Sunday and Monday, looking around

Sunday July 11; Don
Started the day with a walk around the neighborhood. Dromore appears to be a crossroads (both roads named Dromore on Googlemaps, neither named here) with a few farms on them, a few ruined cottages, and our hosts two houses, an old home and a cottage along the River Blackwater.

The walk took about forty-five minutes and we met a terrier at the first farm, a Pekinese at the second and three large dogs and their owner at the top of the hill, where an overlook revealed the Blackwater valley going west in all its sparkling splendor, framed by the Knockmealdown mountains in the distance.
As we got close to the cottage we came upon an what appeared to be an outdoor fireplace. Returning home we met out hosts and Tony told this story. The “fireplace” was a lime kiln, used into recent times.He told this story about it:

During the Irish rebellion from the British in the early twentieth century, a group of local men ambushed the Black and Tans (infamous British constabulary) on the bridge over the Blackwater in the nearby town of Cappequin, right down the hill from the barracks. It was a daring raid and the men disappeared. They had planned the attack to match the tide going out on the river and made their escape on the river. The Black and Tans scoured the countryside with no idea of where they went. They landed here at the quay, buried the guns in the kiln and dispersed to their homes. When the soldiers came hunting the next day they found only an old man tending the kiln and smoking a pipe.

Later that day we drove to Cappequin and walked it streets, sneaked a view of the closed castle and gardens, bought some groceries, and had the great good luck to watch the annual Waterford ancient tractor parade wheel through town. Old men driving old tractors and young men with their girls on their knees driving slightly newer models. Next on to Lismore, where we walked the streets, dropped into a visitor center, walked through the now Anglican, once Catholic, cathedral with some 12thc century stones from an earlier period. The cathedral had a history of the famine which stressed that one local landlord, the Duke of Devonshire, attempted to save as many peasants as possible, in contrast to the Duke of Usher who evicted as quickly and heartlessly as possible. It was eerily reminiscent of stories of “good” slave owners in the American south, although there was enough detail in the accounts to make clear that even during cruel times there are degrees of cruelty. The Usher family remains, by the church’s accounts well hated in the region. Had a nice dinner in the Lismore Hotel bar, with a boisterous crowd watching Waterford play local rival Cork in Gaelic football on the tv. We ended the day in The Cruiskan Lan (the little jug) pub in Villierstown for the World Cup final. With fifty close friends we drank beer, yelled at the referees, and cheered when Spain won in overtime.


Monday July 12; Don
Today we got off to a slow start, left the cottage around eleven for Ardmore, a seaside town famous as the seat of St. Declan, who evidently preceded St. Patrick to Ireland but let him have the honors of Bishop of Ireland. We visited St Declan’s rock – by one account he floated to Ardmore on the rock, in another it was his church bell that did so – and Barbara gave it a hug for its reputed healing powers. Later we learned it was only good for bad backs and you had to dray yourself under it, no takers here.

There is a lovely two hour cliff walk around the town, with breathtaking views of the Celtic sea, the Waterford coast, rock inlets dripping with greenery and whipped by white seabirds.

The walk starts with St Declan’s well, and a church he liked to hang out in in the fifth century. It was is disrepair, but given it’s age it’s a wonder some walls still stood and some rock carvings were still legible. On the walk we came across the same holy well where our daughter Anna once retrieved some magic water reputed to cure diseases of the eye for her grandfather. Since he got an eye infection from it, we left the water to the well. Not to worry Dad. After the walk we went to the site of St Declan’s fifth century monastery, now with a beautiful tower, once used to hide the monks valuables from viking raiders and irish chieftans, a ruined tenth century church on it and a smaller still intact eigth century church reputed to be the burial place of the blessed saint himself.


Decided to end the day with a drive to Youghal (pronounced Yawl), up the ridge that divides Waterford and Cork, and eventually after much meandering drove through the Vee (a series of switch backs) through the Knockmealdown mountains. The high passes and mountainsides were populated by rhododendrons in wet places and heather and sheep in the drier spots. Came home around nine and it was still light enough for a walk up the hill behind us where we discovered a ruined home overlooking the Blackwater. We will need to ask our host whose it was and if there is a story there as well. No doubt there is.