Ireland and her Abbeys - The Peace they Offer

I approached the long bank holiday weekend with a mixture of tentative excitement and relief, the latter being the more potent emotion. Never before had I needed a 'break' like it; waves of sadness that actually physically hurt can genuinely wear one down, both emotionally and physically. As ever, the bike was to offer succour and remains one of the most effective methods I have to assuage my sorrow, especially in one of life's nadir moments. 

This time there would be three of us, good friends and a dynamic that simply 'works' when we are together, each of us sharing common interests and views of the world. We set off from Belfast late on Friday evening with the night air still and warm; my GPS programmed with the coordinates to Slane Farm Hostel - a new destination as Newgrange Lodge was fully booked. Motorways are what they are; the quickest way to get from A to B and therefore it was only once off these, on the winding B roads in Meath, the bike came alive. I think it was the first time I have used the full beam headlight, which had the effect of floodlighting the road ahead (and also illuminating the flies and moths that were travelling all too quickly onto the bike's screen!), but I had forgotten how much I enjoy riding at night. The hostel and camp site is approximately 2km outside of Slane and ideally situated to explore the region. Once we had settled we set about inebriating ourselves fully, a rather effective way to de-stress, but one that I desperately needed to work.

View to the Boyne and bridge from Priory of St. John the Baptist

The next morning was glorious, warm and clear and we rode in jeans - not the norm, but a refreshing change. After the ubiquitous 'Full Irish' we had agreed to head towards Trim and the wealth of historical and archaeological sites there. We travelled roughly south-west on the N51 towards Navan, past Donaghmore Monastic Site (itself well worth a visit) and into Navan proper (with all the traffic woes that entails!). I don't know who suggested stopping for a strawberry milkshake, but it was inspired! Outside Navan, the road is more due south towards Trim. Trim is from the Irish Baile Átha Throim, meaning "town at the ford of elderflowers. However, our first stop was approximately 1km outside the main town at the Priory and Hospital of St. John the Baptist (Priory of the Fratres Cruciferi - or 'Crutched Friars'). The route is via the small (and presumably historic) Newtown Bridge over the Boyne which seems to add to the priory's picturesque setting. The priory was founded for the 'Crutched Friars' (derived from the wooden staffs they carried which were topped by a cross) or regular Canons of the Augustinian order by Bishop Simon de Rochfort circa 1202, which makes it roughly contemporary with the Cathedral of Saint Peter and Saint Paul (literally a stone throw to the north-west). The first hospital of the Crutched Friars was set up in Dublin in 1188; their hospitals were built similar to all Augustinian monasteries but with special facilities for caring for the sick. The most prominent building is a 15th century three-storey residential tower. The priory was dissolved in 1540 and the buildings were re-used as a private residence.

The nave towards the east end and later 15th century tower

Excavation by Sweetman in 1984 located part of the original domestic range to the north-east of the choir as well as a 15th century rood screen delineating the nave and choir (Barry, 1987, 163). Finds were mainly 13th - 14th century pottery and a late 13th-century key and an iron two-pronged instrument. All three of us sat on the walls of the nave and relaxed in the warm sunshine - shooting the breeze about a range of topics that to an outsider would be completely incomprehensible, but to us made perfect sense. As seems to be the way when visiting such sites, we were the only ones there, the ruins were ours along with the burble of the river beside the site. At that point it would have been all too easy to doze off in the heat, I know I nearly did. But the main attraction at Trim is the castle - the largest Anglo-Norman castle in Ireland. 

The great keep (or donjon) at Trim

The castle was constructed by Hugh de Lacey (and continued by his son Walter) as the caput of their Lordship in Meath, which was granted by King Henry II in 1172 in an attempt to curb the expansionist policies of Richard de Clare (Strongbow). The first castle would have been of motte and bailey type - indeed, the remains of the motte ditch are still clearly visible and the massive stone tower is erected on the mound that would have been the original motte. This early castle was burned a year after its construction (Leask, 1964, 32) probably by Ruadhri Ua Conchabair's raid into Meath (McNeill, 1997, 20). The stone keep, from architectural details, has been dated to 1190 - 1200 (Leask, 1964, 32). Although the great tower was built in stages and added to; initially it was a central block onto which side towers were added, only later was it raised to three floors, then its height increased again to accommodate a wall-walk. McNeill has argued that the tower was actually defensively quite weak, hence the need for additional works as well as the curtain walls, projecting towers and gates which were 13th century in date, but presumably not much later than the great keep (or donjon).

The curtain walls and Barbican Gate at Trim

Kivi and I took the tour of the castle, whilst Dee decided to sit and take in the relaxing atmosphere near to the original motte ditch. The top of the castle is dizzying in height, but the views were nothing short of breathtaking. Only inside does the massive scale of the place hit you, we learned that much of Braveheart was filmed here, with the great tower serving as several 'locations' and the barbican gate and curtain wall as York (which was attacked in the film). The battle scenes were also largely filmed in the fields adjoining the castle site. What was quite surreal was learning that the entire castle would have been white (lime-washed) and there are still places in Hugh de Lacey's private chapel that have the original white plaster on the walls! We were also told that a young Arthur Wellesley (better known as the Duke of Wellington) lived there for a short time. The whole site is almost surreal, and its not surprising it has been used for filming. After the tours, we headed into the sleepy centre of Trim for coffee and I couldn't believe my eyes - sitting begging to be eaten was a freshly made  dessert that was a favourite of my youth - Black Forest Gâteau! Even the plagues of attacking wasps couldn't damp my enthusiasm! We returned to Navan to pick up a curry and then onwards again to Slane Farm Hostel; this time the campsite was full, fires had been lit and the annoyance crept up my spine like a chill. The older I get the more I want solace and quiet, I find people who come to communal campsites and simply abandon consideration for others highly annoying, it appeared that I wasn't the only one as the next morning the group had left early (apparently unable to look anyone in the eye) and as soon as they had gone  a lovely couple who gave us coffees were instantly talking about them! It mattered not, though, as I had been able to get to sleep, albeit with he help of my earplugs, and I felt refreshed.

The bikes were loaded - we were moving onto another destination in Sligo for the night, but not before we travelled across several counties and stopped at more intriguing places. We stopped for a breather in Longford town, and from notes I realised that just south was the intriguing hamlet of Ardagh; the lads agreed that this would make an ideal stop for an hour or two.

St. Mel's Church (Ardagh)

Ardagh is from the Irish 'Ardachadh' meaning high field. The town is approached by quiet country 'B' roads which were simply a joy on the bike, I think in those tree-flanked roads we saw two cars. The village contains grey stone built buildings, all of a similar hue, in the winter they might appear austere, but on this clear(ish) day they seemed warm and friendly. It is a heritage town, but seemingly not promoted or advertised much. It is important as an early ecclesiastical centre with  St. Mel's Church; reputedly founded by St. Patrick in the 5th Century where he installed his nephew (St. Mel) as Bishop. Saint Mél of Ardagh was a was a 5th-century saint who was the son of Conis and Darerca; Saint Darerca was a sister of Saint Patrick and was known as the "mother of saints" because most of her children (seventeen sons and two daughters) entered religious life. Mél was appointed by St. Patrick as one of the earliest Irish bishops and head of the Diocese of Ardagh, he also built the monastery of Ardagh where he was both bishop and abbot. The little church is quite something to look at - the stones are massive in size and I can't imagine how they were moved so precisely into position over a thousand years ago! The whole site, though, does exude some aura, it is peaceful yet impactful at the same time. The stone church is is built on top of an earlier timber structure (Edwards, 1996, 123) which is probably 8th century in date (O'Brien, OPW, 2008). The site was used for Christian worship after the abandonment of Brí Leith (a pre-Christian site near the village used before and immediately after the spread of Christianity in the 5th century), therefore the whole area is of importance in a wider context of the Christianising of Ireland approximately one and a half thousand years ago.

The High Medieval Church ruins in Ardagh

I think we were all struck by the peacefulness of the place, we sat and simply took in our surroundings. We decided to investigate the ruins of another church a few hundred yards further down the road; again we were the only people there and this site (of which I cannot find a name) exuded an even greater presence. The Office of Public Works stateds that it was substantially rebuilt in the 17th or early 18th century although there are a number of cut and moulded stones of 12th or early 13th century date in the graveyard and west end of the church - presumably from the earlier Christian structures in the village. The whole place was something of a revelation to us, and meandering round the ruins gave peace to my soul. But it wasn't long before the bikes were calling us again, eager to get back onto the glorious roads we were on. We were travelling roughly north-west towards Carrick-on-Shannon, passing lakes on our left (the western side of the road) complete with crannogs - lakes such as Lough Forbes, Lough Bofin and Lough Boderg. Our destination was Boyle and its spectacular Cistercian Abbey ruins - which was en route to Strandhill in Sligo.

Boyle Abbey - looking towards the spectacular east end

Boyle is another town that developed around a religious order nearly a thousand years ago. Although founded in 1161 by Cistercian monks who had left Mellifont thirteen years previously, there appears to have been an earlier Irish monastic site called Ath-da-larag at Boyle onto which the Cistercians attached to or replaced with their own buildings. It wasn’t until approximately 1218 - 1220 that the Cistercian church was consecrated and renamed Buill / Búille [Boyle] from the Irish Mainistir na Búille. (NMS, 1998, RO006-068005). This delay, however, does not seem to have interrupted events taking place at the site and consequently the building, or certainly completion of the Cistercian building works, was halted when the abbey was seized by an alliance of English and Irish troops in 1202. We arrived at the site and tagged along to a tour with a group of tourists, but soon split away from the group, as ever, preferring to do our own thing. What was interesting was noticing that the nave displays two different types of architecture in the same building; the northern pillars are early Gothic in style with more decorated columns and pointed arches, whilst the southern pillars are Romanesque in style with rounded arches and rounded columns. It is on this southern side that there are also spectacular carved capitals.

Boyle, to me at least, has a sleepy vibe - there has never been any frenetic activity about the place on the few occasions I have been there, and I feel it is the nicer for it. But we were to continue westwards towards Sligo, now becoming a destination more and more visited on our trips in Ireland. Although initially on the main N4 road, with Kivi leading we swung westwards around Knocknarea on the coast-hugging R292. We set up camp in the familiar surroundings of Strandhill, the place I now associate with comfort and sleeping in a tent with the sounds of the ocean in the background; surely there is no greater sountrack to fall asleep to?

Sligo Abbey

That night we drank and feasted like kings before the long sleep and lie-in the next morning! Something even breakfast in Shells was unable to cure...so it must have been bad! With rising so late we were, in essence, out of time; we had planned to see a birds of prey centre but had missed the last show, so we decided to visit the marvellously preserved Sligo Abbey.

Now seemingly 'squashed' in with the town, the development of Sligo has somewhat engulfed the surviving remains, but it is a friary, rather than an abbey. The name is from the Irish Mainistir Shligigh and was built in 1253 by Maurice Fitzgerald, Baron of Offaly. The site initially is almost too much for the eyes, containing Gothic and Renaissance tomb sculptures, coffin lids, and screens as well as the best preserved cloister I have ever seen, the site also lays claim to have the only sculptured 15th century high altar to survive in any Irish monastic church. The site was busier than many that one can visit, although it still retained a personal feel - the three of us wandered round in awe, able to amble on the 1st floor levels. But our visit was soon at an end, time was marching ever onwards and we had to start the journey home. This is a part of the journey I despise; I know that the ride is now homewards and the trip is over. There is a solemnness and heaviness in the heart, the bike also seems to sense it and she tries, as ever, to comfort me. I had needed this weekend, perhaps more than ever before, the reason the ride home is so often disheartening is that it marks the return to normality and real life - the temporary fantasy and all it entails comes to an abrupt end. But....Quod est vita!

Ireland and the Abbeys (Videologue)