Day 4 - Historical County Meath Tour with My Ireland Family Heritage

Wednesday, 18 September 2019
We're up for another early start today, kicking off with some admiration of the sun rising over Trim Castle.

Ian is picking us up at 07:45 so we can get across to Bru na Boinne for the first tour of the day. Laughter and chat among the three of us on various subjects, including of course contextual information relating to the history of the area, sees the time pass in a jiffy but I have no clue of the direction we're heading or where we are at any given point. We note as we are passing through Navan that the building now occupied by the North Eastern Area Ambulance Service Headquarters used to be the local Workhouse and soon after we pull up for a quick photo from the car of the Donaghmore Round Tower.

Navan Workhouse, Co. Meath

Donaghmore Round Tower

Soon enough we pull into the car park at Bru na Boinne, there's plenty of spaces available just before 09:00 but it's filling quickly. The visitor centre is under renovation at the moment but meanwhile there's quite good portable facilities at the car park and a lady handing out bus boarding passes asking whether we want to go to Newgrange or both Newgrange and Knowth. Ian (our guide) has us organised and we're just visiting Newgrange. It's a walk down a beautiful shaded walkway to some stairs and the Visitor Centre which looks like work is nearing completion for an impressive grass roofed centre. We walk on across a bridge over the beautiful inky River Boyne and eventually come to where the buses are pulled up in a turning circle, a driver directing people to this bus or that.

 We've had tantalising glimpses of Newgrange as we've walked the path to the bus, but this does nothing to damp the excitement of seeing it sitting proudly at the top of the hill as we alight from the bus and walk up to the little hut and holding pen where we wait for our guided tour to start. As we wait I amuse myself by photographing some small birds who are sitting up in the top branches of a nearby tree, warming themselves in the morning sun. A young robin sits lower in the branches and sings for me, totally uninhibited by the long lens.

Newgrange

In due course our guide, joins us. He's an older man with a slight and rather classy eastern European accent. He is aided by a walking stick. Up close the monument is so beautifully finished, one of the questions that is often asked is when they added the quartz and stone finish to it. But no, this is original, over 5,000 years old. It looks like it was laid yesterday and it's a very stylish look.

It takes magnificent workmanship to last over 5,000 years!

We congregate out in front of the entrance for some initial warnings and information. No photos or videos inside, it's a confined space so if you're claustrophobic, consider if you want to continue. One lady immediately opts out, but our guide stops her - Before you decide not to go let me give you some more information" A detailed description of the space aspects of the experience given, she decides to give it a go, for which she is later very grateful. Probably the most emphasised point is that although lots of people have theories and have written books about their theories, NOONE knows what the purpose of this site actually was. Newgrange opens to the east, other nearby sites catch the western or other equinoxes. The technology between the light entrance and the people entrance is extraordinary.  Bags off our shoulders, backs or in any way around our body are removed and carrying them at knee height in front of us as instructed we head into the chamber. 

Entrance to Newgrange

The passage is narrow and a little convoluted as it leads us around a large boulder. Once in the central space which is tall and large enough for the 24 of us to be carefully positioned so each of us can see the light beam that will appear on the floor. There's three alcoves, it's believed these were put in place first and the monument built around them. The first to our immediate right contains a large stone that is slightly hollowed and holds another very large bowl shaped stone. The other two alcoves have stones on the floor but nothing larger. It's believed the ashes of the dead were placed in these alcoves.  Antique graffiti competes with the ancient decorative carvings in geometric patterns that the ancients applied. We are given ample warning before the lights are turned off, including advice about where to look if you are freaking out in the dark. After the light show it's time for questions and every question is answered comprehensively and with a tone of authority. This man is a superb guide. The technology of the construction is really impressive. They don't know how the huge perimeter boulders, which weigh between 1-10 tonnes were moved. the rocks that form the chamber are alternated large slabs over thinner slabs designed to fracture and ease the impact of the larger rocks being placed on top. The rocks slope to do as much as possible to waterproof the chamber. You don't get drips inside the chamber but you do get white calcification on the face of the rocks which is caused by slow water seepage over time.  It's a fascinating and awe inspiring place. Older than the pyramids in Egypt. A truly ancient place. 

Having emerged back into the light, we walk around the monument, which is decorated here and there by some pretty volunteer plants creeping delicately around the stones. Eventually, having loitered taking in the atmosphere, I hurry to catch up to the group so as not to delay, or indeed miss the bus back to base.  It's a shame to have to hurry from the bus up to meet Ian, the birds are singing in the trees along the path and if I had the day to our own devices, I'd be whipping out the binoculars and taking my time and doing the tour of Knowth as well. However, we do have a busy day planned so we walk purposefully on.
Our next stop is by the side of the road, where we pull up right next to a smallish dolmen, the precise location now escapes me but apparently these extraordinary arrangements of boulders are scattered around the landscape here and there, 190 in total around Ireland.  In this case, rather than being in a grassy paddock it's the centre piece of a pretty garden bed in a public park.
On we go and soon we're pulling into a pretty little lane and carpark with an adorable cottage beside a nicely kept graveyard. A nice man is resident in a little entrance gate hut and he greets us warmly before backing off when Ian come across from the car.

Muiredach's Cross at Monasterboice

This is Monasterboice. Ian takes us in and makes sure we notice the main claims to fame at this site - firstly let us examine this 5.5 metre high cross ornately carved with depictions of bible stories. The detail is somewhat blunted, but to be in even this condition after over 1000 years suggests that the original must have been truly superb. The round tower screams for attention and in due course we follow others who are climbing the stairs and having their photos taken. It's not really my scene to do such things but I climb up the stairs and smile for the camera when pressed. Another High Cross stands beside the tower in a challenging position for photography. What a shame the religious folk didn't consider this angle when putting the monument in position 😏.

With humans to give some scale - Monasterboice round tower and west cross

The most interesting thing for me with these towers was the clever construction methodology. They built them from the inside out, start with the base, construct a stair and internal structures and build the thick stone walls around it. It's beautiful craftsmanship. Doors are elevated in the side of the tower to make the tower less vulnerable to sappers. Small window ledges have formed a shelf for birds to build their nest.

What's this do you reckon?

In the ruins of a chapel, Ian points out an inconspicuous roundish rock with a bowl-like receptacle and some sharp straight parallel grooves across it. This doubled as sharpening stone for swords and a pestle for the religious to grind their herbs or grains. in the chinks between the rocks of the walls a pretty fern has latched on, eking a living from the moisture trapped in the crevices and nutrients it extracts from the soil trapped in pockets and even the rock itself.

Lastly we visit the sun dial, which has been modified to provide a core to hold the fracturing rock together and is protected behind a sturdy metal fence. Photos in the bag we head back to the car and one of the sites I have been really looking forward to.

Battle of the Boyne Visitor Centre

Battle of the Boyne Visitor Centre is schmick. It's on a grander scale than I was expecting. The car park is alongside some attractive stone buildings housing toilet facilities then we walk up a landscaped pathway to the open courtyard in front of in impressive heritage building that has been converted for the purpose. Old canons guard the entrance way. 

Inside, Ian explains the story to us, but really I'd rather be left in peace to read the panels. It's hard to think with someone chattering away. There are displays on the walls, some guns in display cases, mock ups of campaign tents with generously bewigged officers depicted consulting with one another about the battle. However far and away the best part of the displays was a 3D model of the landscape of the battle sight on which a light show explains the positioning of the troops on either side and the movements each formation made during the battle, it was simply brilliant and got across how the battle unfolded far more effectively than words or pictures alone could do.

We move out to the rear of the museum and find another large courtyard with a display of other canons and battle hardware. It's all beautifully presented and maintained. Our visit to the Battle of the Boyne has only taken us about 35-40 minutes. It may have taken me considerably longer had we been there on our own and more inclined to quietly contemplate and read the display boards more thoroughly or wander around on the battle field and defensive emplacements used for re-enactments, or indeed realise that there's a garden marked on the map - we missed that entirely. Oh dear.
Next we're off to Slane Abbey, which perhaps predictably, is positioned at the high point of another local hill.

We passed through the sheep gate and climb to the abbey ruins and prowl about for a while looking for photo opportunities as we hear of history dating as far back as St Patrick who lit a fire here. The buildings that are now ruins date from 1512. Hubby climbs the dark narrow tower on uneven stairs to an expansive view over the ruined Abbey and off into the distance.

View from the tower at Slane Abbey

Slane Abbey

Ian asks me to guess how they made the stone vaults.  I think about it and if built today I'd say they would have used a frame to hold the bricks in place until the lockstone is laid then remove it, but I'm puzzled by the timeframe. Given my hesitation in replying Ian goes on to the explanation. Like today they did indeed use formwork but they used woven hazel wands supported by posts. This was flexible and re-usable. It's marvellous what is done with coppiced hazel and willow. Puzzling why those skills seem to have been lost in the derivative culture in Australia. We should revive it. I'm really not into ruins but Ian's guiding has really enhanced our experience of Slane Abbey.

We stroll down the hill, heading in the direction of lunch via Slane Castle, an iconic outdoor rock concert venue. Apparently anyone who's anyone has played Slane Castle, crowds 80,000 strong arrayed around a natural amphitheatre. Expats have been known to come home especially to attend a gig there of a favourite band.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before we reach Slane we again pass through Janeville and the Mural celebrating 100 years since the death of Francis Ledwidge in the third battle of Ypre in 1917. Time over I'd visit the museum about him. We are rather fond of visiting museums about local poets. Indeed, reviewing this entry at the end of our trip now we're home, not stopping at this museum is one of my biggest regrets for this trip. Looking at the museum website, Ledwidge's poem titled June seems a very fitting description of the weather over the last several days. Yes, I deeply regret not stopping in Janeville. I could blame letting someone else choose the itinerary but to be fair, I didn't have Ledwidge's museum on my own draft for the ancient east either. Silly.

June      

Broom out the floor now, lay the fender by,

And plant this bee-sucked bough of woodbine there,

And let the window down. The butterfly

Floats in opun the sunbeam, and the fair

Tanned face of June, the nomad gipsy, laughts

Above her widespread wares,the while she tells

The farmer's fortunes in the fields, and quaffs

The water from the spider-peopled wells.

The hedges are all drowned in green grass seas,

And bobbing poppies flare like Elmo's light

While siren-like the pollen-stained bees

Drone in the clover depths. And up the height

The cuckoo's voice is hoarse and broke with joy.

And on the lowland crops the crows make raid,

Nor fear the clappers of the farmer's boy,

Who sleeps, like drunken Noah, in the shade.

And loop this red rose in that hazel ring

That snares your little ear, for June is short 

And we must joy in it and dance and sing,

And from her bounty draw her rosy worth.

Ay! soon the swallows will be flying south,

The wind wheel north to gather in the snow

Even the roses spilt on youth's red mouth

Will soon blow down the road all roses go. 

I'm pretty happy with that given it was taken from the car in a hurry as we
were stopped by the roadworks and traffic

Our lunch venue is the Headfort Arms in Kells, this is another very atmospheric, upmarket venue where Ian knows the food is reliable. We are served by an older lady who will be heading down under to the Melbourne Cup, flying first class no less. That's definitely the way to do it. I decide to go for the brie and cherry tomato quiche while Hubby and Ian tuck into roast Turkey with baked vegetables. The food is nice and consumption slowed by chat.
Back in the sunlight, we're not done with Kells yet. We park in a street of quaint and well maintained cottages among which is another ancient building, this time a 10th century oratory that is in surprisingly good condition. To be honest I'm just as interested in the fruiting currant whose berries are shining like jewels int he sunlight above the fence

...and the Handball club across the road. You have handball clubs here? Yep, and a competitive competition league. What! If we have that in Australia I've not heard of it. A little googling and I find there is indeed competitive handball outside the schoolyard in Australia too. Who knew?
Not far away the Spire of Loyd and the adjacent famine pauper's graveyard is our next stop. The destitute would head to the workhouse if for no other reason that their expectation of being buried in a coffin. The coffin was just a loan to transport the body to the burial ground then the corpse was tipped into the grave, quicklime sprinkled over and the coffin returned for the next poor soul. The destitution of the poor contrasts with the extravagance of the lighthouse folly. But we need to make tracks. We're aiming to be back at Trim for the last tour of the day there.

Looking down on one of the models of Trim Castle

We jump out of the car at the entrance to the Castle while Ian finds a parking spot. We wander about briefly among a group of noisy schoolkids and wait for the tour to start. Trim Castle is largely ruined, but there's enough left to support some modern walkways at various levels to bring you to the top of the castle and resulting views.  I've toured a few castles now but I still learned some things at Trim, particularly as our guide, Gerry, takes us through the three models of the castle at various points in history. Apparently they had wooden structures cantilevered on the exterior sides of the castle which if under attack and they caught fire, could simply be dropped onto the assailants below as a flaming barrier.  Ingenious. Gerry starts off fairly restrained but as he gets into it, he is very engaging and entertaining. Amazingly the castle was covered in Ivy and weeds for hundreds of years, a veritable sleeping beauty's hideaway, until the owner allowed it to be cleaned up and opened to visitors in the 1960s.

A handy breeze sprang up to lift the flag at just the right moment

...there's a new job we learned about too, apparently in order to make the garderobes work properly some poor creature had to jump down into the cesspit and stir the human waste and filth to make the fumes rise to fumigate the clothes hanging above. There's no commentary about the likely lifespan of these poor sods, it can't have been long, surely. I wonder how they prevented cholera if people were wading about in shit on a regular basis. Perhaps cholera wasn't in these parts in those days. A brief check of the History of Cholera and I find that no, it wasn't. The first major outbreaks of Cholera were in India hundreds of years later.  

It's getting on now but we've still one more stop to go before we head back to Dublin. I've been very much looking forward to this one too. Tara. It seems rather fitting that some alternative lifestylers seem to have set themselves up for a comfortable stop in the car park. We have a quick look at the information boards near the entrance path, before we walk up into the sun, lowering now as it heads for the horizon. We look at the formation known as the Banquet Hall but thought more likely an ancient road or pathway,  Ian talks to us about the site as we walk. It's not until we are standing in the highest mounds surrounded by the earthworks that the site can be fully appreciated. It is here that I am most affected by the ancient and perhaps mystic significance of this place. We head across for a photo opportunity at the Mound of Hostages then start heading back to the car through the dim shaded grounds of an old church. I linger behind as we emerge out into the sun. Some quiet time here in the golden light of the dying day is called for. You can't hear any place speak to you if you're not quiet and listening. A piper is now standing on a high section of ground playing The Dark Island. She's a silhouette in the golden sunset, her haunting music making an emotional connection to this moment in this place. I am grateful. The Hill of Tara is not so much a sight as an experience. I walk towards her, keen to capture the moment and immerse myself in the music. 

Piper on the Hill of Tara

It feels like a pretty quick dash back to Premier Inn at Dublin Airport where we are having a quiet night. Just as well. We are shattered. I'm literally falling asleep waiting for our meals. We've covered a lot of ground but it's been a long and exhausting day. 

Day 3 - My Ireland Family Heritage Tour

Tuesday, 17 September 2019
Somewhat better night last night, but we've still got a way to go to really hit our stride on the sleeping front. Today we need to be up and organised for an 8 am pick up by Ian of My Ireland Family Heritage for an Ancestral Homelands tour. This tour has been eye-wateringly expensive but the reviews online are excellent. It sounds too good to be true and you know what they say about things that sound too good to be true.
Before we check out of the Temple Bar Hotel I guess I should say a few words about the breakfast. It's good. The pastries are very fresh and I find that's a pretty good litmus test for a hotel breakfast. Hubby's not having too much success resisting the full Irish when it's available. I've been no more successful trying to eat sensibly while sticking with the continental. This morning we both resist the pastries (gasp).
When we finally get downstairs Ian is parked out front waiting a little ahead of time, but it's a little after eight before Michael's done with reception.
We're away. We start with a little loop around either side of the Liffey and Ian gives us a rapid fire explanation of the bridges and other sights along the way. The Ha'penny Bridge taunts us as Ian asks did we cross it?  One for next time. The Ist Duke of Wellington brought in the iron for it. Yes, the man of infamy who is so often quoted as having said when it was observed that he was born in Ireland so doesn't that make him Irish, replied "being born in a stable does not make you a horse." We've had this told to us a few times during our stay, but Wikiquotes says that this is misattributed. The earliest record of this statement was by Irish Politician Daniel O'Connell about Wellesley rather than by Wellesley about himself.
As we pass the council building a finger of accusation is pointed in its direction once more with "That should never have been built!" followed by a very quick explanation of why and indications of strong agreement from all present. We proceed like this down as far as Heuston Station and cross over and head downstream along the quays. Note that the Wellington monument in Phoenix Park has panels on the side cast from the melted down guns captured at the battle of Waterloo.  Up past what was a military barracks but now Museum of Decorative Arts and History. Passing now Croppie's Acre - so called because they buried the 1798 Rebels there. They called them croppies for the style in which they wore their hair. Wikipedia reckons that they displayed some rebels bodies there tied to pikes at the burial location and that archaeological investigations have found no evidence of this plot having been used as a burial ground. It notes that the alignment of the Liffey was altered in this area to extend the quays and that this site was used as a playing field for the barracks. Either way, it's a nice thing to have a memorial to the Battle of Vinegar Hill and those executed. The convict rebellion dubbed the Second Battle of Vinegar Hill occurred at Rouse Hill in Sydney in 1804 so my ears always prick up when anything around the 1798 rebellion is discussed. On we go past the Four Courts where our genealogical records were destroyed by fire in 1922 during fighting related to the civil war.
Our city tour isn't restricted to the proud places of Dublin, having noted one such ugly building, heading away from the Liffey we pass the memorial to James Connolly and travel around behind the Custom House to admire the splendid ugliness of the Busaras Central Station on which was spent rather a lot of money. I observe that even more than the architecture, the problem seems to be that the materials used have not worn well.  We drive up and over in the distance the rim of Croke Park is visible so we discuss Gaelic football and Aussie Rules football (AFL). I didn't know that Gaelic Football is a source of players for the professional AFL but Hubby is more aware of that. We take a quick look at Bram Stocker's birthplace and childhood home and head on to the motorway and the north.
Our first stop is a service centre for the motorway where we take a toilet break and grab a bite to eat and a drink and head back on our way past Drogheda. When we were at Vaults Live there was a mention of Drogheda as we were welcomed. Irish among our group pointedly corrected pronunciation by our guide and I got a sense that mispronunciation of this town name is like fingernails on a chalkboard to local people. I studied Ian's references to Drogheda across the two days we are together and I think I've got it down pat. It's Drahda with a very slight gutteral catch in the middle.

On through Newry and the distance flies as we chat and laugh together, then suddenly we're pulling up at the Drumlough Gospel Hall. It's a tidy building and gravel yard with a small graveyard.  We drive in and get ourselves organised, I don my white sunhat and we walk down to the rear of the block and peer out over the wall. The weather is about as good as weather gets anywhere on earth and so is the scenery. Wow.  "I told yus it was gorgeous scenery". "Yes, It most certainly is".

The Mountains of Mourne loom in the distance and in between is green fecundity. Ian pulls out his folder of maps in sleeves and his phone and lines up what is showing on the phone with the illustration the right spot and which plot of hedgerowed field was apparently occupied by my relatives back in the day. They rented of course. You wouldn't leave this land if you owned this! We spend some time checking out particular plots and tracing back on the phone to current maps. Get a shot of the two of us with the scenery, then we're back in the car and heading for Rathfriland.

Rathfriland in the distance on the top of a nearby hill

It's always deceptive looking at two dimensional maps and sometimes really surprising when you arrive on the ground. Rath means a ringfort so it's not a great leap to the liklihood that a town named Rathfriland would be in an elevated position and it is. As the town centre is at the top of the hill, the main streets inevitably take a downward trend with beautiful views in every direction. The township has an air of quiet middle class comfort. It's well presented with a tidy town square and memorials at either end with parking in between. We spend some time looking at familiar family names on the war memorial. Which is nice. I like paying my respects at war memorials but as an exercise in genealogy it's a bit ho hum. A big deal is made of the name George Morrow being present on his own large stone at the base of the memorial.  One of my 4th great grandmothers was a Morrow who would have been born about 1800, so anyone named Morrow in the Great War or later would at best be a very distant relative.

Rathfriland War Memorial

Happy to move on from Rathfriland we head out of town a short way to Monegore Road and a building now labelled Moneygore Orange Hall 1948. This is a replacement to the National School as shown on Griffiths Valuation. I wander about photographing the marvellous views across to the mountains and some lovely old buildings across the road.

Some bees and other insects hover about flowers in the hedgerow, it is an idyllic scene. Oh how my forebears must have yearned for this place, that they were destined never to see again. Life must have been very hard despite the natural beauty of the area. No prospects of security or financial comfort. Why else would you leave. I wander down the road and return. Then we drive back down and pause again to gaze across at some additional plots occupied by persons who had surnames with which we are familiar.

Residence of Alexander Anderson and Joseph Morrow as recorded in Griffith's Valuation

Neither ourselves or Ian are sure why people named Irwin are highlighted in our copy of Griffiths Valuation. Some of the plots of interest to us are not accessible from the road. There's still some sensibilities in Protestant areas of Northern Ireland to persons with Republic of Ireland number plates wandering about, so some caution is apparently required.

Further along, seeking the closest vantage point to the plots in areas where we can't really access them from the road, I walk up past a farm where the squeals of pigs send shivers up my spine. We've only just been joking and laughing about never cross a pig farmer.  Then the almightly scream of an alarm going off and I head back for the car which Ian has driven up behind me. We're up the hill looking at some more distant buildings and one nearer the road that would have been similar to the sort of dwelling my forebears would have lived in. Quaint now perhaps, if one images a 100,000 or so to renovate and perhaps modernise.

Time is getting on and well and truly lunch time, so Ian takes us into Maginns in Castewellan. As we walk into the sombre light from the bright sunshine we find a complex layout richly decorated and choose a table down towards the rear, a large TV playing sports and a beautiful lead light ceiling overhead.  Lunch is on Ian (I should think so given the cost of the tour). We each had a small serve of seafood chowder with homemade wheaten bread. I followed with the daily special of  Cod Coujons with mushy peas, chips and tartare sauce. Michael (predictably) went for the King Prawn Linguine with garlic, coriander and lemon balm, double cream and a slice of garlic ciabatta. The chips were pretty ordinary but the rest of the food was very nice. Michael won that one, his linguine was lovely.

Ballyroney Presbyterian Church

I think I could handle being laid to rest in this spot for eternity

Back on the road we are into the part of the day where we wander about cemeteries looking for surnames we recognise. One was a large grey stone Ballyroney Presbyterian church, where the dead have a better view than most people living, then we're onto the church of most interest: Ist Rathfriland Presbyterian.

Ist Rathfriland Presbyterian dates from the 17th Century

There's a man mowing the grass in the lower area of the graveyard. It's a beautiful location once again the slope of the ground overlooking the countryside. We photograph gravestones of varying interest. It's good to be here. I have a nice little chat with the groundsman, he's friendly and tackles the maintenance in stages. All the graveyards we've visited are beautifully cared for. As we return back up to the church, the minister is present (just by coincidence) and talking to Ian who introduces us. Soon we're invited in to look around inside the church. Once again we have a lovely conversation, us foreigners reasonably oblivious to some political undercurrents as we discuss everything from the weather to Brexit to the upcoming Harvest Festival. Unfortunately my family left Ireland too early to be of much use to a local history project they've got going focusing on more recent events. We discuss the architecture of the church, Trevor having asked us about churches in Australia. In Australia you don't see this arrangement with a second level, not in Christian churches anyway. This church would originally have been built without the mezzanine section which was added to increase capacity. Upstairs you have limited visibility which was fine for the religious practice so long ago when all that was needed was to be able to see the bible and minister, but nowadays technology is used to give greater visibility of goings on downstairs to those above.

Margaret Anderson, lawful daughter of Joseph Anderson and Sarah McCullough was baptised here in 1842

 It's a wonderful thing to be able to be within the church where my 2 x Great Grandmother was baptised as an infant. This we know for certain to be true.
We end the day checking out the graveyards of 2nd and 3rd Presbyterian with mixed results before jumping back in the car and heading for Trim, where we have a dinner reservation for 7 pm. We'll be late.

Checked in to the Trim Castle Hotel we dart across the road to the Stockhouse Restaurant. Running somewhat late for our reservation, for which we are mildly chastised. They thought we weren't coming and there's a little wait for a table after which we are seated at one that was free all along.  Neither of us is very hungry due to the huge lunch. I go for a serve of bruschetta with buffalo mozzarella, sundried tomato and basil pesto, this we can share, followed by another starter, Fish cakes made from fresh cod, salmon and crab meat in a sesame crumb, chilli, coriander and lime mayonnaise, rocket and pesto dressing. Michael chose Lamb Cutlets cooked medium well. We amuse ourselves while we wait for our meals by reading the signs used to decorate the room. Intended to be funny, some are and some are well past their use by date. Food was OK. Michael's main arrives with four cutlets, I think I could have cooked them better based on appearance. I'm not tempted to try them. Fortunately, Hubby's not as fussy as I am.The most amazing thing about dinner was that they have alcohol free Heineken. We don't have that at home. It smelled good, Hubby says "yeah, it was alright". We're exhausted though. We head back to our hotel room, admire the view of the castle again briefly and fall into bed. I'm asleep in moments.
So what's the verdict on the My Ireland Family Heritage Tour that sounded too good to be true? Well, yes, as a geneological exercise it's a complete crock, as I suspected. It's an exercise in compiling stacks of information, but there's nothing whatever in the way of proper geneological analysis of the information provided. It's enough to bluff the uninitiated or  provide those who simply do not have enough information to track down their specific origins in Ireland a sense of connection and get people out off the beaten track into the "real" Ireland. In my case, we do know precisely where in Ireland my 2 x great grandmother and her parents were from. I already have the baptismal records from Ist Rathfriland, along with details of extended family names that clustered together took us pretty emphatically to the townland of Moneygore. I was curious what else they may have to say and really was just looking for a guide on the day to help us find the precise locations in Griffiths Valuations and add some contextual commentary along the way.  Ian was a charming guide for our days and we enjoyed our time with him so that my objective there was realised. The company sells their services on the fact that they arrange to have churches open and so forth, however in our case our being able to see inside Ist Rathfriland was a complete coincidence and not preplanned. To some extent this appeared to be due to tensions around Northern Ireland v Republic, My Ireland Family Heritage being based in the Republic of course, they seemed pretty wary wandering around in Loyalist areas of Northern Ireland.
To justify the very high price tag, the company puts together a little package of souvenir materials and a beautifully bound book of records and contextual information. As it turns out though, the book that was provided to me was a bit less than expected in terms of what was included. Some entries for the Townland of Moneygore were included but not first page for Moneygore which provided the most likely record for my 4 x Great Grandmother who we know was widowed and still living in Rathfriland at the time the Griffith's Valuation was done. On the other hand the book did include a lovely page about Ellis Island, which of course, doesn't go down well with an Australian client. The book also stated that the client had done no previous research, which was patently untrue. In fact I offered what we know to the company and they refused to accept it, saying they don't rely on the research of anyone else, they do it all from scratch. I have challenged My Ireland Family Heritage on what I regard as a fairly colossal failure in the book, and have received a reply from the researcher, but it's just more spin that does not address my compliant. So, I guess it just depends what you're looking for and how much you're happy to spend, but go in with your eyes open as to what you are paying for. I should also note, that these days, you can access Griffith's Valuation for free online INCLUDING a map of the townlands and a slide that lets you look at the modern day map against the townland maps. So My Ireland Family Heritage's claim that you could never find the locations by yourself is complete and utter rubbish.

Day 2 - Kilmainham Gaol and errands North of the Liffey

Monday, 16 September 2019
Unfortunately we have had a very bad night. Naturally we woke according to Sydney time, and of course I had an alarming thought pop into my head and stupidly got up to try to resolve what I thought was an easy issue before going back to sleep. Nope, what we got was meltdown due to photo download problems. No sleep at all after about 00:30 local time. That not sorted, we head down to brekkie (breakfast) a mess of fatigue related confusion about day and time. We must have spent a good 5 minutes trying to figure out why google was saying the time now in Sydney is late Monday afternoon when it is Sunday here in Dublin. Michael suggests checking the newspaper in the hotel lobby. Eventually the penny drops that oh, actually today IS Monday. Which would also explain why google was giving us store opening times for Monday AND why people yesterday were referring to it being Sunday. Well dah!  I have a brief moment of panic while I wonder if we're late for whatever it is we're doing today given that my brain was somewhere in the far reaches of the planet Jupiter.
This morning we are booked at Kilmainham Gaol for the first tour of the day. It's still drizzling, so we opt to take a taxi from the taxi stand on the Liffey side of Aston Quay. We have a lovely chat with the beautifully Irish accented driver throughout the trip of about 10 mins for about 10 euros.
The area around Kilmainham is lovely and there's a beautiful green fragrance in the damp air. My mood lifts as Hubby hurries me across the road to the entrance of the Gaol. The Gaol is housed in a surprisingly elegant building, and the hotel across the street is modern without jarring with the historical icon so close nearby.  Well done.

Inside we display our tickets purchased online and are directed to a court room to wait, each of our group settled on seats around the room. At the appointed time our guide joins us and we begin the tour, wandering out and across an open yard into the corridors of the gaol, having been warned of low doorways and uneven floors designed to impede any rampaging or escaping prisoner's progress. We walk down narrow corridors where doors, locks and paintwork bear a patina of age. We stop to hear about the general prison regime, (bat shit crazy) theories of criminal rehabilitation and the role of the gaol over time from it's construction to during the famine when beggars in Dublin were arrested and brought to Kilmainham, initially considering it a relief because at least in gaol there was food.

We visit the dimly lit chapel. It was here that Joseph Plunkett and Grace Gifford were married and our guide describes the service and their time together before his execution in 1916. I am SO, SO glad I read Irish history and in particular Morgan Llywelyn's Irish Century series before coming to Ireland and here to this place. Llywelyn does a marvellous job of bringing the history to life with a mix of fictional and historical characters. Best of all she includes references for factual elements of the story she weaves representing the diversity of people who contributed to the struggle for independence. Any visitor would surely feel compassion for a young couple marrying in such circumstances but knowing a little more about the leadership roles those executed played in the rising, and the role that their widows and other female relatives continued to play in the republican struggle certainly adds depth to the experience of being here.

everything in the design is about control of Prisoners

We arrive at a suspended gallery where we learn of the thinking behind the design, narrow walkways with rails and open grills for floors, I don't need a word from our guide to  be moved by the names above the doors, though he does point them out in due course, Willie and Patrick Pearse, brothers in cells side by side. A brief introduction to Patrick Pearse and his immense talents, comes with a recommendation to start with his Poetry.  Joe Plunkett's cell is here on the end of the row, this is where he and Grace spent the 10 minutes of their married life together. This area has the highest concentration of  the cells of the 1916 martyrs to the republican cause.

The doors to the cells are crusty with age, as rich in texture as the stories and the men and women they confined. On the opposite side of this gallery there's Constance Marcievicz's cell, though she ultimately escaped execution. It is such a privilege to see this place.
We move through passages led by our guide and assemble in a larger, more comfortable cell that could fit 4 or 5. There's a plaque on the wall of Robert Emmett and his name is above the door. Our guide recommends we seek out Robert Emmet's Speech from the Dock made in 1803 prior to his sentencing for high treason due to his leadership of (yet another) rebellion against British rule in Ireland. Apparently there's an excellent reading of it on YouTube.

We move on to the large open interior space, star of several movies and Kilmainham promotional materials. It's usage is explained and we see Grace Gifford's own cell that she occupied later as brother turned on brother (and sister) in the dreadful and bloody civil war following the signing of the Treaty and the creation of the Irish Free State. We peer through the spy hole to see the Kilmainham Madonna that Grace painted on the walls of her cell. High above a door on an upper floor the name of Eamon De Valera draws my eye and lens.

Our final stop of the tour is in a high walled yard with large wooden gates to the streets outside, closed against intrusion or escape. There are two black crosses at either end of the yard, a crunch of gravel under our feet, sombre tears from heaven damping our cheeks where our own could easily replace them. It is in this space that the execution of the 1916 leaders took place and our guide describes the events as our group listens in respectful silence and for some of us at least, a good deal of sorrow at what Ireland lost in the execution of these men who had so much to contribute to a free Ireland.  Instead their legacy is the inspiration they have provided to their fellow countrymen and women. A gift of immeasurable value.

Tour concluded we exit through an open doorway that leads to a courtyard with iron railings facing the street outside. THIS is why I travel. It's for places and experiences like this. Time for a quick look at the museum, my pre-trip reading saves me time here too.
Towards the end of my exploration I wander down a dimly lit corridor where quiet alcoves reverently display personal items relating to the 1916 martyrs.  Most affecting was the inclusion of Joe Plunkett's eye glasses.

We head in through a doorway to a particularly excellent gift shop, SO much temptation, then we take the easy route again and take another taxi back to town for our next item on our agenda: camera store! I had been going to head to Dublin Castle next, but sight seeing this afternoon is shelved in favour of errands.

Card reader in hand, photo upload problems apparently sorted, our next errand is to acquire a SIM, with a better deal than mine, for Hubby's phone. Luckily we head for Vodafone which takes us over the Liffey past the GPO.  Well! Isn't this a lucky thing. This side of the river is much nicer, giving a totally different experience of Dublin city. The GPO is great to see for a student of 1916 because it was a key site of combat, ultimately having to be rebuilt due to the extensive damage.

"And tyranny trampled them in Dublin's gutter until Jim Larkin came along and cried the call of
freedom and the call of pride and slavery crept to its hands and knees and 1913 cheered from out the utter
degradation of their miseries" Patrick Cavanagh

A statue of Larkin stands with his arms raised to the sky, the plinth recording quotes of others about the great man and referencing the Dublin Lock-out of 1913, generally regarded as the most severe and significant industrial dispute in Ireland's history.
Then there's the Spire of course which replaced a statue of Nelson similar to that found in Trafalgar Square after it was blown up by person or persons with republican hearts.
There are SO many donut outlets in Dublin. My goodness Dubliners and/or visitors here must simply be obsessed with donuts.
At Vodafone Hubby is happily transacting and I make the mistake of asking a question about the SIM deal I got at the airport, specifically I want to know if I can use it in the UK, which was not obvious at the time of purchase. We are subjected to a lengthy and passionate lecture to the effect of DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT buy SIMs at airports or train or bus terminals they are a scam. And if by chance you didn't hear me the first seven times, DO NOT repeat do NOT buy SIMs from airports.  I slink away, shamed at my obvious stupidity.  But on a happy note, next door is Butler's chocolates. They deserve a visit if for no other reason  than their great description of their services proudly displayed on their facade.

...look closely... click on this photo so you can read the small print if you need to.

Hubby's keen to take the laptop, which we needed at the camera store, back to the hotel, but we're hungry and I want GOOD food this time. A little research and we're walking on to Parnell Street to eat at 147 Deli.  Yep, revues are right. Worth the walk.

Nicely sated we head for "home" stopping along the way to sample a couple of the donut outlets.  Hot cinnamon sugar sour dough donuts and some other filled ones among which the sour cherry was a definite leader.

Anxiety about photo management wins when I am back at the hotel. I set about using the new card reader and again am thrown into despair as the SD card from the EOSM5 fails to read. Lots of great images from inside EPIC and Kilmainham Gaol are inaccessible. You can imagine my distress I am sure, compounded by exhaustion. Eventually I find my peace with it and resolve to get some sleep.
By now we are well and truly beyond help on the exhaustion front. We set the timer for the musical pub crawl we have booked for tonight. The alarm goes off after only about an hour. We curse it. Quiet it. And go back to sleep. We are waaaaay beyond anything but sleep tonight.