As the somewhat enigmatic title suggests, there was a focal point for this particular journey - the first in over a year on a bike for me, the Triumph trickle charging in the garage, unloved, for all that time since the highs of the Wales adventure. Life has a peculiar way of just steamrolling on and trips away are becoming more and more infrequent as jobs, parenthood, old[er] age continue - time truly waits for no man! I think I had said in another post that I thought - naively - that I would have more time when I got to middle age; the truth is I have much less. The bike had no MOT - so when a plan to see Loughcrew megalithic complex formed, it was the ideal opportunity to kill many birds with one stone. I booked an MOT in Derry for the same day of leaving (a bit of a risk, but the Triumph is serviced regularly and garaged, so I was confident there were no defects) - sure enough she sailed through.
But shortly after this joy the weather began to close in from the west - angry clouds combined with early Autumn dusk translated to a very wet and windy journey south to the camping spot for that evening - Strandhill. I don't mind riding in the dark, but combine that with, at times, vicious cross-winds and heavy rain through the Tamhnaigh an Mhullaigh mountains (and An Bearnas Mór [Barnesmore] Gap) it was interesting to say the least. However, even in those conditions, the way the road plunges through those peaks is something to behold; they rise like great shadows to the immediate right and left, dwarfing you in the process. Absolute blind trust has to be placed in your machinery in such conditions.
An Leathros
It had been a long time since I had been in Strandhill; the place has a very agreeable vibe to it - maybe it's due to it primary 'function' as a surfing destination, maybe it's the presence of Cnoc na Riabh and Binn Ghulbain that seem to surround the settlement or a combination of many factors, but there is a sense of being in the present when there. It was dark when we arrived and the immediate priority was to pitch the tents in what feels like an extension of the dune systems right next to the shoreline.
The camp site in the Dunes at Strandhill
The noise of the ocean has always had an affect on me, I need to be near water - always have done. Rolling countryside is beautiful, but water is - literally and metaphorically - essential for me. Once camp was set up, we meandered to the Strand Bar for pints of Guinness and craic. I had in my head that it was a Friday, so had to remind myself that it was a Wednesday on entering to find it more quiet that last visits. A Trad trio playing agreeably in the corner added to the atmosphere.
That night I fell asleep to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach - the noise become hypnotic in a way, but has a very grounding effect. The tents hunkered within the dune system that provides some shelter from the wind. I was surprised to see other campers there, I had thought around this time of year it would be empty, but then again why wouldn't others also have the same idea as us? It was only interrupted by Kivi struggling in the dark to get out of his tent, zips can be a nightmare! As is tradition, the morning is completed with breakfast in Shells before breaking camp and travelling towards Binn Ghulbain - which faces the road out of Strandhill. In the daylight, its sheer rocky top sits above the grassy lower slopes and it is symbolic of being in 'Yeats' Country'. But it is significant in myth that far predates Yeats; it was the hunting ground for the Fianna, it is also the setting for the setting for the story of 'The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne'. St Columba is also said to have fought a battle on the plain beneath at Cúl Dreimhne in the mid-6th Century.
Turas Thoir
Initially eastwards on the R292, we turned southwards skirting Lough Gill on the R287 crossing over into Liatroma (Leitrim). The Leitrim countryside is noticeably more rugged than some of the other surrounding counties, at times the roads became little more than surfaced tracks complete with grass in the middle, a contrast to sweeping turns of 'R' roads but adding variety to the biking. Our destination was a stop at Mainistir na Craoibhe Léithe (Creevelea Abbey) located in the ancient kingdom of Bréifne Ua Ruairc (West Bréifne) that existed from 1256 - 1605.
Creevelea Franciscan Abbey
The abbey is of the 3rd order of the Franciscans and is one of the last founded/built in Ireland prior to the dissolution of the monasteries by the King of England (Henry VIII). It was founded in 1508 by Eóghan O'Rourke, Lord of West Bréifne, and - probably due to its position off the beaten track - is not only in superb condition, but also quiet (we were the only visitors there). There are extant remains left including the church (nave, chancel, transept and choir), chapter house, cloister and domestic buildings. When I flew the drone over I noticed that the tower had later chimneys inserted. I thought it odd at the time, but post-trip research has shown that the bell tower was converted into lodgings/living quarters in the 17th Century (hence the chimneys) and the church was covered with a thatched roof. The Franciscans were driven out by the Cromwellian Army in the 1650s. After the Restoration, the abbey remained in use until 1837.
The site feels perched alone within the landscape - close to the Bonet River on a high ridge, overlooking the historic village of Droim Dhá Thiar (Dromahair). The name roughly translates to 'ridge of (the) two demons'. These ridges were clearly significant sites - the village side of the river the site of the important early church site of Drumlease, a Patrician foundation of the fifth century AD. The O'Rourke's had their castle within Dromahair - the ruins of the castle (supposedly built in c.950 AD, although the national monuments guide [LE014-009] records a likely 13th Century date) and banqueting hall were present in the village - highlighted by the street names around an area next to the river (Castle Street, Castlefields etc), although on the site are now fourteen holiday cottages. The remains of a (17th Century) fortified house and bawn still remain and can be accessed - referred to as Villier's Castle.
Loch Craobh
We continued southward on the R289/R280 flanking the western shores of Lough Allen on the Leitrim/Roscommon border. I recognised some of these roads and we had definitely been around Lough Allen before on another trip. The R299 morphs into the N4 near Drumsna and the twists that preceded it give way to long straights which gives you time to become more of a spectator in the landscape. At Newtown Forbes the route is due east onto the L100. We stopped to take stock in Granard and had I known what I now know would have pressed to linger longer. Granard is an ancient town able to trace roots back to the 3rd Century AD. It is mentioned in the Táin Bó Cuailgne, as being one of the places where Queen Medb and her army stopped on their journey to take the Donn Cuailnge. But it is also home to one of the most impressive motte and bailey castles in Ireland, built by by Risteárd de Tiúit in 1199. I cannot believe I forgot about the Granard motte and bailey - Tom McNeill would be disappointed!
Drone image of Loughcrew Cairns (Cairns S, T [centre] and U)
We again found ourselves hugging the shore of a Lough - this time the western and northern shores of Lough Shellin before stopping in Mount Nugent for one of the tastiest 99's ever before crossing over into Meath c.2km north-west of Oldcastle. Our destination was the megalithic complex of Loughcrew. I had never been to this magnificent site before, but can now tick off all of the great Neolithic cemetery sites that seem, to me, to run as an east-west line across Ireland: Carrowmore, Carrowkeel, Loughcrew and into the Brú na Bóinne sites of Newgrange, Dowth, Knowth and the myriad of smaller satellite sites such as Townley Hall.
Loughcrew is a complex of over 30 mounds, cairns and passage tombs sprawled across two hills - Carnbane East and Carnbane West - the latter on private land and closed to the public. Carnbane is an anglicisation of Carn Bán meaning 'white cairn' - and it is believed that the great cairn[s] were covered in white quartz - the same as Newgrange and, interestingly, other Neolithic monuments such as the Giant's Ring Henge (just outside Belfast). The most famous structure at Loughcrew is Cairn T which has the Irish cruciform layout with a large central chamber and side chambers, also similar to the mounds at the Boyne Valley complex. Is has been hypothesised that they also had a dual calendar type function with alignment to the spring and autumn equinoxes, which light different carvings towards the rear of the tombs; for the Spring Equinox (around 21st March), this rectangle of sunlight highlights the solar symbol on the top left of the backstone in Cairn T slowly descending to the solar symbol at the bottom of the stone as the sun rises. It is no accident that as more of these sites are studied, alignments with equinoxes, solstices and other events are uncovered/recorded; (i.e., as well as 'larger' events such as winter and summer solstices, along with the equinoxes, Dumha na nGiall[mound of the Hostages at Tara] is aligned with cross-quarter days of Samhain and Imbolc).
Evidence also suggests that Loughcrew predates Newgrange (albeit not by much), built around 3,200 BC (but the potential inference is that this site was of ritual significance prior to or at least in parallel to more famous sites. Loughcrew's appeal is widening and there seems, to me, to be a rise in people trying to connect with ancestors, ancient traditions and culture and connecting to what these monuments seems to focus on which is the passage of time, celestial/astronomical events and seasons (the 'universe' generally), and this is their appeal to me - alongside nerding out on the archaeology - there is a spiritual element to visiting them. However, the site retains a more wild feel when compared to sister Brú na Bóinne monuments; cultural tourism, though, will remain and likely grow so care must be taken of these sites; there have been reports recently of great monuments - Cnoc na Riabh (Knowcknarea), Lia Fáil (Stone of Destiny at Tara) and others, being either vandalised or damaged by people walking on top/over them.
Múghdhorna
The following day (Friday) brought with it a band of rain that was of biblical proportions; we took respite in the new Brú na Bóinne heritage/visitors centre before having little choice but to put our heads down and drive through the rain. Outside Newry, around the Ring of Gullion, the visibility was genuinely amongst the worst I have ever experienced on a bike. We ploughed on through the Mournes Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty to Meelmore Lodge to camp. We were utterly drenched and grateful that a local takeout was able to deliver to the site! Thank God for small mercies.
I always write that I hope it won't be long until the next run...but this time I mean it!!
When we were younger, we were time-rich but cash-poor (at least by rose-tinted recollection); whilst by no means being rich financially now, time - it seems - is increasingly harder to come by. Trips away seem to take an age to plan and notice required for everyone grows exponentially. I thought life would somehow get easier as I got older, but the reverse is true and responsibilities have simply increased. I think it was with hope, more than anything, that I was informed of (at that point an unconfirmed) trip to (north) Wales, but the great overseer had aligned everything to enable me to go. Tickets from Dublin to Holyhead were swiftly purchased, after which the sense of excitement only grew daily. It was strange standing in north Belfast at 5:00am nearly sweating in late summer/early autumn heat, conditions that felt completely counter-intuitive.
No-one had had much sleep the night before - an almost child-like sense of excitement had kept everyone awake, but on that adrenaline we were alert. The road to Dublin would be mainly motorway work, and somewhat frenetic given the need to check-in at the port 30mins prior to sailing. As we passed Newry and the Ring of Gullion the sun was rising to our left, a purple streak on the horizon that we all couldn't help but be amazed by. The air here was cooler than the rest of the journey, coming down off the mountains. We hit the outskirts of Dublin just as the early morning commuter traffic was building - a strange concept since Covid. We arrived with 2mins to spare!
The crossing was aboard the Ulysses Ferry - agreeably empty for the early morning crossing on a Thursday. The ship was in a class of its own when launched in 2000 now, though, it feels a little tired and like the set of a made-for-TV movie. The crossing was just over three hours, and we would dock in Holyhead with enough time to have a worthwhile day exploring. The weather was clear and warm as we met up the rest of our troop at The Edinburgh Castle Pub. We set off east - leaving Anglesey - initially on the A55 before turning northwards on the A5025 and B5109. These latter roads were through beautiful rolling countryside, superbly surfaced and with a myriad of twists and turns that were glorious on the bike - a sense of utter freedom.
Day One - Beaumaris and Bryn Celli Ddu
As we entered Beaumaris via Wexham Street, the streetscape tightens, presumably following the medieval layout of the town; many of the period buildings remain and the the town feels (on what was a beautiful sunny day...which always helps) picture-postcard in its quaintness and slightly 'French' in a strange way. We passed St. Mary's & St. Nicholas's medieval church (which we visited and will describe later), but our destination was the Edward I Beaumaris Castle (begun in the late 13th Century but never quite finished). For me, this was something of an epiphany moment - I had studied castles at university and the Welsh examples were lauded (rightly so), to finally see one in the flesh was memorising. The castle was the last stronghold built by 'Longshanks' as part of his 'iron-ring' in Wales.
Beaumaris Castle
The castle was one of near-perfect symmetry; four concentric rings of formidable defences included a water-filled moat with its very own dock. The outer walls alone bristled with 300 arrow loops. However, the project had hit financial difficulty by the early 14th Century - the south gatehouse and the six great towers in the inner ward never reached their intended height. The Llanfaes gate was barely started before being abandoned. The name is ‘beau mareys’ or ‘beautiful/fair marsh’, the town developed as a Viking settlement known as Porth y Wygyr ('Port of the Vikings'), but it was the arrival of Edward that the town began its period of recognisable development c.1295. The ancient village of Llanfaes, a mile to the north of Beaumaris, had been occupied by Anglo-Saxons in 818 but had been regained by Merfyn Frych, King of Gwynedd. What Edward did was typical of the way he stamped his authority on his newly conquered territories in Wales and, it has to be said, Kings and Queens of England did across these islands.
"The island of Anglesey, or Ynys Môn, held a special place in Welsh hearts long before Beaumaris was ever thought of. It was celebrated as ‘Môn mam Cymru’ (‘Mona, mother of Wales’) because of its mild climate and fertile fields. The so-called ‘bread basket of Wales’ helped to sustain the nation and support its independence." (Cadw, 2022). We feasted on freshly baked pies and goodies from Tredici Butchers and Deli before walking back up Church Street to St. Mary's and St. Nicholas's medieval Church. The building is evocative, representing what your imagination believes to be an old church; slate headstones and fine architectural details. It is a 14th Century building with a (14th-century) decorated nave with four-bay arcades, the chancel was rebuilt around c.1500 in Perpendicular (Gothic) style. The church retains some earlier artefacts; namely two stone coffins; inside the church is the tomb of William Bulkeley, deputy constable of Beaumaris Castle and his wife (Ellen) which the sign on-site dates to 1260-1307, but other information states died in 1490 (quite the time difference!). In the church entrance is also the coffin and lid of Joan, wife of Llywelyn ab Iorwerth, married at the age of 15, and illegitimate daughter (died 1237) of King John. Its location feels a little sad - it was 'rescued' from being used as a horse watering trough and feels like a metaphor for the entire story as to how the 'illegitimate daughter' was likely treated.
Bryn Celli Ddu Passage Tomb
We travelled south on the A545 hugging the coast, to the A4080 (Ffordd Brynsiencyn), the heat now rising from the road in the hot sunshine; I could feel the bike's engine temperature radiating out. Some of the roads were little more than tarmacked lanes, but in stark contrast to what we were used to, relatively pothole-less and a joy to ride. Our destination was the famed passage tomb of Bryn Celli Ddu; Anglicized to the ‘Mound in the Dark Grove’. We parked and meandered the 1/4 mile walk to the site beside the Afon Braint river even nibbling a few blackberries that grow plentifully along the route. What greets you is what in Ireland is referred to as a passage tomb.
However, the site is earlier than the mounded tomb; the earliest identified remains at the site are a row of five postholes, radiocarbon dated to around 4000BC, putting them at the end of the Mesolithic, 1,000 years before the next phase of use. The next (Neolithic) phase consisted of a henge (bank and ditch) enclosing a stone circle, it consisted of a bank (now lost) around an inner ditch, which enclosed a circle of upright stones. The ditch originally measured 21 meters in diameter. The outer edge can still be seen and several stones from the inner stone circle also survive. "1000 years after the henge was built, all but one of the standing stones were intentionally damaged, some were knocked over and six were smashed with heavy stones." (Park, 2014). In its place a passage grave was built; consisting of a long passage that leads to a polygonal stone chamber. Human bones, both burnt and unburnt, were found in the passage, other finds included quartz, two flint arrowheads, a stone bead, and limpet and mussel shells - a decorated pattern stone, carved with sinuous serpentine designs, has also been found.
The passage at Bryn Celli Ddu is aligned with the summer solstice sunrise, the alignment links Bryn Celli Ddu with a handful of other famous sites such as Maes Howe (Orkney) and Newgrange (Pitts, 2006). Describing the solstice event recorded in 2006, Burrow said: "the rays light up a quartz-rich stone at the back of the tomb." We left Anglesey via the Port Britannia Bridge joining the A5 south-east; the road is one of the most phenomenal I have ever ridden, the landscape and mountains rise up with Carnedd Llewelyn on the left and Glyder Fawr on the right appearing like a painted backdrop, a sense that they weren't 'real' they are so spectacular. The road flows, with multiple twists: Tregarth to Bethesda to Braichmelyn the road carving through the gorges in an act of engineering defiance. We passed Llyn Ogwen - a shallow lake with a maximum depth of only a little over 3 metres in which it is said after the Battle of Camlann (King Arthur's final battle), Bedwyr Bedrydant (Sir Bedivere) cast the sword Excalibur where it was caught by the Lady of the Lake. The road mirrors the path of the Afon Llugwy river to Betws-y-Coed before we turned south on the B4406 to our accommodation for the trip in Penmachno.
Day Two - Conwy Castle, Harlech Castle and Dyffryn Ardudwy
We were up early on Friday morning, greeted by another day of clear warm sunshine; combined with further excitement. We had amazed at the condition of the roads and how good the biking had been, today was to incorporate some more of Wales' phenomenal sites and sounds. We travelled northwards on the A470 to the picturesque town of Llanrwst with its beautiful arched Pont Fawr Bridge over the River Conwy. At Tal-y-Cafn we crossed over the River Conwy west onto the B5279 and then to the B5106 northwards to take these smaller (and more exhilarating roads) into Conwy. It made the arrival into the town (from the south-west) picturesque.
Conwy Castle and Castle Plan
As we came round a corner, Conwy Castle looms over you, bold and impressive atop its bedrock 'perch'. Even more imposing when you consider it was originally gleaming white! The scale of the place is bewildering and the castle and intact town walls (an unbroken 1,400-yard [1.3km] ring of walls) were completed in just four years from 1283-1287. What must it have done to the spirit of Welsh opposition to Edward I? The castle played an important part in several wars. It withstood the siege of Madog ap Llywelyn in the winter of 1294–95, acted as a temporary haven for Richard II in 1399 and was held for several months by forces loyal to Owain Glyndŵr in 1401. UNESCO considers Conwy to be one of; "...the finest examples of late 13th century and early 14th century military architecture in Europe", and it is classed as a World Heritage Site along with the other great Edwardian castles of Harlech, Beaumaris and Caernarfon. Divided into an Inner and an Outer Ward, it is defended by eight large towers and two barbicans, with a postern gate leading down to the river, allowing the castle to be resupplied from the sea. In keeping with other Edwardian castles in North Wales, the architecture of Conwy has close links to that found in the Kingdom of Savoy, an architecture that itself was imitated in Irish castles such as Northburgh/Greencastle (Donegal) among others.
We meandered round the maze of towers and rooms marvelling at what was in front of us, all the while overheating in what had now become a very hot day.
We spent the majority of the morning at Conwy, before starting the bikes up to head south and south-west to Harlech. We doubled back on ourselves towards Betws-y-Coed although there taking the A470 south-west past Dolwyddelan Castle that is on a hilltop overlooking the road. Once through a series of mountainous peaks, the road descends into the other-worldly landscape of Blaenau Ffestiniog slate mines; to either side of the road what look like mountains of slate seem to bring a gloom with their grey hues, they are almost oppressive and it feels like a relief when you leave them behind into greener surroundings - I've no doubt they'd make a great film set. We turned onto the A496 flowing past bodies of water before the B4573 - an even narrower road through dense woodland (Stryd Fawr) in Harlech. What surprised me about the journey into Harlech was its proximity to large sandy expanses and the sea - I don't know why, it just wasn't what I imagined.
Harlech Castle (Gwynedd)
Whilst Conwy takes your breath away, Harlech is more modest in scale (albeit still massive!). I can remember being taught how the 'D-Shaped' great gatehouse - the Tonbridge-style, that became increasingly popular during the 13th century, with two massive "D-shaped" defensive towers flanking the entrance - was copied in later castles as it enabled both a defensive configuration and also the ability to house luxurious accommodation and chambers in the upper levels. Harlech Castle was built between 1282 and 1289 but actually encompasses a much larger site than the 'main' castle walls (see plan here) with walls enclosing the entire 'castle rock' to the shore. Harlech was significant, withstanding the siege of Madog ap Llywelyn between 1294–95 and falling to Owain Glyndŵr in 1404 in the wider Welsh revolt. It then became Glyndŵr's residence and military headquarters for the remainder of the uprising until being recaptured by English forces in 1409. In local mythology, the site of Harlech Castle is associated with the legend of Branwen, a Welsh princess. Harlech town is small and quite quiet - the castle itself wasn't busy and there was a peacefulness that was tangible as we sat and shot the breeze on Twtil (street) beside the great walls. The clouds were starting to get darker, and there was the smell of thunderstorms in the air, and with it a humidity that was uncomfortable. So we decided to hit the road again - what I didn't realise is that on our way out we drove past the 'world's steepest street' - Ffordd Pen Llech.
Dyffryn Ardudwy
Just six miles almost due south of Harlech on the A496 is Dyffryn Ardudwy Burial Chamber; there is little parking, so we had to 'hoik' the bikes onto the pavement; the surrounding area felt somewhat 'tired', but as we walked up through the grove to the site clearing you could have been 1000 miles away. What greets you is an elongated oval of stones on the ground (remnants, presumably, of the cairns that would have once covered the tombs) and two dolmen (cromlech) structures. The site is a two-period Neolithic site comprising an earlier, small portal-dolmen on the west side set within a small oval cairn - when excavated a pit containing fragments of five Neolithic pottery vessels was found sealed by the cairn in front of the tomb. The second tomb was built to the east and set within a large cairn which incorporated the earlier tomb. This later tomb produced both Neolithic and Bronze Age pottery.
It was at this point the clouds overhead became really dark, and the slight spots of rain became a heavy deluge. We took refuge in the trees that are on the site, mighty oaks providing more than adequate shelter. The rain, though, soon passed and with the heat of the preceding days, the road dried quickly. The road back to Penmachno was as unexpected as it was amazing - climbing high into open moor and heathland we turned onto the B4391, a ribbon or tarmac draped over the peaks that weaves through phenomenal bends - although we had to be cautious due to the roaming sheep. To the east of Cwm Penmachno the road becomes a paved track that plunges downslope, the landscape changes in front of you to pine forests of Gwydyr Forest Park (Parc Coedwig - part of the Snowdonia National Park). We were approaching Penmachno from the south for the first time. It was that night that we ate and drank in The Eagles pub - our ears became tuned to the Welsh being spoken as first language in casual conversation between locals; which was lovely to hear. For me, pale ale and for the rest of the lads Guinness went down with alarming ease - the first time I've sat and had pints in a pub in may years. The 'craic was ninety' and I'm sure we could be heard in the neighbouring houses!
Day Three - Erddig and the Roads West
The third day began overcast but cleared very quickly with the day gradually becoming warmer and warmer; clouds lingered at times giving a muggy feel, and as a precautionary measure (which turned out to be unnecessary) I had donned my Dainese textile gear - which transpired into a decision rued. But nothing would detract from another perfect biking day as we toured almost due east to Erddig National Trust property on the outskirts of Wrexham. Just beyond where the road from Penmachno joins the A5 it is a delight with left, right, left sweeping turns to Clan Conwy. But thereafter the road straightens out and becomes much more of a main arterial route. At Tyn-y-cefn we veered onto the A5104 which is policed at 50mph by average speed cameras. At first there is a tendency to groan, but it soon became apparent that this day was a meander and the slower pace allowed us to look around and take in the beauty of the Welsh landscape - even if there was a frenetic search for a petrol station!
East façade of Erddig facing onto the gardens
At Tyn-y-cefn we could, as it transpired, have carried on due east on the A5 to Plas Newydd Historic House (14th Century house remodelled in the Victorian era), or Tomen y Rhodwydd (a mighty ditched motte and bailey), or Castell Dinas Brân (the hilltop ruins of a 13th century castle built on the site of an earlier Iron Age hillfort). But, perhaps a sign of age, there is nothing quite like a slow day wandering around a National Trust great house. Work commenced at Erddig in 1684 by Joshua Edisbury, who had been appointed High Sheriff of Denbighshire in 1682, but by 1709 he was bankrupt. John Meller, a successful London lawyer, bought up the debts of Joshua Edisbury. Once he had purchased Erddig he set about furnishing his new house with the very best furniture and fabrics. He began extending it to the north and south by the addition of two-storey wings, his 'rooms of parade'. But with no heirs he passed the estate to his sister's son, Simon Yorke, in 1733. Erddig was owned by the Yorke family for 240 years; each successive owner being called either Simon or Philip. The house is fantastic and is dimly lit - for the conservation and curatorial needs of many of the artefacts. But it adds to the atmosphere and, if nothing else, is likely a closer approximation to the lighting when it was first built and inhabited. As seems to be the way at a lot of National Trust sites, there was an army of elderly lady volunteers guiding us through the house and full of information about its contents. The road back to Penmachno was the same route we had taken, to be followed by another night in the pub with pints-a-plenty before most fell asleep in front of the wood-burning stove back at the accommodation....rock 'n' roll!!
The journey home was, for me, a solo run back to Holyhead in glorious sunshine to an over packed ferry (due to the cancellation of an earlier sailing) and a motorway blast home. However, there have been several 'take aways' from this trip: 1) ferry hops to Wales and Scotland for biking trips are the way forward - the fastest sailing to Wales from Dublin is just over 2hrs and a similar time from Belfast to Scotland so, surely, this is the way forward? 2) My spirit needed this trip, partly due to a few years of pent up travel frustration due to Covid and also as a break. My thanks to Caoimhin, Dee and Kivi.
It has been quite some time since I have posted anything on this blog, mainly because it has been quite some time since I have been anywhere! - a situation compounded by the world-wide pandemic of C-19. A new reality faces us all and this is especially pertinent to far-flung travel; will it ever be the same again? My own opinion is that travel has been irreversibly affected, which means seeing what's on our own doorstep hones into closer view; the term 'staycation' is bandied about, but that's what we've been doing for years on the bikes - we must have been ahead of the curve! It is, though, slightly wistfully that I write this piece, I can't help but wonder the frequency with which I/we will get to go anywhere, every passing week it seems there are new restrictions in place (something I am not opposed to), but combined with time marching on in terms of my own life I find myself looking back at 2014, 2015 and the amount of time we spent on the bikes and think that that must now represent the zenith of our biking adventures.
This trip represented the first time I had had my leg over the bike since France last year (for the 75th anniversary of D-Day). The weather was set fair, and it there were just two of us on this particular weekend; albeit we wouldn't be travelling huge distances, rather 'day trips' on the bikes. We chose South (County) Down as the location, mainly because the coastal roads and the scenery is nothing short of spectacular, throw in some summer weather and it is genuinely hard to beat. The roads can become clogged with people going to Newcastle, Murlough or the Mournes, but now more than ever I am content to amble behind for a bit, rather than immediately reaching to twist the throttle and overtake. A point that I seem to have visited a lot on bike trips is St. John's Point lighthouse (near Killough). But I had always wanted to see the little early Medieval churchthat one passes en route to the lighthouse. In truth, though, it is archaeologically important as an early stone church, but other than that a tad uninspiring. The road to it is tight and at times the hedgerows completely enclose you, and after nearly being hit by a large Range Rover on a preceding bend, stopping at the site is difficult.
St. John's Church
There are three walls remaining (although Harris writing in the mid-18th Century described it as intact), it is a pre-romanesque church, almost certainly on site of earlier wooden church, with sloping jambs and antae (were originally used to support wooden roofs on large churches, but this structure had a stone roof - the use of these is what furthers the suggestion that it replaced an earlier wooden church; Adomnán, 2012). Whilst maybe not architecturally spectacular, it is nevertheless enigmatic. It is associated with Eoan (John), son of Cairlánd. In 1977 an excavation was carried out that recovered early Christian burials - many children and adolescents - approximately 23 in total. The style of the building is what is used to date it and it is unlikely to be earlier that 8th Century and unlikely to be later than 10th Century (ASCD, 1966, 295-296), so built between c.700AD - 900AD. We were, though, slightly hot in the heat of the day and drove past the church towards the southern tip of the peninsular and the lighthouse. The lighthouse is intriguing; like a host of man-made infrastructure was air-lifted onto this natural setting. The lighthouse still contains its mercury light (upgrading to modern tech is being fought by those around the site). Much of the ancillaries also remain with what looks like a giant fog-horn type mechanism, with lots of rusted metal and engines lying around it. There is a cottage (still lived in, so if visiting please be respectful that this is still someone's home), complete with a goat wandering on top of the walls that at one point seemed to be staring us out!
The Road Leads South
We hugged the coast road south towards Newry (the last time I was here on a bike, it was also exceptionally warm), I don't know what mindset I was in, but I was exceptionally chilled and happy to simply 'be' on the bike - maybe a product of not having been on the bike in a while or maybe I was just glad to be out and about during the pandemic. Just south of Newry, the R173 / R176 road hugs the Carlingford Lough coastline, perched high above it to give fantastic views over the water and the rising mountains to each side. The mountain at Glenmore rises to the right hand side and there is a feeling of being cocooned between the water and it, but not in an oppressive way, it is strangely comforting. The traffic began to intensify as everyone had had the same idea as us, albeit not on bikes. I was glad I had worn my RST leather jacket, rather than the heavier (and warmer Dainese textiles). As we approached Carlingford (a location we always seem to either pass through or stop at) the sheer number of people became apparent. Cars were parked everywhere and every little bit of kerb and potential space had been taken - the advantage of a bike is that it can be 'hoofed' up onto the pavement without taking much room. There is also always a head-turning moment as people seem to want to see the bikes - usually this is more the case with the classic BMW's as they are evocative and much more what people think of as a bike rather than the more angular (and frankly less attractive) Triumph Explorer; but there were still some people going up close to 'the wraith'.
Carlingford in all its Glory
You don't even have to be a big fan of medieval buildings or architecture to enjoy Carlingford, it is exceptionally quaint and (as it still largely follows the medieval town footprint) is easy to navigate. However, I have always marvelled at the plethora of medieval buildings that still remain - a credit to those that may have rejected planning permissions for any modernity.
We soon found that we just wanted to sit and watch the world go by - initially on the harbour wall and then on a little patch of grass that looked onto the beach, the bay and the impressive St. John's Castle. The castle is late 12th century building (initially the great D-shaped enclosure castle with the east wing added in c.1261). It was likely built by Hugh de Lacey but acquired its name due to the belief that King John stayed there for several days in 1210 when he came to Ireland to apprehend de Lacey (1st Earl of Ulster). I've never been into the castle, so it remains firmly on the 'to do' list as I think it would be akin to visiting Trim Castle (well worth the visit - followed by something in Ruby Ellen's Tea Rooms if people are ever allowed back into such places!). It was on this 'grassy knoll' that existential conversations took place, always something that is to be relished on trips away. I had recently read Schröeder's theories that as we all essentially came from the Big Bang, we are therefore all connected - physically, biologically and, therefore, consciously. If you're interested read:'We are all Aspects of One Single Being: An Introduction to Erwin Schröeder', 1984, pp809-835. Social Research, Vol 1, No. 3. We must have sat (and maybe dozed) for an hour or so before we decided to head northwards - or rather due east - to Greencastle (not to be confused with the splendid castle in Donegal of the same name, in fact there seem to be a few Greencastle[s] in Ireland). The road north differed from our journey south in that we, this time, took the road the hugs the east side of Carlingford Lough - the A2.
A Mighty Norman Castle
Greencastle is another site I have always wanted to visit - alas currently closed due to C-19. But nevertheless well worth visiting just to see what remains. It is well signposted and surrounded by other monuments (e.g., raths) that pepper the Irish landscape. Greencastle (Co. Down) occupies a [high] tip of land protruding into Carlingford Lough and its strategic and defensive position is easy to see.
It is likely to have been built by Hugh de Lacy, along with Carlingford Castle on the opposite side of Carlingford Lough, to guard the narrow entry channel to the Lough, and the ferry crossing between the two. The motte from the earlier Norman, wooden, Motte and Bailey Castle (possibly built by John de Courcey) is still on the seaward side nearer the point. According to one legend John de Courcy was married at Greencastle Castle, but this may have been at the original motte & bailey castle. According to the information boards at the site it was held for the English Crown by Richard de Burgh, Earl of Ulster, from 1264–1333. It was attacked and taken by Edward Bruce in 1316, attacked at least twice by native Irish in the later 14th century but still maintained as a garrison for Elizabeth in the 1590s. It is approached across a rock-cut ditch. Although the castle dates mainly from the 13th century, there are substantial 15th and 16th century alterations. The skies were clear and a deep blue and this (along with the whole trip) had done wonders for my soul, slightly fatigued and jaded from the whole lockdown experience.
I can't help but wonder when we will next get some time on the bikes (I have come to accept that long weekends away will likely be few and far between), but even for a day out. It is now September (usually a great month to go away on bikes as the weather is usually better than June/July!). But darker nights and colder, wetter weather is on its way in, so the next time will likely be 2021....I wonder what state the world will be in then?
The trip had been long in the making - a change from our usual long weekends away in Ireland and, for me, the first time riding a bike in mainland Europe. The trip took place over the second week in June and coincided with the 75th anniversary of the D-Day landings of WWII, enough to see in itself nevermind when added to the scenery of Normandy. The ferry crossing from Dublin Port takes around 18 hours and left more than enough time to get suitably excited! We drove from Armagh on the main roads through torrential downpours to be left standing waiting on the Irish Ferries' W.B. Yeats in hot sunshine for several hours; the advantage of being on a bike is that you are first on, followed as we were by a couple on a loaded scooter who looked like they couldn't be happier, even if this thing belched smoke and fumes in the faces of anyone following it.
The bikes ready to board at Dublin Port
The first adventure took place before we had even docked, with the huge vessel redirected by the French Harbour Masters to check on a small yacht that was struggling in high seas off the French coast; apparently all was well - to the amazement of the crowds that had gathered on the decks to watch. The little craft bobbed violently in the swells and whoever was skippering it had bigger cahones than I! At best it looked precarious, at worst damn terrifying!
We docked and disembarked in Cherbourg, cutting our way through the
queued car traffic to the Gendarmerie manning passport control and we
were through. No reason to panic over the anticipated checks for
high-vis vests and other items that one is told one must have to journey
in France. Immediately apparent is that the surroundings are not
exactly picturesque; Cherbourg is a large industrial port and has the
associated infrastructure around it, mainly large industrial estates and
Route Nationale[s] that we soon found ourselves on. Leaden skies and
chilly temperatures did not help the aesthetic. We had to have our wits
about us, firstly due to other bikers (a contingent on Harleys) who
pulled out immediately in front of me from a standing start for them at
the side of the road, forcing me to swerve, to an errant bus driver who
thought he would weave in lanes to stop bikes overtaking him (which must
have been somewhat concerning for his passengers nevermind us!).Our
plan was to head for the accommodation as quickly as possible, just
south of St. Martin-de-Cenilly. We passed Valognes and then Carentan and Saint-Lô before heading south-west on the D38 through small hamlets of
Canisy, Quibou, Dangy and finally St. Martin-de-Cenilly.
Good Coffee in Gavray and the Start of the Trip Proper
Heading for coffee in Gavray
What looks like a relatively small distance on a map of France is, in fact, rather large - we were just south of the peninnsula of land on which Cherbourg tops, showing in tangible terms the vastness of France. By the time we arrived at the Gite, we were drenched - this was compounded by the need to withdraw money for the deposit; so a further journey 7.5km south to Gavray and an ATM was required. Gavray became, though, a town we would travel to most mornings for coffee prior to heading north for the D-Day sites. By this stage we had already seen and passed hundreds of period vehicles (Willis Jeeps, personnel carriers, motorbikes etc) and was a sign of things to come. The next morning we grabbed some of the most phenomenal coffee I've ever tasted in Gavray, now bustling with the Saturday market full of fresh French produce.
Our route northwards was to the Airborne Museum in the famous Sainte-Mère-Église; the sat-nav took us on the D7 towards Contances before the arrow-straight (Roman?) road D971 through Raids and Sainteny. Period vehicles were everywhere and, in truth, we had completely underestimated the scale of the celebrations, perhaps naively thinking that as it was after the 6th (the actual anniversary), things would have dwindled - if anything they had ramped up for the weekend! All the villages we passed through were of similar postcard perfect architecture, like stepping back in time and, with the jeeps driving about complete with those in the in period uniforms, it was akin to post-liberation, it genuinely felt like a snap-shot of that time.
Sainte-Mère-Église and D-Day Anniversary
Sainte-Mère-Église
Sainte-Mère-Église was a hive of activity; the streets were thronged with people including elements of the current Airborne U.S regiment - all there to see a parade (that we didn't know was taking place!). The Sainte-Mère-Église (Church of St. Mary) has a dummy paratrooper hanging from the spire, a reference to the events of 1944 when John Steele of the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment landed on the roof and his parachute was caught; he could only watch the fighting below, pretending to be dead for two hours before being captured - he later escaped and rejoined his division which retook the town from the Germans (the story is portrayed in the film 'The Longest Day'). It is also one for the first settlement centres liberated after the D-Day landings. The town is thought to have been founded in the 11th Century, and retains the pretty architecture and narrow streets off the main thoroughfares that seems to characterise this part of France; the earliest records from c.1080 refer to it as Sancte Marie Ecclesia (Church of St. Mary). The current name has also been translated as Holy Mother Church.
The Airborne Museum is one of the main destinations in the town (with much of its tourism based around WWII), and is spread across a flat field with several buildings housing separate exhibits. As with the streets, it was packed - at times uncomfortably so - there were a lot of Americans there, presumably representing their Grandfathers who had fought as part of the landings. There was also a current German military contingent, which I thought was nice to see; perhaps a representation of the loss of life on both sides and ultimate futility of war - my mind cast back to the ending of the film 'The Memphis Belle' that pays tribute to bravery on both sides. After passing a Sherman Tank, we made for a building that houses a glider, complete with dummy paratroopers. The exhibit also houses a collection of photographs, some harrowing, of the landings and the inevitable aftermath. There are also a fascinating collection of used objects such as undetectable glass mines, knives, radios and, most poignantly, helmets complete with bullet holes; bringing home the fact that it was on someone's head when the bullet entered, a loss of life that even behind the glass screen suddenly becomes very tangible and very real.
Dakota at the Airborne Museum
The second exhibit houses a complete Dakota (there are used aeroplane propellers at the entrance and a symbolic Olive tree) alongside a collection of arms from all sides of the war, uniforms and yet more photographs of the landings. The scale of the plane is huge, and one can only imagine the skies full of them. There is a collection of field medical equipment that resembles a torture kit, rather than something that could offer relief and succour. The third exhibit was a sensory experience; you enter what seems like the side of a plane to be faced with more dummy paratroopers, except you are in the moment - the plane is vibrating, its dark and outside are flashes and bangs representing flak. There are radio comms going on around you....it is the moment before the jump. After a few moments decompressing on the grass, we exited the museum to immediately be caught up in a large parade, so opted to sit down and have a drink to let it pass; the small bars and brasseries were buzzing with activity and people. We travelled south on the D14 and then D514, again passing numerous jeeps and other WWII vehicles, to Grandcamp-Maisy and due east to Omaha Beach at Vierville-sur-Mer. Omaha was the code name for one of the five sectors of the Allied invasion and specifically refers to a stretch of coastline 8km long from east of Sainte-Honorine-des-Pertes to west of Vierville-sur-Mer. The objective was to secure the beachhead thus linking with the British landings east at Gold Beach and VII Corps landing west at Utah Beach.
Omaha Beach and Pointe de Hoc - the Force they Exude
One of the Omaha Beach memorials atop a German gun position
The site is perhaps made famous through its depiction in film and TV; Band of Brothers and Saving Private Ryan to name but a few. As with those depictions, nothing really went to plan with the landings, despite it forming part of the largest armada ever assembled in human history. Even though it was a clear and sunny day, for me there was a dark undercurrent that pervaded the place - you are in a place that witnessed death on an epic scale - the presence of the monuments act as moments for sombre reverie. On the beach itself were some families playing and building sand castles and, for me, it seemed incongruous; immediately behind them are sealed but complete German concrete gun emplacements (Widerstandsnests) with the gun loops still in situ. I couldn't help wondering what still lies beneath the sands - yet conversely maybe their leisure time on the beach is a very real representation of the very thing that was being fought for? For me, though, there was an internal conflict that was broken by the low-pass of two Black Hawk Helicopters. With it being (apparently) high summer, the nights were long and we had lost track of time, leaving Omaha around 6.30 for the hour-long journey back to the accommodation. The roads were, in the main, a joy to ride on, riding on the right-side of the road soon became natural and second-nature; indeed it seemed intuitive rather than something to worry about.
Omaha Beach also incorporates more sites and monuments than the beach itself; one of these is the infamous Pointe du Hoc that we visited the following day, taking the same route that flanked Saint-Lô in moist and exceptionally humid conditions. The first thing that struck me about Point du Hoc is the poc-marked and cratered ground that surrounds it; remnants of the artillery shell craters that formed the sea and air bombardment of the site.
The artillery craters at Pointe du Hoc
Pointe du Hoc formed part of the Atlantic Wall defences - originally built in 1943 to house captured WWI French guns, the site was augmented in 1944 with H671 concrete casements, H636 observation bunker and L409a mounts for 20mm Flak 30 anti-aircraft guns. The location was bombed in April 1944, after which the Germans removed the 155mm guns. Although the Germans had removed the main armament from Pointe du Hoc, the beachheads were shelled by field artillery from the nearby Maisy battery, on the fire support plan of heavy cruiser HMS Hawkins, during the assualt by the US Rangers shelling was provided by the battleship USS Texas, and destroyers USS Satterlee and HMS Talybont.
Concrete fortified position at Pointe du Hoc
"The assault force was carried in ten landing craft, with another two carrying supplies and four DUKW amphibious trucks carrying the 100-foot (30 m) ladders requisitioned from the London Fire Brigade. One landing craft carrying troops sank, drowning all but one of its occupants; another was swamped. One supply craft sank and the other put the stores overboard to stay afloat. German fire sank one of the DUKWs. Once within a mile of the shore, German mortars and machine guns fired on the craft. These initial setbacks resulted in a 40-minute delay in landing at the base of the cliffs, but British landing craft carrying the Rangers finally reached the base of the cliffs at 7:10am with approximately half the force it started out with. The landing craft were fitted with rocket launchers to fire grapnels and ropes up the cliffs. As the Rangers scaled the cliffs, the Allied ships provided them with fire support and ensured that the German defenders above could not fire down on the assaulting troops. The cliffs proved to be higher than the ladders could reach."
The main sites have been left, thankfully, intact and provide a stark reminder of the fighting that took place - the timbers on the interior roof lines are still charred from either flamethrowers or grenades that were used against the German position, the walls are also riddled with multiple bullet hole scars. Again, there was much to take in and absorb, and again this was disturbed by several low flyovers by three Chinook Helicopters and then a large [Hercules?] type plane.
The American Military Cemetery
Even on motorbikes, we could do little about the mile long queues of traffic on exceptionally narrow roads trying to approach the Normandy American Cemetery (Cimetière Américain de Colleville-sur-Mer), the air-head BMW's - parched from the non-movement - began to exhibit some displeasure! We parked some distance away and walked the rest of the distance with a sizeable crowd.
The American Cemetery (Normandy)
The cemetery covers some 172.5 acres overlooking Omaha Beach and contains the remains of a little under 10,000 dead. The burials are marked by white Lasa marble headstones, 9,238 of which are Latin crosses and 151 are Stars of David. The cemetery contains the graves of 45 pairs of brothers (30 of which buried side by side), a father and his son, an uncle and his nephew, 2 pairs of cousins, 3 generals, 4 chaplains, 4 civilians, 4 women, 147 African Americans and 20 Native Americans. 307 unknown soldiers are buried among the other service members. Their headstones read 'Here Rests In Honored Glory A Comrade In Arms Known But To God'. The Wall of the Missing has inscribed the names of 1,557 service members declared missing in action during Operation Overlord; 19 of these names bear a bronze rosette, meaning that their body was found and identified since the cemetery's dedication. As with most things now becoming apparent on this trip, the scale hits hard; it is literally a sea of white headstones as far as the eye can see and another genuinely tangible reminder of what happened here.
Saint-Lô - The 'Capital of Ruins'
The journey back to the accommodation passed through the small village of Formigny, complete with its 15th Century church that paid more than a passing nod to earlier Romanesque styling (with chevron carved decorations and rounded arches). There was soon torrential rain via the D29 for a stop off in Saint-Lô; it's fair to say that we didn't see this town at its best - it was exceptionally dark and dreary and there are better days to see it. However, walking through the centre towards a shop for supplies, the rising bedrock outcrop atop which stands ancient looking walls and the shell of a cathedral immediately stood out. The city came from the name Briovère between the confluences of the Vire, Dolée and Torteron Rivers. This original name comes from 'Bridge on the Vire River' in Gaulish, unsurprisingly the town was built on and around ramparts. The town started life as a Gallic fortified settlement, occupied by the tribe of the Unelli of Cotentin.
Saint-Lô ramparts and cathedral
The town was conquered by the Romans led by Quintus Titurius Sabinus in 56 BC, the town was subsequent beset by invasions throughout history: the region was the scene of various Saxon invasions during the 3rd Century. The Franks didn't establish an administrative power there, although Briovera was nevertheless entitled to hammer coinage. Historian Claude Fauchet claimed that "the Coutentin, at the same time as our Merovingian kings, was inhabited by the Sesnes (Saxons), pirates, and seems to have been abandoned by Carolingians, as variable and too remote for correction by our kings, to the Normans and other plunderers of sea...". Sainte-Croix Church was consecrated in 1204, this Romanesque building is the oldest in Saint-Lô and believed to be on the ruins of a temple of Ceres, it has undergone many modifications over the centuries. Only the gate and the first bays remain from the Norman period. Christianity grew quite late - there were only four bishops of Coutances before 511. A pilgrimage was conducted and the city took the name of Saint-Laud, and then the name Saint-Lô which has been known since the 8th century.
Saint-Lô in 1944 and present day 'The Capital of Ruins'
During the Liberation, Saint-Lô suffered two series of air attacks during the Battle of Normandy; the first was the bombardment of the city by the Americans during the night of D-Day 1944. The first American air strike killed almost eight hundred civilians. Allied planes continued to attack the power plant and rail facilities daily for a week. A second series of air attacks began on 17th July during the Battle of Saint-Lô - one of the three conflicts in the Battle of the Hedgerows, which took place between 7th -19th July 1944, just before Operation Cobra - only on this second occasion it was bombed by the Germans, giving rise to its description by Samuel Beckett as the 'Capital of Ruins'. I knew I had heard of Saint-Lô, but it is only post-trip that its significance has been brought to the fore. Another site that if one had time, would be worthwhile exploring - like so much of Normandy and, I suspect France in general, you could spend months just in one area and be constantly finding new things and being generally beguiled by what the area has to offer.
Bayeux (so much more than a tapestry)
Our final day again commenced in driving rain, by this stage, though, no-one cared. We had seen a lot and there was more to see. Our journey was almost due north-east initially on the D38 which then turns outside Saint-Lô to morph to the D972 that becomes the D572, again arrow-straight, and plunging through Cerisy-la-Forét (the Cerisy Forest). At this stage I was struggling to see with a mixture of the rain, a fogging visor and, as if that wasn't enough, rain on my glasses from when I had opened the visor in a vain attempt to let air in to de-mist it.
Walking in search of coffee in Bayeux
I had memories of Bayeux from my youth, I remembered it being profoundly pretty, and it remains so. Founded as a Gallo-Roman settlement in the 1st century BC under the name Augustodurum, Bayeux is the capital of the former territory of the Baiocasses people of Gaul, whose name appears in Pliny's Natural History (iv.107). Evidence of earlier human occupation of the territory comes from fortified Celtic camps, but there is no evidence of any major pre-existing Celtic town before the organisation of Gaul in Roman civitates. The town is mentioned by Ptolemy, writing in the reign of Antoninus Pius, under the name Noemagus Biducassium and remained so until the time of the Roman Empire. The main street was already the heart of the city. Two baths, under the Church of St. Lawrence and the post office in rue Laitière, and a sculpted head of the goddess Minerva have been found, attesting to the adoption of Roman culture. The city was largely destroyed during the Viking raids of the late 9th Century but was rebuilt in the early 10th Century under the reign of Bothon. In the middle of the 10th Century Bayeux was controlled by Hagrold, a pagan Viking, who defended the city against the Franks. The 12th-century poet Benoît de Saint-Maure, in his verse history of the dukes of Normandy, remarked on the Danish commonly spoken at Bayeux.
The 11th century saw the creation of five villages beyond the walls to the north east evidence of its growth during Ducal Normandy. William the Conqueror's half brother Odo, Earl of Kent, completed the cathedral in the city and it was dedicated in 1077. However the city began to lose prominence when William placed his capital at Caen. The term 'Normans' used to define William, his court and the invasion of 1066 is a derivative of 'North Men' / 'Norsemen' referring to the Viking settlement and lineage of the Norman Knights. We, of course, visited the Bayeux Tapestry which is an exceptionally ornate and superbly executed embroidered cloth nearly 70 metres (230 ft) long and 50 centimetres tall, depicting the events leading up to the Norman conquest of England culminating in the Battle of Hastings. It is thought to date to the 11th Century, within a few years after the Battle of Hastings. It tells the story from the point of view of the conquering Normans, but is now agreed to have been made in England - not Bayeux. It is likely that it was commissioned by Bishop Odo, William's half-brother (although there are a plethora of other theories and ideas as to who may have commissioned it). In 1729 the hanging was rediscovered by scholars at a time when it was being displayed annually in Bayeux Cathedral.
The interior of Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Bayeux
After coffee (and for Dee the best tarte tatin I have ever seen), it was like an excited child that we made our way to the imposing and exceptionally impressive cathedral (Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Bayeux - 'Cathedral of Our Lady of Bayeux'). Early medieval architecture is something I cannot help by 'geek out' on and this is one of the best examples of a Norman-Romanesque building. The site is an ancient one and was once occupied by Roman sanctuaries. The present cathedral was consecrated on 14 July 1077 and although following serious damage to the Cathedral in the 12th Century the Cathedral was rebuilt in the Gothic style which is most notable in the crossing tower, transepts and east end, it retains many Romanesque features such as the crypt and decorative elements that clearly are a reference to what went before. As with all medieval cathedrals, the height is both impressive and symbolic and for me there was a sharp intake of breadth at the scale of the building. They are meant to impost and meant to instil some sort of reaction spiritually - for me whilst not necessarily a religious experience, they are nevertheless spiritual. We could have wandered Bayeux's pretty streets for days, but the trip was now drawing to a close, we were soon on the road southward to the accommodation to pack for an early start the next day back northwards to Cherbourg and the ferry home.
I cannot recommend highly enough a trip to France; the people were exceptionally friendly and helpful, despite my [very] broken French. The roads were agreeable, the towns pretty and even in damp weather, there is little to dampen spirits. France....you were phenomenal!
A visit this week to the World Heritage Site has got my proverbial juices flowing. It has aroused not-so-dormant curiosities in all things archaeological! Newgrange is known as Sí an Bhrú with the latter word sometimes spelt
brugh or brú, (the same word as Brú in Brú na Bóinne). This word is
sometimes translated as ‘palace’ or ‘mansion’ and therefore Newrange is
often referred to as the ‘palace of the Boyne’. However, the old Irish
word for womb is Brú and so Brú na Bóinne may actually be more correctly
translated as Womb of the Bóinne/Boyne, rather than palace or the
mansion of the Boyne.
The term Sí (sometimes síd or sídh) is usually associated with mounds and fairy mounds. Probably the oldest meaning of Sí relates to “(the) Otherworld”: that is the subterranean world of the Tuatha Dé Danann and Aos Sí in the literary traditions of Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man. The second – and later – definition of Sí is “Otherworld Residence, Territory” (pl. Síthe). The majority of Síthe were equated with the ancient burial mounds and graves that dotted the landscapes of Ireland, though the term was sometimes applied to other areas associated with the supernatural like notable hilltops, caves, springs, lakes and certain wilderness locations (An Sionnach Fionn, 2009).
The entrance, entrance stone and passage at Newgrange
If the alternative translation is applicable, it perhaps gives even more significance to the sites in terms of their ritual function, that is to say, if these monuments are/were referred to or thought of as ‘wombs’. One is perhaps hesitant to use the term because of ‘new-age’ connotations, but ‘mother earth’ springs to mind; returning the ancestors to an other-worldly and comforting realm. It would also further the significance of the solstice as an experience given this great ‘womb’ along with Dowth is aligned with the winter event (an alignment of Knowth is conjectural, but hypothesised to align with the Equinox – akin to the Loughcrew complex). In days that now seem so long ago I studied the Boyne Valley and its archaeological significance (memories of Waddell’s ‘The Prehistoric Archaeology of Ireland’), learning facts such as; the Beaker People's influence, it predated Stonehenge, it predated the Great Pyramids and so on. But facts and figures offer little substitute for experiencing these places, although one fact I will hold onto is that there is a smaller mound that predates Newgrange on top of which it was built.
With the Bóinne cultural landscape a World Heritage Site since 1993, a wider appreciation of heritage sites in the public psyche and the inexorable rise in cultural tourism, it is no surprise that such sites attract visitors. Infrastructure associated with guiding people to these places is now ever-visible, as are attempts (understandably) for businesses to somehow associate themselves with it and take advantage of the passing trade. Newgrange (alongside Knowth and other similar monuments - I wrote about a trip to Knowth in 'Biking Through the Brú na Bóinne') never fails to impress once standing in front of them. It’s easy to see them in splendid isolation, but of course they were and are surrounded by other associated structures and sites, indeed there are a collection of standing stones to the front of Newgrange as well as numerous other smaller satellite passage tombs, a series of henge sites, cursous, ancillaries and a later Bronze Age woodhenge. There was, just this summer, the spectacular discovery of other monuments and another sizable henge. It begs the question 'just what were they doing here?'.
For me it is tempting, and would almost be easier, to write an archaeological critique and analysis of the site, and make it quite dry for the reader; something I have been guilty of in the past, but something I just can't help - the old academic in me will never quite die! Instead I thought I would focus on visiting the monument, peppering it with some facts, and concentrate on how it made me feel.
The incised decoration and stone bowl in the western chamber
The approach to the site is dominated by the white quartz façade that is, I'm reliably informed, reconstructed based on archaeological evidence from Prof. O'Kelly's excavations in the 1960's. I remember being told when excavating Ballynahatty that the Giant's Ring henge in Belfast would originally have gleamed with white quartz as well, excavations of cremation burials often also had quartz stones associated with them, sometimes placed at the compass points next to the urn. These sites would have, therefore, literally been beacons within the landscape. However, the façade reconstruction has and did cause some consternation and debate amongst archaeologists. The standing stones to the front almost act as guides to funnel one towards the entrance that is, in itself, imposing to say the least. You are greeted by the great decorated curb stone and two passages (the upper is the light box for the winter solstice sun atop which sits a great chevron decorated lintel).
To enter, a stoop is necessary, minding the protruding capstone that looks like it could do some damage - and nearly did to my head on exit! The passage is lit, but even so the gloom seems to enclose you both literally and metaphorically; maybe it is like entering a womb or a warm embrace of the earth? In places the orthastat[s] lean in and this means if claustrophobic, this would be somewhat unsettling. Then the great corbelled chamber opens out and there is a sense of space; the height of the ceiling is as equally surprising as the complexity of the construction. Immediately the sheer amount of different decorations on stones becomes apparent, they are everywhere - spirals, circles, chevrons, lozenges and triangles. The designs on many stones continue on surfaces now hidden and excavations revealed that many stones are carved on their undersides and on the sides turned inwards to the cairns. Therefore it may not always have been important for the whole design to be visible which would suggest that the design and perhaps the decorated stone itself was significant, rather than the viewer or their interpretation.
The famous triskele at the back (north) chamber
I had to keep reminding myself that the place was over 5,000 years old! The art intrigues me; what was it's purpose and what did it mean? There has been, of course, much conjecture with the spirals and circles postulated to represent the sun and movement of the sun's course across the calender year. The chevrons have been interpreted as darkness and there is no doubt in my mind, remembering the solstice alignment, that light and dark and the celestial movements were significant. It is hard to argue against the famous ‘r’s in terms of purpose; ritual or religious significance. The purpose behind these monuments is theoretical, some have argued either as a place of worship for a ‘cult of the dead’ or ancestor worship (anyone familiar with Time Team will know of Francis Pryor’s fascination with ancestor worship), or for an astronomically-based faith. Prof. O'Kelly believed, rightly in my view, that the monument had to be seen in relation to the nearby Knowth, Dowth and the wider landscape, and that the building of Newgrange "…cannot be regarded as other than the expression of some kind of powerful force or motivation, brought to the extremes of aggrandizement in these three monuments, the cathedrals of the megalithic religion." (O’Kelly, 1982). O'Kelly argued that Newgrange, alongside the hundreds of other passage tombs built in Ireland during the Neolithic, showed evidence for a religion that venerated the dead as one of its core principles (Ibid).
Townley Hall - Little Grange - Summer Solstice (Ken Williams)
At one point, the interior lights were switched off and standing in the darkness fundamentally changed the space and its impact. After this a 'fake' winter solstice effect is created to show what the chamber is like when lit by the shaft of sunlight that hits the back (north chamber wall) and illuminates the famous triskele on one of the orthastat uprights. It was only recently that I discovered a nearby small passage tomb called Townley Hall, not often visited, but it also has an alignment with the summer solstice as imaged by Ken Williams of Shadows and Stone. In his image you can clearly see the alignment; excavated by Prof. Eoghan prior to his long term excavation at Knowth, the sockets for the missing passage and chamber stones were located and can be seen by the concrete placement slabs.
The point is that within this cultural landscape there are almost too many monuments, many very large and significant, to count, all of which required thought, engineering and exceptional will to complete; many are aligned to celestial events (including winter and summer solstices [proven] and equinox events [proposed] alongside others that might yet be discovered). Therefore, the laws of probability would conclude that these monuments acted together throughout the year. They were special then, they remain special now.
