A Monastic Biking Trip

It was with a little surprise that, following a weekend away, there was another unexpected biking weekend. There had been no plans made, it was something of a last minute affair, but for that very reason it was exciting. I had contacted Newgrange Lodge – a hostel we had stayed in previously – to see if camping was a possibility; fortunately they said it was and the location in Meath meant it is ideally situated to explore more of the Brú na Bóinne. However, there were tasks to perform before the exploration could commence; Kivi’s bike had been experiencing charging problems and a visit to Anthony’s was on the cards…he’d soon sort it! We travelled on the main road[s] to Armagh on Friday night, taking in our now traditional curry in Armagh Indian Nights (Scotch Street) before heading to Gosford Forest Park to camp. Camping has become an integral part of the bike trips now and it’s safe to say we collectively obsess over camping equipment, but there is a joy in carrying on the bikes all we will need, we are, as Kivi said, hostage to no-one; there is an immense and interminable freedom in that. On arrival to Gosford, though, the upper fields were packed with weekend holiday makers and the noise was disconcerting, peace and quiet is what I now crave, so we moved to the lower field, camping beside an Englishman who was happily star-gazing with a rather impressive telescope….perfect! 

A Mythical Four Day Battle

After a breakfast in Markethill we were soon off in the direction of Keady, I knew what was before me - I am mechanically useless, my skills lie in other areas - so I simply observe with perplexed curiosity the process of repairing a bike’s mechanicals. I was content though, Anthony’s two German Shepherds (Jody and Rex) are playful and entertaining, so whilst the spannering commenced, I was playing with them. On changing of a few parts, a short run to Clontibret confirmed that all was well.

Hatch's Castle (Murtagh, 1989)

At this point we knew that our evening destination was Newgrange, but between then and now we could literally do whatever we wanted. We travelled roughly south-east from Clontibert to Carrickmacross; I had never been to Carrickmacross before, and the town was aesthetically pleasing, with a wide main thoroughfare. The name is from the Irish Carraig Mhachaire Rois meaning ‘rock of the wooded plain’. The town developed as a market town around the Earl of Essex’s castle, now the Convent of the St. Louis stands on the castle site, but there was a palpable ‘bustle’ to the town which maybe contributed to our decision to have an early dinner.

We continued south-east to Ardee, a town I remembered mainly due to the two tower-house castles on the main street. The name is a derivative of Atherdee, from the Irish Áth Fhirdia meaning ‘the Ford of Ferdia’ which comes from the mythological four day battle between Cúchulainn and Ferdia, for the defence of Ulster from Queen Maeve (Mabh) of Connacht. The first tower-house is seemingly squeezed between terraced buildings and is called Hatch’s Castle, a fortified residence within the town’s walls. It is, though, only in the 18th Century that the documentary evidence records the Hatch family in any detail, but the castle itself is of 15th Century date. Documentary evidence also records other similar structures in the town, and there would have been other tower-house type structures along the street edges in the 15th Century (Murray, 1939, 192-195).

The second standing castle is St. Leger’s Castle (sometimes called Ardee Castle or Pippard’s Castle); the castle belonged to a powerful property owner called John St Leger who is frequently referred to in documents about Ardee from 1412 to 1463 (Murtagh, 1989, 41). Although this structure is often confused with the manorial site (Castle Guard) to the south-east of the town founded by Gilbert Pippard as his caput circa 1185 (Gwynn, 1946, 78). The castle is massive compared to Hatch’s and is domineering and powerful in its architecture. St. Leger’s or Ardee Castle is significant for being the largest fortified medieval tower-house in Ireland or Britain although there are little to no remains of an earlier castle structure, founded by Roger de Peppard in 1207. Between the 13th and 17th century it was in the hands of the English until the O’Neills took it over; James II used it as his headquarters for a month prior to the Battle of the Boyne.

Continuing south, outside Collon we turned off the R168 on the Old Mellifont Road towards Mellifont Abbey, a ruined medieval Cistercian monastic site in a picturesque setting beside the Mattock River. The road instantly narrowed and the surface was rougher, but it was gloriously free from traffic. Mellifont Abbey (from Fons Mellis meaning honey fountain) was founded in 1142 by St. Malachy and was the first house of the Cistercian order in Ireland, although the ruins currently visible are multi-phase and are perhaps most famous for the octagonal ‘Lavabo’. The Synod of Kells-Mellifont took place in AD 1152, under the presidency of Cardinal Paparoni, and continued the process begun at the Synod of Rathbreasail of reforming the Irish church.

The consecration of the church took place in 1157 recorded in the Annals of Ulster: “The successor of Patrick (namely, the archbishop of Ireland) consecrated the church of the Monks [of Mellifont, near Drogheda, in presence of the clergy of Ireland, that is, of the Legate and of Ua Osein and of Grenne and of the other bishops and in presence of many of the laity, around Ua Lachlainn, that is, around the king of Ireland and Donnchadh Ua Cerbaill and Tigernan Ua Ruairc].” (Bambury & Beechinor, 2000). But during the consecration the church also banished the King of Meath, Donnchadh Ua Maeleachlainn for what appears to be the slaying of the Lord of Laeghaire: “Cuuladh Ua Cain-dealbhain, lord of Laeghaire, a man of unbounded hospitality like Guaire Aidhne, courteous and prosperous like Mongan, son of Fiachna, a brilliant lamp in charity to the poor, the chief lamp of chivalry of the Irish race, was killed through treachery and guile, while under the protection of the laity and clergy of Ireland, by Donnchadh, son of Domhnall Ua Maeleachlainn, King of Meath.” (Priour & Beechinor, 2008).

Newgrange camp (with Dowth in the distance)

After meandering around the abbey ruins we left the site taking the R168 towards Drogheda, we were caught up in a Gaelic match on our way through the town, but this was of no concern as we had eaten earlier and were simply on our way to Newgrange to set up camp. We turned due west onto the L1601 which becomes the Staleen Road once through the hamlet of Donore. Newgrange Lodge had a comforting familiarity to it, with memories or previous bike trips in which we explored Knowth. The staff were exceptionally friendly and directed us to the grass area beside the lodge building; the ground was sloped and stony, so the mallet that Kivi had bought in Armagh earlier was, literally, a God-send! No sooner were the tents erected, than the heavens opened, I was able to lie in my tent, a little exhausted and listened to the comforting 'pitter-patter' of the rain on the flysheet, the sound helped my eyes get heavy. We mooched over to the lodge building, reclining in two wing-back chairs like old men in a gentleman's club, talking about future bike trips and observing the vast diversity of life that seems to exist around a hostel setting before making our way back to the tents, not before taking in the countryside that was illuminated by the sodium-orange glow of Drogheda's street lights. The white walls of Newgrange are visible just over the crest of a nearby hill and it quite a sight before getting some sleep.

Mainistir Bhuithe

We ate breakfast in Drogheda, now quiet and sleepy on the Sunday morning, but as ever our own adrenaline had waned with the knowledge that the journey was, effectively, homeward bound. I also noted a split in my biking trousers at (Sod's Law) the crotch, so more money will have to be spent on replacing these. We left Drogheda, passing Saint Laurence / St. Laurence's Gate - a 13th Century barbican built as part of the walled defences of the medieval town, and widely regarded as one of the finest examples in Europe. Our destination was Monasterboice Monastic Site. 

Monasterboice

Monasterboice is a site I remember well, we learnt about it during my undergraduate degree in archaeology. The name is from the Irish Mainistir Bhuithe after Saint Buithe / Buite who founded the site in the 5th Century (the word 'Mainistir' simply translates as monastery). The site was once an important religious and learning centre before the nearby Mellifont superceded it. Buite was reputed to be a follower of St. Patrick, dying in the early 6th Century: “It was in the year of our Lord 520 that he died, i.e., the day on which Colum Cille was born, as stated in the Life of Buite himself. Buite, son of Bronach of Mainister-Buithe, was of the race of Connla, son of Tadhg, son of Cian, son of Oilioll Oluim.” (Martyrology of Oengus). The annals of Ulster seem to record his death twice; once in approx. 520AD: "The birth of Colum Cille on the same day as Buite son of Bronach fell asleep.” (Bambury & Beechinor, 2000) and again in 522/523AD: "Buite son of Brónach died." (Ibid). 

The annals for 970 record the sacking of Monasterboice and Dunleer by Domnall ua Néill of the Cenél nEógain; in an associated attack Louth and Dromiskin were similarly raided by Muircheartach m. Domhnall. "There is a lack of any definite record of Norse raids on the site, although raids on other churches in the region such as Clonmore, Duleek and Dunleer are recorded. The annals record the burning of Duleek along with the territory of the Ciannachta and ‘all its churches’; it seems likely that Monasterboice would have been included in this raid." (Gowan et al, 2009, 12). There was a fire at the monastery in 1097AD that destroyed much of its library: “The bell-tower of Mainistir with its books and many treasures was burned.” (Ibid).

The site is, though, most famous for three 10th Century high crosses, the most famous of which is the 5.5 metre Muiredach's Cross - regarded as the finest high cross in the whole of Ireland. It is named after an abbot, Muiredach mac Domhnaill, who died in 923. After looking at the ruins, we decided to lie and simply chill out on a mound next to the site entrance, this was something I hadn't really done on bike trips before and it was an exceptionally cleansing moment. I lay and looked up at the sunlight through the trees, a wave of peace and tranquillity descended over me in a all-consuming feeling of comfort.

All too soon, we had to return to the road and journey home. It was with a touch of dismayell as the nomadic way of life over the previous and this weekend is easy to get used to.Our journey home was via the coastal route, taking in the spectacular scenery around medieval Carlingford, thronged with humanity, its small near 1000 year old streets struggling to cope with the footfall that it was never designed to handle. I knew, here, that it was the end of the trip, we crossed into Newry and immediately my heart sank (which is no reflection on Newry, it was just obvious we were nearing journey's end). Rather than take the main roads home, we opted for the Mourne Coastal route that takes in Warrenpoint, Rostrevor, Kilkeel and Newcastle. I think 'cemetary Sunday' was on in Warrenpoint and as a result the traffic was horrific, exasberated by the ambient heat I became increasingly frustrated, overtaking long queues of cars in one twist of the throttle. Once in Newcastle, though, the weekend had (I think) caught up with us and it became something of a 'blast' back to Belfast, struggling to deal with the plethora of 'Sunday drivers' that seemed to inhabit every road and turn. But I soon overcame my frustration, the very act of being on the bike somehow relaxing in and of itself.