Down & Louth in Late Summer Heat and C-19

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 church that 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?