The long and winding road

The title of this post could be used to describe almost every little journey I've made in Ireland. Even with clear directions, I get confused on the roads. "Just keep straight on the road" can mean that you go straight no matter how what the road you're on seems to lead you to follow it around that curve. Or it can mean just keep on whatever seems to be the same road. The possibilities are not as simple as coming to an intersection and driving straight on through. Subtle bends get me every time.

I'd been invited to go to the townland of Bohermore to visit the ruins of the McDonald family home. It's still not clear if was the home once owned by "my" McDonalds. The original family had left by 1850 but seem to have moved back sometime later. It is unlikely I'll ever know for sure.

Anyway, given the instructions to turn at The Fighting Cocks pub/restaurant where the sign points to Nurney, I was quite confident. I did not have the Eircode for the precise destination. but I turned at the right place and began to follow the road. Soon it turned to the right and the fork to the left seemed less promising. I went with the right angle. That was my first mistake. I did eventually, after another few turns, get to Nurney. I should have stopped and called from there. That would have been too easy.

I asked a couple walking along the road and got another clear set of directions. Those also did not take me where I wanted to go. I gave up then and and made my call for help.

Seems that I had misunderstood pretty much everything after "turn left at The Fighting Cocks". When I phoned, arrangements were made to meet in Nurney. Only problem was I wasn't certain of how to get back there. I had not dropped breadcrumbs. The luck of the Irish was with me because I did manage to get back to the village, to the Inn as discussed, and was met there by Steven. From there I followed him to his farm and he took me to see the McDonald ruins. I duly took a photo but I'm still not certain where there is a connection to that particular family.

Of course Steven's hospitality first included a cup of coffee and a biscuit and a bit of conversation. It was a lovely time all in all. The instructions for getting back were to follow the narrow road beside his property - always going straight through. Lo and behold, I was back at the Fighting Cocks in only a few minutes. That was the road I should have taken in the first place. 

The views were lovely, the hospitality as warm as ever so the day was a success. 

Sunday dawned clear and sunny and pretty cold. The temperature was apparently 9C. I'm not sure where in Bunclody that measure was taken. It felt more like -9C with the wind. But it was sunny for almost the first time in three weeks.

In the afternoon I set out to meet Colm O'Rourke who is responsible for the Coolkeeno FB page. I was hoping he might have some knowledge passed down over the generations, of where Fitzwilliam tenants might have originated. 

I met him at Egan's pub where Mary joined us in conversation. I learned some details about the area, that it's quite possible that my Kehoe connection may even have been from the Liscolman area which is pretty close to Coolross. That is nowhere near where all other contacts pointed. Ah well - some things will always remain a mystery. 

From Colm I did learn of an interesting site: www.ducas.ie . In the 1930s it was thought a good idea, by government, to record old folk tales and stories of life around the country. School children were encouraged to learn the stories from their elders. The result is an ever-growing repertoire of now-digitized hand-written stories of many aspects of Irish life. You can easily lose yourself in those pages - and I plan to do that quite often.

Then it was supposed to be a quick trip to Coolross to return the Wellies that I hadn't needed the previous week. Mary and Oliver were visiting and I ended up staying for supper. I am hoping to be able to repay, in small measure, the Byrne hospitality on Wednesday evening.

Today it was a trip to Glasnevin Cemetery in Dublin. Mary Gilsenan came with me as she had never been there. We took the regular historical tour. Our guide was Paddy and he was excellent. We were a small group of about 15 people, mostly Irish but there were a couple of Americans and me. 

The day was very overcast and the chilliest yet. I'd worn four layers, all of which I needed. I was wishing I'd brought my toque. Standing in the cold wind while listening to the myriad of tales caused my knees to get stiff - along with pretty much every other part of me. We were rewarded with a lovely lunch (thank you Mary) of soup and brown bread followed by coffee and a macaroon.

Now that we were fortified with nourishment, we set out to find the grave of Arthur Byrne and his wife Bridget Corcoran. An online search had provided the information needed to find it. Staff at the Glasnevin Museum provided directions. I was not surprised to find that they were laid to rest in almost the farthest possible corner of the cemetery.

Over 1.6 million people of all religions and no religion, have been laid to rest there. That cemetery came into existence because of Daniel O'Connell - a tremendous hero in the Republic of Ireland. It has expanded greatly in the succeeding centuries. The records kept are meticulous and one can find every single person who was interred there. I learned that the surname Byrne is the most numerous among all of the "residents" of the cemetery. However I had enough details from research to find the right Byrne. 

We walked a few thousand steps and found a marked headstone which would have been about 8 to 10 feet from the resting place of Arthur and Bridget. They have no headstone and the area is not well cared for. I took a photo but will not include it here. Suffice it to say, we know where they are but it is very sad to see the spot.

Finally we made our way back to the car and stopped to view a few spots along the way. The military monuments to the Irish who fell in battle to save France were lovely and touching. The most difficult area is that of the Angels - burials of young children. It's possible that Arthur and Bridget's baby son Michael is among them but I have not found a record. I'll be in touch with the cemetery office to find out if that can be verified.

The trusty Autoaddress app got us safely out of Dublin. I only missed one turn, but bossy pants (the voice of Google maps) was able to tell me where to go. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

I spent an unproductive evening watching an episode of Midsommer Murders. Now it is time to retire with my book - and return briefly to the world of Three Pines. Louise Penny fans will know what that is. I'm re-reading her books while waiting for my name to come up with a copy of her latest book. It should arrive at the Ottawa Public Library around the time of my return. Hopefully I'll get it before Christmas.

And so to bed.