The Final Ride Before a Life Changing Event

October in 2016 has been unusually warm, and I am tempted to say we have had something of an ‘Indian Summer’. I would even argue that the Irish summer is now late August to September and the first week of October, it certainly no longer appears to be June or July! We went away on the bikes slightly later than this last year around Samhain, although that was to Meath and it was certainly fresher than this current October. All too often the immediate and overriding aspiration is to go somewhere far away. Can we make it here…or can we make it there? I have always counselled looking closer to home but as with so many things in life have ignored my own advice. Not so this time, although it will probably remain a singular event. The leaves, even as I write this, are increasingly and with ever greater speed turning the gorgeous yellow, orange and red hues; it always makes me wish I was better at photography, but Autumnal colours are so evocative and it is no surprise that it remains a key part of the year, celebrated by many religions including pagan ones. The weekend had been in the diary for a while, but somehow snuck up on us all and it is the last weekend on bikes before I become a father, and therefore my life becomes very different indeed!

Caledon House (Images by BBC & Lord Belmont)

One element I don't tend to like about riding at certain times of year is dirt....I know some will roll their eyes, but I am fastidious when it comes to cleaning equipment, I like things to look nice as well as function well and the same applies to my bike. Thankfully, then, it was dark when I set off on the Friday evening, the nights already drawing in after the Autumn Equinox (or Mabon - the time of equal length between day and night), it wasn't long before I was enveloped in glorious darkness; I have always liked riding at night, especially on a road on my own, for me there is a comfort in it and a peace. My destination was just outside Keady for the night, before we were due to head west to Fermanagh.

Best laid plans always fall flat on their face, and we left later than perhaps expected. However, the trade off was that the day was turning into one reminiscent of high summer, rather than October. My dash temperature reading proudly stated it was 19°C and it felt accurate! After a breakfast feast, from Armagh we travelled almost due west, I was tempted to pull into the ancient Irish royal site of Navan (Emain Macha), but resisted - it is for another time! This road continues as the A28 through the countryside to the sleepy and picturesque village of Caledon, which is always worth a stop. It is predominantly made up of yellow/grey stone buildings that hark back to its association with the Earl of Caledon, Caledon House and the mill[s]. The name was originally from the Irish Cionn Ard / Aird meaning ‘high head / hill’ and was later changed to the house name Caledon from 'Caledonia' (Scotland) by 1700. "Caislen Ceann Ard ‘the castle of Kinard’ was mentioned in 1500, when held by the family of Seaán Buí ÓNéill. The dative form appeared as Cionn Ard. In 1642 Kinard was shown with an island castle on the 1609 map, and was described as a ‘smale markett towne’ with a stone bridge in 1654. The name Caledon came into use in the 1660s, but in another source still referred to as Kinaird in 1666." (Muhr, 2006).

Mill Remnant (Image by Google Earth)

The country seat here hasn't been sullied or polluted, indeed the lake in the grounds still appears to contain and early Medieval crannog (TYR 071:003). A right turn down Mill Street will lead to some quaint stone cottages, across from which in a rather sad state lies the remnant of the beam engine, engine house and chimney base from the old mill. The engine is one of only eight examples surviving in Ireland and is the oldest clearly attested beam engine on the island. The A28 continues as the Derrycourtney Road - one that I advise visiting on a bike; usually agreeably empty, the road quickly cuts through scenic countryside, the views sporadically obscured when the road becomes engulfed in green tree tunnels that give a truer sense of one's speed! The road turns north-west with arrow-straight sections to Aughnacloy after which the road becomes the A5. We, however, split off ever westwards on the A28 which becomes twistier and something of a technical challenge that I think we all enjoyed, crossing over the iconic Blackwater River which here is still broad and a familiar peaty hue that our rivers seem to have. We were soon at Augher then Clougher, at which I let my eyes wonder to the left and the tree-lined earthworks of the Clougher Hillfort, wishing I had remembered and stopped at the imposing monument. We were now on the A4 towards Enniskillen, the fastest route but also the busiest and we had to do our fair share of overtaking on those souls who looked utterly bored as their cars huffed up each hill. My visor was up with the heat of the day, the air rushed in to my lungs in great gulps - it lets me know I'm alive!

Topped Mountain is a large area of significant archaeological interest approximately 4km north to south and just over 2km at its widest point east to west. Within this, at Mountdrum is a scheduled area (FER 212:054) containing a plethora of megalithic tombs including wedge tombs, stone circles, stone alignments, fulacht fiadh (burnt mound - which as any archaeologist knows, can be a pig to excavate!) all located close to six crannogs, raths and other monuments that leaves little doubt of the significance of the wider landscape.

View north from the 'Giant's Grave' at Mountdrum

We were the only traffic as we wound and twisted our way up the somewhat rutted Tattygare and Cloghtogle Roads before parking at the site. The views are magnificent and lush to the north, but what stands before you is boggy ground covered in course tussocks of spiky bog grass and the reddy-brown heathers that always seem to have ankle busting potential. In what was now almost searing sun traipsed across the site, a little bewildered and lost if the truth be known. There is always the possibility at such sites that there will not be much to see, major megalithic sites like Carrowkeel, Carrowmore, the Brú na Bóinne, Beaghmore et al all have large amounts of intact remains, but lesser known sites that don't receive high visitor numbers tend to be left and, especially over recent years presumably with budget cuts, are now becoming badly overgrown. The complex at Mountdrum should be phenomenal, it has been mooted that it could look similar to Beaghmore if excavated, but in truth it is underwhelming. Its situation remains special with awe-inspiring views, but I left feeling sad that such an important site is in this condition. However, those thoughts soon left as I began to struggle up the path in the heat. I had to get out of the Dainese trousers and into jeans as I was quickly overheating. The breeze as we rode the small Tattygare 'B' Road northwards was rejuvenating. We were joining the Tempo Road to and through Enniskillen before it becomes the beautiful Lough Shore Road, twisting and plunging through woods and forests hugging the Lower Lough Erne shoreline to our destination Inish Beg Cottages - if only all roads were like this....what heaven that would be!

The view to Lower Lough Erne from Inish Beg Cottages

The cottages seem to be more remote than they are, but that adds to the ambience and feeling that the world of bills, the mortgage, incessant sales phone calls etc was thankfully jettisoned some miles behind. The views over the Lough complete with crannogs and foreshore reeds and trees is idyllic and on a good day, the picture of an escapism paradise. The owners waved gleefully at us and warmly welcomed us (complete with a bag of Sloe Berries from which they were going to make Sloe Gin). There is a serenity to the place that generates an image in my head of abandoning it all in River Cottage style and buggering off to a small holding where life would be simpler. The truth, of course, would be polarised from the myth I have in my head and we would probably starve! We unpacked and were soon back on the bikes travelling for dinner - although with the panniers off the bike felt freer and unrestricted; sometimes a turn of speed is what the head needs! Why can I not make a living from riding my bike? Ahh, wouldn't that be perfect‽ I always think that Enniskillen is bigger than it really is, it is a small and historic town (I have written about its origins from Inis Ceithleann - Ceithleann being a prophetess and wife Balor of the Fomorians in Irish mythology), but by now I know my way round and we were heading for an eat-house and a new experience for me - Hop House 13. The ride back to the cottage was in the dusky conditions that lends a new perspective to the landscape, dusk seems to bring the natural environment alive somehow, the imposing thin pines at parts of the road edge looked like an alien environment before giving way to softer indigenous woodlands. The evening felt like a summer night, warm and close rather than what my head thought it should be.

The Giant's Ring

The Sunday can be slightly depressing - the return to normality is usually signalled with an appropriately grey day, the weather gods somehow sensing the mood and acting accordingly. The morning started off  grey and even wet at times, but soon cleared. We were on the homeward leg. We were supposed to turn for Lisnaskea (which is an historic settlement) and look at Castle Balfour, but I kept missing the turns and so it was after Augher that Anthony took over, leading us on glorious 'B' roads that I cannot retrace - but nor do I even want to, they are fresh in my memory as flowing ribbons of tarmac. It was at this point that I became a solo rider, and despite my eagerness to get home I had one stop that I felt compelled to make, it was a need and one that has been bubbling in my consciousness for a while now. The giant henge and dolmen of the Giant's Ring. On arrival I had completely forgotten the sheer scale of the place, the height of the bank and width of the monument as a whole; the just off-centre dolmen is completely dwarfed by the earthworks (although there would have been a cairn over it). The inner ditch has silted and given the height of the bank one can only imagine its depth and how it would have looked - the banks would have been covered in white chalk, glistening and blinding in the sunlight, it would have been a phenomenal sight from miles around. But the place represents more to me than that, I excavated at the adjoining Ballynahatty back in the late 90's (now it is a field with a standing stone in it), but that summer remains a halcyon time. As I stood atop the tall bank looking north at where Ballynahtty is and south at the the Giant's Ring I felt a wave of peace come over me. I must return, and soon - on two wheels or not.