The Irish Castle Dedicated to Isis

Posted on January 9, 2021 by johnshortlandwriter

The children’s bikes in the entrance porch casually propped against four aged-stone saintly figures tells you in an instant that a visit to Huntington Castle [see footnote] is likely to be memorable. They also act as a reminder that this historic, four-hundred-year-old castle near Clonegal, Ireland is also very much a present-day family home.

*Huntington Castle*, Co. Carlow, Ireland

Built in 1625, it held a strategic position on the trade route between Dublin and Wexford but fell to the invading (English) Cromwellian army in 1650. By the time of its capture much of the garden as seen today had been laid out.

*The oldest part of the castle viewed from the gardens*

*the gardens have a timeless feel about them…*

As might be expected of a grand country house, the castle has its fair share of richly decorated rooms and it is possible to visit these during the summer months subject to any Covid-19 restrictions that may be in force, of course. However, it is the basement cellars of the castle that hold the biggest surprise for it is here that you will find the Temple of Isis. The Fellowship of Isis, founded in 1976 by members of the family was, in 1993, recognised as a world faith, the first time that the Goddess had been internationally acknowledged. I have always considered myself to be open to alternative beliefs and cultures but, to be honest, I found the Temple and its purpose difficult to understand or appreciate. For me, the decor and artefacts were too theatrical, almost farcical. I half-expected Angela Lansbury’s Mrs Salome Otterbourne from the film Death on the Nile to appear from behind one of the wall hangings. However, I am obviously wrong as there is a worldwide following of over 24,000 in a hundred countries or more.

My real appreciation of Huntington Castle came from exploring the grounds which are quite beautiful. For the photographer, opportunities abound for around every corner there is a vista or ancient building vying for the title of most picturesque. The castle itself is better appreciated from the outside too, for there are numerous ‘odd’ windows and contrasts of building materials tucked away and waiting to be noticed – the result of centuries of alterations and extensions.

*a mish-mash of building materials and styles gives the castle added charm*

*around every corner a photo opportunity!*

I came away from Huntington Castle somewhat confused. In some ways, I felt a little let down by it, in others quite uplifted. Would I visit again? Most definitely. For it is its quirkiness, eccentricity, ancient trees and moss-encrusted stones that leave you slightly unsettled making the visit all the more worthwhile.

For more information on visiting or even staying at Huntington Castle visit https://www.huntingtoncastle.com/

To discover more about the Fellowship of Isis follow this link by visiting https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fellowship_of_Isis

[Note: Rather confusingly Huntington Castle is also called Clonegal Castle – sometimes even in the same article or website!]

The Silent Stones of Baltinglass

Posted on October 12, 2019 by johnshortlandwriter

One and a half hours drive southwest of Dublin and close to the Wicklow and Carlow counties of Ireland lies the small town of Baltinglass. When I visited briefly a week or so ago, the town centre seemed very empty of people which gave it a certain charm as well as the impression that you didn’t come here if in need of excitement. Google searches appear to confirm it – a website that seems to have last been updated in 2013; even the Wicklow tourism website couldn’t find much to say that would bring the hordes flocking. Although these are all reasons why I would rather like it there is also another very good reason to visit Baltinglass and that is the remains of the Cistercian abbey founded in 1148 by the King of Leinster, Dermot Mac Murrough.

Baltinglas Abbey, Co. Wicklow (16) watermark

The dramatic entrance to Baltinglass Abbey

Baltinglas Abbey, Co. Wicklow (8) watermark

Today, the ruins consist mainly of the church although there would have been dormitories and other domestic buildings for the monks but of these there is no visible trace. The rather fine tower is of much more recent age for another church was built within the ruins in 1815, itself becoming obsolete by the 1880s.

Baltinglas Abbey, Co. Wicklow (5) watermark

The ruined tower of the 19th century church set within the much older ruins of the abbey

Many of the capitals of the stone pillars are heavily carved with decorations that are similar to the abbey ruins of Jerpoint 40 miles to the south. However, the finest of the stone carvings can be found mounted in a doorway – the tomb lid of James Grace who died 23^rd February 1605, sixty-nine years after Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monastery. There are numerous other and later graves within the ruins but none as fine as the Grace memorial, for it continued to be used as a graveyard right up to recent times.

Baltinglas Abbey, Co. Wicklow (9) watermark

The intricately carved coffin lid of James Grace

Baltinglas Abbey, Co. Wicklow (10) watermark

Detail of the James Grace coffin lid

Entry to the ruins is free and compared to many other historic sites, little visited. Certainly, at the time of my visit, I was the only person exploring them. This gives the perfect opportunity to explore at length and to absorb the abbey’s silent history. Although the site is quite small, there are countless interesting features to be discovered and the equally tranquil River Slaney is just a field away, a place for yet further quiet contemplation.

Baltinglas Abbey, Co. Wicklow (4) watermark

A Year in Review: Jan- Jun 2015

Posted on December 28, 2015 by johnshortlandwriter

So another year has gone by and as New Year’s Eve fast approaches it is time to reflect on the one past and look forward to the one to come.

I try to visit Exmoor National Park as often as possible for I consider it to be “home from home”. I spent a lot of my youth and early adulthood there on a remote farm not realising that I was witnessing a way of life now gone. With the benefit of hindsight I wish I’d taken many more photographs but, in the days before digital, films were both precious and expensive.

binder copyright

In January, I made a special trip to take a look at the new headquarters of the Exmoor Society in the pretty, little town of Dulverton. The enlarged space that they now have has meant that they it is now much easier to access the archives and seek information. If you are planning a holiday on the moor, it is well worth visiting. Click here to find out more about my day there.

February found me walking along the edge of a precipice and seeking an elderly great-aunt, fortunately not at the same time. I met Ba-ba (how she got this name is still a complete mystery) once as a boy when she was in her late nineties and she left a lasting impression on me. With everyone else that knew her now dead (I’m now the ‘old’ generation) I’ve been trying to research her. Despite the post creating a lot of interest it ended sadly without much success. Perhaps, this post might reach someone who knows who she was. To check out the detective work so far take a look here.

The Precipice Walk in Snowdonia, although not overly strenuous, is not to be attempted by the faint-hearted. Travelling clockwise, the path clings to the edge of the drop before turning back on itself alongside a more gentle and peaceful lake. If you’re afraid of heights go anti-clockwise for a delightful, if somewhat short, walk and turn around when you dare go no further. Alternatively, sit back in your armchair and take a look at the photos here.

A much longer walk, completely different in character, was described in two March posts. Dartmoor is another national park in the West Country but much harsher than Exmoor. Despite its bleakness now, in the past the climate was kinder, confirmed by the large number of Neolithic remains there.

The walk starts at a pub where according to tradition the fire has never been allowed to go out in the past two hundred years. Our path crosses the moor to the village of Postbridge, home of the famous medieval stone clapper bridge. The second part of the walk follows the river before continuing across the moor, taking in beehive huts dating back to 1500AD before arriving at the Grey Wethers stone circles. The twin circles are about two thousand years old. Reaching the stones is described here.

The history of the United States and Ireland are intertwined by mass emigration. In April I visited New Ross in the south of Ireland and the birthplace of John F Kennedy’s great-grandfather. Fifty years after JFK’s visit his sister came to light… Well, read here to find out exactly what she did. The image below might give you a clue.

I stayed with the Irish theme in May and wrote about the lovely village of Castlelyons where a friend spent her early childhood. Well off the tourist trail when you red about the place you’ll wonder why. In the meantime, we had the place to ourselves.

June is a lovely month both for walking and also for garden lovers, with hedgerows and gardens smothered in rose blossom. Continuing the theme of elderly ladies and ancient times the month’s post explored the history of Rosa de Rescht – fascinating for the mystery it holds. Incidentally, even if you a hopeless gardener (and no-one is completely so) this is the simplest of roses to grow…

Castleyons – an Irish Gem

Posted on May 19, 2015 by johnshortlandwriter

The small village of Castlelyons in Co. Cork, Ireland appeared deserted when we drove into it and as we seemed to be the only car on the road there was no fear of being run over when taking the photo below. As if to confirm its silence the main street was dominated by the ruins of an old Carmelite abbey.

Little is known of the origins of the abbey for there are few surviving written records. It is thought that it dates from the beginning of the 14^th century although the existing ruins are from a hundred years later.

The size of the nave is huge measuring over sixty feet in length and twenty in width. It is separated from the chancel by the tower which although very ruined still has its complete spiral staircase which can be climbed – but not for the faint-hearted. The chancel which is also very large (over fifty feet in length) is where the altar would have been placed. A number of grave slabs survive some of which still have visible markings.

The cloister, where the monks walked and meditated, is less complete but the turf square and parts of columns gives a sense of the place. The monastery was dissolved during the Reformation and passed into private hands. Now it is a national monument.

A mile or two from the abbey ruins is the Castlelyons Graveyard at Kill-St-Anne. At its centre is a mausoleum built about 1747. The interior is circular with just one marble monument to James Barry, Earl of Barrymore and carved in 1753. External steps lead to a crypt below.

Close to the first lies a second mausoleum, also built in the eighteenth century, for the Peard family, local landlords. Their earliest grave (dated 1683) lies elsewhere in the churchyard and commemorates Richard Peard, an ensign from Devonshire in England.

The church – or more accurately churches – lie in ruins for a more recent one was built within the original. They date from the eighteenth and fourteenth centuries respectively. The remains of the bell tower and gothic arches are from the earlier date, the elaborate stone window which are in the later ruins are reputed to have belonged to the original church. Whatever the truth of this tale, the result is beautiful and romantic.

The churchyard is a haven for wildlife and native flowers flourish beside mown paths. Beside the old cemetery is another, newer one still in use and equally well-maintained as were the old abbey ruins and the village itself. Castlelyons maybe off the beaten track but it is well worth making the effort to visit. It is rural Ireland at its very best.

Much information has been gleaned from information boards within the village and also the Castlelyons village website – link here. Apart from details of its history the website shows that despite its small size, the village social life is thriving.

JFK and the Irish Famine

Posted on April 22, 2015 by johnshortlandwriter

The Great Famine – also called the Irish Potato Famine – killed a million people between 1845 and 1852 and created much bitterness towards the ruling British. Restrictive laws against Catholics who made up over three-quarters of the population, including the prohibition of owning land, had been relaxed but the majority still held only tiny parcels of land, the remainder owned by absentee British aristocracy. As a result, only potatoes could provide anywhere near enough food for their families and these were grown at the expense of all other crops. When the previously unknown disease, blight, destroyed them they had no access to other foodstuffs. At the height of the famine, enough food was being produced elsewhere in the country but this was sent for export fueling ever greater resentment. Evictions too were common. The alternative to death was emigration and over a million left for a new life elsewhere. Pictured below is the Dunbrody Famine Ship, moored at New Ross, Co. Wexford, a replica of the original boat.

The New World was a popular destination and in 1849 Patrick Kennedy, great-grandfather of American President, John F Kennedy and whose family lived near New Ross sailed to Boston, albeit from Liverpool, England. Marrying soon after his arrival he died nine years later of cholera at the age of 35.

In 1963, President Kennedy visited New Ross and his ancestral home at nearby Dunganstown. In 2008 his statue was unveiled by his sister Jean Kennedy Smith.

Fifty years after JFK’s visit, the Emigrant Flame was lit by his sister and daughter, Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg. The fire was taken from the Eternal Flame by his graveside in Arlington Cemetery travelling 3500 miles: it burns constantly to commemorate all emigrants throughout the world.

2014 in Review: the first six months

Posted on December 21, 2014 by johnshortlandwriter

So another year is almost over and it certainly has been a busy one for me. Living and working in the spectacular Cotswold countryside, a classified area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB) is a great treat and one of which I never tire. It’s also nice to go off exploring other places so 2014 found me in other parts of the UK and Ireland too. One of the first places I visited, however, was only twenty miles down the road but light years apart in reality!

typical Cotswold countryside

Like many people that live close to tourist attractions I don’t often visit the ones on my doorstep but last January found me walking the streets of Oxford. I hadn’t come to explore the colleges but the covered market which dates back more than two hundred years. The history of the market and the building is fascinating and is well worth making the time to visit – especially if you like a bargain. To read more about it and to see other photos click here.

One of the fathers of ecological writing died tragically young and in February I matched quotations from his work to images I had taken (to see them, click here). My favourite was noticed by the Society that bears his name and reprinted in their journal. I felt very honoured!

Wild and rugged scenery is often best appreciated over cake and coffee and at Watersmeet in Exmoor National Park you can do just that. Two rivers collide spectacularly besides the Victorian fishing lodge that is now owned by the National Trust and run as a café. March found me walking through beautiful scenery as well as indulging myself and the link to this remote but very accessible place is here.

Dublin, the capital city of Ireland is a favourite place of mine and in April I visited the Casino Marino, one of the most impressive and perfect neo-classical buildings in Europe. Everything about it was designed to deceive so although you only see one window on each side you actually have – well, click here to find out what plus all the other deceptions the Georgian architect managed to fit in.

Planting trees is a long term project for they rarely mature during the life of the planter. Of all the hundreds I have done in my professional life none has given me as much pleasure as this particular one. I have waited for years for it to flower and in May it did so for the first time. I felt quite emotional – it was a case of finding a handkerchief. Take a look by clicking the link here.

The Cotswolds are world renowned for their ‘chocolate box’ village scenes and Lower Slaughter must be one of the contenders. Despite its name it is a beautiful and tranquil place to visit for it has everything from crystal clear trout streams to olde-world stone cottages to a mill complete with working water wheel. If you choose the right time to explore you can have the place to yourself. To learn more click the June link here.

Casino Marino

Posted on April 16, 2014 by johnshortlandwriter

Gambling isn’t one of my vices and so when it was suggested that a visit to the Casino at Marino was a ‘must’ when staying in Dublin, I really wasn’t that keen. Grudgingly I agreed little realising what a treat was to be in store for me. The Casino was completed in 1775 and just like gambling dens its purpose was to entertain, impress and amuse its guests – but on a very different level.

When James Caulfeild, Ist Earl of Charlemont completed anine year Grand Tour of Italy, Greece, Turkey and Egypt he brought back to Ireland a great hoard of treasures. He also returned with a loveand deep knowledge of the classics and he used this to create a grand neo-classical building to house them. Neither a folly nor a house to be lived in (the main dwelling, Marino House, half a mile away and linked by a tunnel, was demolished in the 1920’s) the Casino was built purely to show off his collections. Caulfeild employed Sir William Chambers as the architect who, busy with Royal clients in London, never visited the site before, during or after completion; most of the work was carried out by the stonemason and sculptor Simon Vierpyl. Chambers was, however, reputed to be immensely proud of his work and justly so.

Everything about Casino Marino was designed to impress and it still does albeit that the contents of the building have long been lost. It stands alone and, nowadays, rather out of context for its landscape of far reaching sea views and open countryside are hidden by the city. It was also built to deceive and it still does this too: what appears to be a square, single storey building is actually one built on a cross over three floors. The huge oak doors are also a deceit for they open to reveal a small entrance, the remainder hidden from the inside by ornate plasterwork. The blacked out single windows are neither of these things for the glass has been bevelled to reflect light making it difficult to see in from outside yet flooding not one but three or more rooms with natural light. The urns sitting high above the pediments are, in fact, cunningly disguised chimneys. Four of the solid looking columns are hollow and channel rainwater from the roof.

The building of the Casino (its name derives from the Italian meaning ‘little house’) was all consuming both in effort and money and the building very quickly fell into disrepair, its art sold to settle debt. By the 1930’s the building was in danger of collapse. Now carefully restored it is possile to explore its sixteen rooms, some of which are reached by ‘secret’ doors. Some of the original parquet wooden flooring survives and one small room has a delightful alcove, its wallpaper still looking fresh. Interestingly, the printing technology of the time prevented continuous rolls being produced and it is possible to see the joints where several large sheets of paper were hung.

Casino Marino is open from March to October. A very knowledgable guide escorts you around the building bringing it back to life with information sprinkled with more than a touch of Irish humour. It is well worth making a special trip to see this very rare example of neo-classical architecture, considered to be the finest in Ireland and just one of three such buildings in Europe.

Links:
How to find the Casino Marino

Turf Burning

Posted on May 11, 2013 by johnshortlandwriter

For gardeners, peat is a well-known, although less used than before, mainstay of seed and potting composts. It’s ability to absorb large quantities of moisture and to retain nutrients plus being very light when dry, thereby reducing transportation costs, made it the perfect growing medium. In recent times, the environmental impact of industrial scale peat extraction has given rise to concern leading to the development of alternative composts becoming available.

Exmoor’s rolling moorland: a wild, windswept and boggy place

In the areas where peat is found – mostly in the temperate regions of the northern hemisphere – it was also a common fuel source and is still used for this purpose today. On a non-commercial scale peat for burning is also in decline as the hand digging of the bogs, the drying out process and the carting all takes time for very little financial gain. The days of the ‘turf cutter’ being paid sixpence a load have long passed.

Turf cutting creates deep trenches across the bogs

On Exmoor, in England’s West Country, peat is always referred to as ‘turf’, a dialect word, that means something very different from the velvety, green sward of gardeners. Turf was still being cut there into the 1970’s and was one of the very first tasks I was given when arriving as a lad to work on a remote hill farm. It was back breaking labour turning the individually cut pieces over and over to allow the wind to dry them before stacking them in heaps which later would be carried back to the farm to supply the fires that were needed all year for both heating and cooking.

Cut turf in Ireland’s Connemara

Despite the backache, it was an enjoyable time being up on the moors all day with just the sound of the wind and the curlews mournful cry for company. The native Exmoor ponies and the wild Red Deer all would appear from time to time for you became part of the moorland scenery too. Returning to the farm tired after a hard day’s work to be greeted by the sweetly fragrant smoke from the turf fires within was reassurance enough that it was all worthwhile.

Curlew and Red Deer on Exmoor

Last summer a visit to Connemara, on the west coast of Ireland, brought back all these memories for there turf burning is still commonplace. There were the rows of turf lying on the ground waiting to be wind-dried, there were the stacks of turf waiting to be carted. And, best of all, there was the heady smell of dozens of peat fires wafting over the landscape.

Connemara turf stacked ready for carting – cut to a very different shape to Exmoor

Recently, on Exmoor, it has been realised that turf cutting kept the bogs ‘open’ providing a valuable wildlife resource and although not reinstating the practice the National Park has instigated the Exmoor Mire Restoration Project. This has involved blocking old drainage systems and re-wetting over 300 hectares; the project is on-going. Visit there website by clicking here to find out more.

The trenches fill with water creating a very special and rare wildlife habitat

Exmoor is still as beautiful as ever and my love for it never diminishes but, without the scent of the turf fires, there is that little ‘something’ missing. However hope may be around the corner: the entrepreneurial Irish are selling peat incense blocks by mail order so that you can have the scent anywhere. I may even take a few blocks and light them on Exmoor for old times’ sake.

A Year in Review: 2012 July – December

Posted on January 6, 2013 by johnshortlandwriter

Where does the time go? Christmas has been and gone, as have the New Year celebrations and here we are already at the end of January’s first week. I’m beginning to understand those lines of William Davies’ “We have no time to stand and stare…“. Not that my life has too many cares fortunately and, of course, I’m exceptionally lucky living where I do and working outdoors – I have plenty of time “… to see, when woods we pass …“

Continuing on from my review of the first six months …

July: we had a rare fine evening in a year filled mostly with rain, an opportunity for the lucky few to go hot air ballooning. We had a surprise visitor when Charles Teall, who lives a few miles away, dropped unexpectedly into the secret valley. We joined him and his balloon team for drinks by the river, a lovely way to end a flight. Some years earlier Charles had flown me across the Cotswolds before landing to a champagne breakfast – but that’s another story.

Another surprise was when I found an abandoned bantam egg and hatched it out, capturing the moment on video, now uploaded to YouTube. You can watch it by clicking here.

August: You don’t go on holiday to Ireland for the weather, especially the west coast lashed as it is by frequent Atlantic Ocean storms. To everyone’s great surprise, we had unbroken sunshine and high temperatures day after day. We even swam in the millpond calm sea. At night we were treated to the most glorious sunsets, every evening more dramatic than the previous one.

September: Britain has a long and proud history but we tend to forget about the days before the Conquest in 1066. We had been invaded and settled many times prior to that but the Romans left us with a road system that is still much used today. Their houses have long since disappeared although there are many excavated ruins that can be visited. Cirencester was one of the premier cities of the time and the museum there houses many artefacts including some remarkably intact mosaics, the subject of a post.

October: Their are numerous new diseases affecting our trees and one species that has been hit badly is the Horse Chestnut. The leaves become infected with leaf miners and cankers weaken the tree further. This, in time, may kill the tree but short-term affects the quality of their fruit – the conkers of childhood games.

November: Trees also featured this month along with a visit to my earliest schooldays. The larch was my introduction to nature cleverly made magical by my school teacher, Miss Vine. Larch still are my favourite tree: we have a good number of them here in the secret valley where they give me still as much pleasure at all times of the year as they did all those years ago.

December: With the year whizzing by there were no posts this month other than to wish you all a happy holiday and start this review with the first six months of the year.

Every year has its memories but 2012 will be recalled as the year of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the London Olympics. 2013 looks like being an especially memorable one for me but you will have to wait a little longer before I reveal all!

And just in case we are all rushing about far too much let us remember the words of William Davies:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad day light,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Leisure from Songs of Joy and Others, 1911

Heading for the Sky

Posted on August 31, 2012 by johnshortlandwriter

The west coast of Ireland is renowned for its beauty for the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean, with nothing to slow them down from the shores of America, have created inlets and pools, islands and crumbling rock face. It is a wild place with mile after empty mile of high cliffs, sandy coves and sheltered bays. Like the shadows that play on the surface of the water, the weather is forever changing as rain and sun alternate produce the contrast of lush green against granite outcrops. All along this coast there are ruins of the old crofts, now long deserted as the population left to find work and comfort elsewhere. Those that remained moved into more modern homes that look as if they have been dropped into the landscape for they sit at all angles, some looking out to sea, some with their backs firmly set to it as if hunkered down waiting for the next battering storm.

One of the most picturesque towns on the coast is Clifden in Connemara whose population swells threefold during the busy summer months to 6000 or so. The region described as Connemara is undefined, being part of County Galway, but is generally accepted to be the remote, westernmost area, where mountain, bog and sea all jostle for space and attention. This remoteness has helped to save the Irish lannguage and Connemara has the highest percentage of Gaelic speakers in Ireland.

We – my partner, myself and some friends – had come to stay high on the cliffs outside Clifden specifically to visit the annual Connemara Pony Show, where the native ponies are put through their paces over three days. I have written of this in my last post (click here) and also mentioned how we came expecting rain and cool temperatures only to be blessed with such hot weather that we actually swam in the sea. The fine weather meant that we were treated to some spectacular sunsets.

There are two roads that lead west out of Clifden, the Beach road and the Sky road. The first only goes a short distance but the Sky Road is an 11km loop that is a popular destination for both tourist and local alike on a clear evening.

As the light begins to fade there is little to prepare you for the spectacle that will come later. A greying of the sky with just the merest hint of colour as if an artist has slashed the palest of pink washes in a quick ‘Z’ shaped stroke.

As the sky darkens further it would appear that the sunsets we have been promised will not materialise. The sea changes in appearance at this point and becomes almost glassy or mirror like. The dark line stretching across the water in the photo below is made by fishing nets stretched across the bay, invisible at any other time of day. Trees, too, standing on the edge of the water cast their reflection in the stillness.

A shaft of light suddenly appears along the horizon, lightening up the landscape once again only to be hidden by a bank of seafog rolling in, determined to spoil our evening display, leaving just a hint of gold cloud rising above it. But, just as quickly it disappears again to reveal the sun disappearing over the horizon beyond the islands.

We stay until the sun disappears completely and drive on imagining that the show is over but nothing has prepared us for this last finale seen as the road rounds a bend. The combination of cloud, light and darkness, of navy blue, black and pink, mirror imaged in the still water is quite breath taking. It seems unreal, as if it should be the backdrop to a Wagnerian opera; we stand on the sand speechless for no words are adequate.

I had to share the sunset with others but waking early the next morning I stepped outside to be greeted by an almost equally spectacular dawn. And what phenomenon created this vertical shaft of colour coming straight up from the sea?