Ostara Rises Once Again

Once again an auspicious time of year approached and we were ready to head away on the bikes. Ostara is one of the festivals on the pagan 'wheel of the year' alternatively known as the Vernal Equinox. When I look back at videos from the last few years it always seems to be around this time that the first biking weekend of the year occurs. Maybe it's a change in mentality that comes with spring, maybe it's simply some better weather and an additional hour to the day but surely it's no coincidence that it's always towards the end of March. I awoke on Friday with even more glee than usual when I heard the forecast for the entire weekend was for clear skies and almost summer-like temperatures.

The journey was to be southwards (as is nearly always the way!) trying to take in smaller ‘A’ but especially ‘B’ roads where possible. After a few morning glitches I set off after lunch the heat of the high sun warming my back through the armour and riding jacket. Initially it was utopic; I seemed to be the only vehicle on the road as I travelled to join the A23 then the A24 towards Ballynahinch. It was here that things started to go slightly array – I must have caught the start of the schools leaving, the traffic became almost intense and the heat built in my new Evoline 3. I knew that from here on I would have to do a lot of overtaking as the roads to Dundrum (my pit-stop destination) were all single lane and my patience was wearing thin. I had overtaken numerous cars and several caravans before the south-westward sweep of the A2 reveals Dundrum bay. Rising through the trees on a hill overlooking the town is Dundrum Castle, where I had to meet Anthony. The castle is one of the grandest examples of an Anglo-Norman castle in Ulster and the views from it are genuinely phenomenal.

Dundrum Castle Donjon and Upper Ward

It is thought that the earliest Norman defences were enacted by John de Courcy towards the end of the 12th Century, some postulate around 1177, probably consisting of earthworks; excavation in 1950 showed four phases of construction with the perimeter bank the first phase (McNeill, 1997, 24). The site itself is interesting as it is now believed to have been built atop an earlier Celtic monument, the 1950 excavation also found evidence of earlier occupation (Ibid) and more recent work states; “Artefactual and place-name evidence suggests that the Anglo-Norman castle was, almost certainly, built upon the site of an enclosed, high-status, settlement dating to the Early Christian period.” (Macdonald et al, 2013, 4). The recent Time Team series dug at the site trying to find evidence for an earlier pre-Norman cashel. The earliest historic reference to the castle in the 13th Century call it “the castle of Rath” when it outlines de Courcy’s failed attempt to siege the castle that was once his in 1205 with the help of his brother-in-law Rǫgnvaldr Guðrøðarson, King of the Isles. The Annals of the Four Masters refer to a battle in 1147 ”…in which the Ulidian army is described as having been pursued by an army ‘led by Muircheartach Mac Neill Ua Lochlainn and the Cinel-Eoghain, and Donnchadh Ua Cearbhaill and the Airghialla.” (Ibid, 7). The castle was captured by King John in 1210, de Lacy subsequently strengthened the castle with the large round donjon, although from memory this was later than the curtain walls of the upper ward that were erected earlier in 13th century which would make them roughly contemporary with the failed siege. 

Dundrum Keep and Gatehouse Remnants

It was probably after de Lacy's second tenure as Earl of Ulster (1227 – 1243) that the single towered gatehouse was built into the upper ward curtain wall. The curtain wall of the outer bailey is likely to have been built by the Magennis family of Mourne who seized Dundrum in the late 15th century. Blundell’s House is a seventeenth-century domestic building in the southern part of the outer ward. When visiting these monuments they usually uplift me but sometimes they can be quite mournful – here stands this great monument that was an integral part of the history of the area and it was locked hardly any visitors and a tad forlorn on its great hilltop. That rumination, though, was soon shattered with the sound of Anthony’s BMW approaching from Castle Hill! After a bite to eat in Newcastle, we set off for the cottage in fading light and dipping temperatures, but it was worth it to see the orange/purple hues of the setting sun. We flanked Tollymore Forest on the B180 before passing though Hilltown and the joyous multiple ‘S’ curves of the B8 just east of Mayobridge. We still had to collect Kivi but this would be done later and by now the need for thermals was not simply desirable, it was essential with the nighttime temperature on this clear spring evening now rapidly approaching zero and maybe, at this height, even below that. We continued to the accommodation, meeting the owner in fast fading light before lighting the wood burning stove to get some much needed heat into the converted barn.

Don't Forget To Look Up
I had my camera with me and wished, as I looked up at the clear sky, I had brought the longer lens, tripod and other accoutrements and had tried to take some pictures of the night sky; something I keep promising myself I’ll do. It’s like many promises I make to myself, ‘I’ll find time’ or ‘I can do that tomorrow’ are little excuses I always seem to mutter to myself, but tomorrow all too often comes and goes and the promises remain unfulfilled. Whoever said time is fluid was right, and not just about the physics, conceptually too…at times it’s like a waterfall that we try to swim away from, in the end, of course, in vain. The journey to the accommodation with Kivi in tow was now in temperatures that took my breath away, despite this I enjoyed leaving a gap in my visor and the cool air flooding my lungs was invigorating, juxtaposed the warmth of the extra base layers I had put on. That night the wood-burning stove was lit and it was good to see my friends whom I haven’t seen in some time as we talked about bikes - boys and their toys!

Close up of the Explorer

Hiring a cottage or similar accommodation enables you to use it as a base and 'fan' out from it to visit and see what an area has to offer. I was pleasantly surprised by how cheap these places can be, but there is a caveat as always; they are getting harder to book. Maybe it's the state of the world today, but it seems more people are either going away for weekends or holidaying at home. I can remember when we first started staying in such places there seemed to be a plethora. Now, though, in many instances you have to book a month or even two in advance; for locations that are close to world famous sites (e.g., Meath), even for July and August it is hard to find anywhere not already pre-booked. Do not get me wrong, I am not complaining....I am all for people exploring what Ireland has to offer, as it has a lot. Up, as I was, on my own I photographed the blooming Daffodils, listened to a buzzard overhead and simply sat in stillness watching the still water beneath me and listening to the chorus of birdsong; it was glorious. I suddenly realised how long it had been since I had seen the sun - that might sound almost ludicrous, but it was true. For me the winters now have become almost a test of endurance, they seem longer and literally darker than I remember from my youth. The spring and the heat on my face was rejuvenating, added to by the 'ticking' of the metal on the bikes heating up under the clear skies.

The Ridges of Slievenamiskin and Cock Mountain

The Mournes were called na Beanna Bóirche (the mountains of Bóirche) or more literally, the Horns of Bóirche. They were settled as a Kingdom in the 12th Century by a 'tribe' from Monaghan, the name historically spelt Morne which is derived from the name of a Gaelic sept called the Múghdhorna - descendants of Mughdorn, son of Colla Meann, brother of Colla Nais, King of Ireland (AD323 - 327). Colla Nais became King of Ireland after the battle of Dudhcomar, apparently near Teltown at the River Blackwater where he slayed his uncle, Fiacha Sraibhtine. Colla Uais reigned nearly four years when he was deposed by Fiacha's son, Muiredach Tirecah. The three ‘Collas’ and their principal chiefs – almost 300 people – were expelled from Ireland (hence the prefix ‘Colla’ to their names), and forced to take refuge among their relatives in Alba (Scotland). Rather poetically the Mournes were described at the turn of the 20th Century: "The mountains form a mighty crescent, whose steadfast horns rest silently, here, stony and stern in the sombre firs of Newcastle, there, grassy and gracious in the green oaks of Rostrevor." (Moore, 1901). As we approached them, the warmth of the sun at sea level is interrupted by the cooler air coming off the Mournes; the change in temperature is palpable and looking up I realised the peaks still had little outcrops of snow, which simply added to the ambiance of driving through the mountains. It’s at times like these you wish the road would keep going, but part of the charm of the area is its compact size enabling lots to be seen in a day. 

The view to the snow covered Slieve Muck at Spelga Dam

We wandered through Newry on Sunday morning, shocked at the lack of businesses open; a throwback to some of the archaic opening laws here. If we truly wish to attract tourists and enter the 21st Century, then these things need to change. We finally managed to find a cafe that sold good coffee. After this, we were on the road which by now was genuinely warm - I could feel the heat coming off it as I lent into severe corners. Our destination was again through the Mournes, exploring the little 'B' roads that are abundant through the mountains. What I didn't realise is the wealth of archaeological sites littered on the slopes and peaks as well as near the roads. We began to climb outside Rostrevor towards Hilltown which itself has a motte (Ballymaghery Motte - DOW 048:021) and Early Christian ecclesiastical site (Clonduff - DOW 048:019) which has a Medieval church on top of an earlier monastic settlement. We were travelling east on the B27, and just east of Hilltown is a complex of megalithic monuments including a standing stone, stone circle, well preserved cairn and a 3 chambered court tomb (which was also used as a habitation site in the Iron Age). On the road, though, we were blissfully unaware of such things as the unique peak of Hen Mountain loomed into view. We continued on the B27 (Kilkeel Road) between Hen Mountain and Kinnahalla, although the B180 (Bryansford Road) north east is also an option.

Spelga Dam and the Golden Mournes
Our pit-stop destination was Spelga Dam, the name is from the Irish Speilgeach meaning 'place abounding in pointed rocks' (Muhr, 2008). The car park was unsurprisingly busy on such a good day and the cooler breeze coming off the mountains was something of a relief. I was soon dismayed at what the site has become; it is a beauty spot yet litter was everywhere, even in the small stream feeding the reservoir. In the car park the generator from a burger van was exceptioanlly loud completely ruining the stillness of the area and, no doubt, disturbing any wildlife there was. I had always thought the body of water was created with the building of the dam, but what I didn't know was that on its eastern shore is Deer's Meadow (Booley Huts), a settlement site of uncertain date. This coincides with a prehistoric findspot on the western shore and a further site of 18 Booley Hut foundations 1500 metres to the south-west at the southern base of Rocky Mountain. These were sub-rectangular and sub-circular, approx two metres across and most had an east facing entrance. It perhaps shows that you never quite know what you are looking at!

We turned south, the B27 now becoming the Moyad Road that cuts through Pigeon Rock and Slieve Muck mountains and the smaller peaks of Slievemageogh and Slievenagore and Crocknafeola Wood before turning east on the Head Road. I have always loved roads that have mountains on either side, it gives one a sense of scale, I enjoy how the peaks dwarf the road and, indeed, myself. It lends perspective to how small we really are. By now the journey was well and truly homwards; the sense of adventure somehow leaves me when I am on the main[ish] roads home. The Mournes, although easily accessible and not, by any means, a large or high moutain range still have a sense of wildness and that, surely, goes hand in hand with riding bikes....doesn't it?