of his visits is a tale of two rivers, the Duff and the Drowes.
While crossing the Duff, Patrick saw some men fishing on for salmon. He was hungry so he asked them if he could have some. ‘They’re scarce today,’ said the men. ‘May they always be so,’ replied a disgruntled Patrick. That finished the fishing there for a long time.
Before long Patrick came to the River Drowes and found more fishermen. They were more generous and gave the hungry saint a fish. He was grateful. Blessing the river, he said: “May the Drowes never be without a salmon.”
To this day it remains a bountiful fishing spot and, in the pictures below is Drowes Salmon Fisheries snap of the first Salmon caught this year. (All done within COVID regulations of course) The well is associated with various healing properties providing cures for warts, toothaches and sick animals among many other things.
I don’t know about that, but I can tell you after paying my respects, I returned to the car windswept but happy and what was lying in the grass waiting for me? Only my missing ear bud. Take that Dawkins.
#studyaboradireland #stpatrickswell #leitrim #tullaghan #Irishlegends
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Day 7 If you go down to the woods
Just a short trip today. Whether it’s due to it being Sunday or an aftermath of a zoom reunion featuring people in San Francisco, Drogheda, Bundoran, Denver Colorado and Dublin with many of Arthur Guinness’s finest products, I’ll leave it up to you to decide.
Kinlough is a village just a couple of miles from Bundoran, just over the Leitrim-Donegal border. There is a legend of a fairy tree here, that was cut down by a farmer. Each night afterwards he was tormented by cries for its return until eventually he acquiesced. The tree once replaced, continued to grow as nothing ever happened. The current locals have also done a lot of landscaping recently, building the impressive Eco-park with trails, a playground and picnic tables with a view of Lough Melvin.
They seem to have done a better job keeping the original inhabitants of the woods happy, as the faeries seem to have returned. Albeit with a little help from the local elementary school.
But it is a lovely place for an afternoon stroll to…clear the cobwebs so to speak
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Day 6 Saturday Spotlight
Something a little different today. To make sure you don’t get totally bored of my wittering while Niamh is occupied, https://www.facebook.com/donate/190779216067416/869196643934715/ we are going to have a guest once a week. Today it’s our friend, Darragh Gorman.
Darragh is a photographer, surfer, teacher, and creator that hails from the surfing stronghold of Kildare. Darragh has been a pal of ours for many years and may have even taken some of you for a surf lesson here in Bundoran. He is passionate about looking after our shorelines and creates art and furniture from driftwood and plastics he has found washed up on the shore. He is also involved with liquid therapy a brilliant charity that works with young people who wish to try surfing but need additional supports that mainstream lessons can’t offer them.
But today we are focusing on his stunning surf photography. (Although we might revisit some of his reclamation work later)
Such is the quality of his work; the ten photos below are just ones I selected at random from January 2021. Even if the thought of the Atlantic in January gives you the shivers, I’m sure you’ll agree, that Darragh’s eye for the drama and beauty of the sport is breath taking. He does have a business facebook page but he’s not great at updating it. Give his Lighthouse Industries Instagram a follow to catch for the latest shots. You can contact him directly if you are interested in commissions, prints, his amazing furniture or just to say hi. He’s very amiable especially if you have interesting movie recommendations. I hope you enjoy.
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Day 5 Misty Mountain Hop
I live on the border of Donegal and Leitrim, so my while Niamh has much more coastline to explore, my 5 Kilometre allowance tends to take me to the meandering roads in the foothills of the Dartry mountains. It was an uninviting day with a constant drizzle and slate grey skies when I started out.
One of the last days I was talking about how some days are tougher than others and I was delighted so many of you responded. As I said I’m pretty upbeat but it’s important and, I think, pretty healthy to allow yourself to have a bit of a bad day if that’s what you need. Allow yourself to have a grumpy moment. I find swearing at inanimate objects and singing loudly and out of tune to Rush cathartic, but whatever works for you.
But I must be honest. Despite the pretty yucky weather, I was in great form. The air was fresh and invigorating. The drizzle and mist just showed up the emerald colours of the mountainside. The rain fall meant the sound of babbling brooks was all around me. I met a goat. All was good in the world and I was feeling pretty optimistic. That is until I happened upon a sight that stopped me in my tracks. It was a washing line in a clearing in a forest by a cow barn.
I came to the realisation; I am just an amateur.
Putting your laundry out to dry on the side of an Irish mountain, in a forest, in February, in the rain.
Now that’s optimism baby!
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Day 4 Constance Craving
Today we are going to take a brief sojourn from jaunty walks and tales of indifferent fauna for a moment to mention one of Ireland’s most interesting heroes.
February 4th marks the birthday of Constance Gore-Booth. You may know her better as Countess Markievicz. She is one of the most important figures in the foundation of the modern Irish state but, like Helen Keller, her work in one area tends to be mentioned and her many other works brushed under the carpet.
She is probably most famous for being the first women elected to the British parliament and for being an Irish revolutionary. She was sentenced to death only to be reprieved due to her gender. To which she replied, “I do wish your lot had the decency to shoot me.”
But she was also a committed suffragette. She even worked with unionists (Those who wished Ireland to remain part of Britain) in trying to achieve the right to vote for women. Cooperation without compromise was her belief. A phrase I find fascinating.
Despite being born into a life of wealth and privilege, she became a voracious advocate for the poor and a dedicated trade unionist, setting up a soup kitchen during the 1913 lockdown. I am a fan but not a expert on the countess so I’ll leave it to historians like Niamh and other very knowledgeable people to talk about her impact. There are many brilliant books and talks to be found on her. And I haven’t even mentioned her amazing sister Eva. Learning about brilliant and often overlooked women is one of the few times the phrase “Do your own research” is a good thing.
But her life and specifically her home Lissadell house have been on my mind lately. I review movies for local radio and lately I have referenced my experience touring the house and especially the servants’ quarters while reviewing two different Netflix movies.
The White Tiger and The Dig are two interesting films. Both really made me think of class, status and how the privileged live their lives. One because of what it has to say about these things and one because of all the things it omits.
So, for today’s walk, let’s take a small trip around Lissadell house and its stunning grounds. The house is around 20 miles away and closed because of THAT THING so I couldn’t actually go there today. Instead, I’m using so photos that Niamh and I took last time we were there.
And speaking of movies how don’t we have a proper Markievicz film yet?
Saoirse Ronan has already said she wants to play the role. Imagine the pitch.
Constance has been called a “Class traitor of the highest order” by people trying to insult her and those admiring her. When she was a debutant in London, it was said that possibly the reason she failed to find a husband at that time because “of her abrasive mockery and an inclination toward practical jokes”**
Famously when asked for her fashion advice she replied, “Dress suitably in short skirts, strong boots; leave your jewels in the bank and buy a revolver.”
Tell me you don’t want to see a film with this tag line!
* She did subsequently marry a Polish count
#irishheroes #studyabroadireland #donegal #lissadell
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Day 3 Ankle-deep
Today I have a bit of a confession to make. First, I should introduce myself properly. I’m Collie and I, along with a few pals, am curating this space while Niamh is doing some other things ( https://www.facebook.com/donate/190779216067416/869196643934715/ ).
I help with the groups at www.isaireland.com and I contribute to the blogs about music and movies you might like to checkout during lockdown and hopefully even after. https://isaireland.com/irishmoviestolove https://isaireland.com/irishsongstolove/
Currently however, I have gone back to school and am a mature student at IT Sligo. Like everyone else, I am learning all about how to study remotely and adjust to this new way of doing things. To add to the weirdness as I transferred straight into second year, I have never met any of my lecturers or classmates in the flesh so to speak. They’re very nice, though I’m pretty sure when we finally turned the cameras on, they were surprised to see old father time staring at them. Apparently, I have a young voice.
Anyway, back to the confession. Even though I have a pretty nice set up here, I live alone and with lockdown meaning studying at home all day, it’s really important to get out when you can.
Generally, I’m a very chipper person and my story about seeing the green shoots through the gloom yesterday, is who I am. But for whatever reason today I hit the wall. It was rainy, I was grumpy, and I just didn’t want to go for a walk.
I made a deal with myself. I would go for a little drive, if it stopped raining, I would pull over in the first little country lane, go for a stroll. Maybe even take a little picture for this. So just at the edge of my 5k limit, the rain stopped so I spied a little boreen & stopped.
I leapt out of the car, full of false bonhomie, only to land ankle deep into a pile of mud. At least I hope it was mud. The sceptical cows opposite me seem to think otherwise. I vowed not to give up yet, seeing a pretty bridge ahead. But dear reader it was cold and bleak and made me think of Tina’s comment yesterday that made us laugh – that it might be Spring, but it looks like winter.
Just as I was about to abandon my walk, I rounded the corner to be greeted by a magnificent rainbow that my phone does not do justice to. I know this is corny, but it really happened and really cheered me up. I hope if you too are having a bit of a “Wednesday”, you have the same result. I’m off now to give my sneakers a very good wash.
#FabFebuary
Day 2 Celtic Spring
Being Groundhog Day I was tempted just post the same ten pictures and see if anyone picked up on it. But instead, I would like to continue talking about the start of Spring which has definitely begun, no matter Gobblers Knob’s resident rodent says.
Each of the Irish seasons start with a festival. Samhain, Imbolc, Bealtaine and Lúnusa.
Pre-Christian, the year started with winter season on November the first with Samhain. Samhain is both the name of the festival and the month of November. Nollaig (December) and Eanáir (January) finish the season. The ancient Celts believed you needed the cold season to start afresh again. Sort of like when you used to put your stanky jeans in the freezer (Or was that just us?).
Actually, our Celtic cousins while following a similar calendar, called their winter months An Dubhlachd, Am Faoilleach and An Gearran. This translates as the Dark Days, the Wolf Month and the Cutting respectively! Which may explain why Ian Rankin, Val McDermid and so many other brilliant crime writers hail from Scotland.
Spring commences with Imbolc on February 1st. Imbolc as we said yesterday refers to pregnancy, in this case the oncoming lambing season. It’s the only season where the first month doesn’t take the name of the festival that starts it. The shortest month is instead called Feabhra, with Márta, Aibreán following (March, April)
While we now mark our new year on January 1st, I am delighted that Ireland still celebrates the start of spring in February. And I think more people should too. Hear me out.
Despite February hosting my birthday, lets face it, in much of our part of the globe, it can be a dull old month. Surely this is when we need the pick-me-up
I don’t need to be told it’s the start of spring when I’m watching lambs bound around a field or walking through daffodils. I already know.
It’s on grey rainy days or frosty mornings I need to know that underneath the gloom, that nature is stirring. That the green shoots are already appearing. That spring is on the way. Anyone with me ?
#FabFebruary
