The Burren: Give me some of that old time region

Day Twelve: June 14

In keeping with the family roots theme, let’s crank it way back.  How about a five thousand year old portal tomb with thirty-three bodies in it.  How about more recent news of ancient family as seen in a tenth century ring fort.  My relatives did come from County Clare, along the Shannon Estuary (Kilrush and Carrigaholt).  I like to think these ancient traces can produce a similar evocation of the avocations of a general Irish ancestor of more than yore.

We headed right back to Kinvarra and from there to Ballyvaughan, about 10km further along the road. We left our bags at the Hylands Burren Hotel.  When you look at all the pubs in each town you get an idea of where all of the deforested trees went (90 percent of Ireland has been deforested, the second highest percentage of any country in Europe); The extent of paneling, picture rails, bannisters and bars could account for them all. (Actually, it was the export of Irish timber by the English, especially to build the Royal Navy). Hylands took great adjustment of your eyes to the dark woody interior upon entry.

For our field-trip today we drove another circuit: we drove the Road to Lisdoonvarna, a tune by the name of which we hummed along the way, and around to Kilfenora jiggety-jig and then north again on the return leg.

The area that this route circumscribed is called The Burren (rocky place), and is about a ten square mile plot of exposed limestone sea bed.  It is utterly devoid of trees or top soil because it had been deforested six thousand years ago, and then nothing could hold the top soil from wind and water erosion.  There are wonderful, native and plentiful flowers and plants in the region; they cling unmolested down in the cracks of this riven landscape.  

This landscape extends from the hills to the sea in pleasantly climbable terraces.

We stopped at various ancient sites.  The first was Caherconnell, a sixth century ring fort.  This was a fairly intact example of a circular fortified home of a small band of thirty or so related people.  Ring forts are more like enclosures for animals and a family and a windbreak than a true fortification.  We were given an exceedingly over-produced full color, VOC-reeking ten page brochure as a souvenir of the visit.  I therefore feel compelled to quote it here.

“This enclosed farmstead is bigger than most stone ringforts and was built in the 10^th century AD by a high status, possibly royal family. Later historical documents suggest that the owners were probably the ancestors of the O’Loughlins that owned the Caherconnell in later medieval times.”   I am reminded of the Pueblo people of New Mexico who can rightly claim ties in an uninterrupted line back to the Anasazi. 

There are 450, 000 ring forts known in Ireland, 450 in this small area alone; it was a widespread community design that someone in my ancestry must have experienced.

Caherconnell ring fort in the distance

Entrance to the enclosure

 A tumbled portion of the ring fort with an elderberry nearby.  Superstition holds that it is bad luck to cut elderberry and thus they survive in ruins quite picturesquely.

Next stop was the very popular Pounalbrone Dolmen—a portal tomb that contains the defleshed and disarticulated remains of thirty three souls.  It has stood with its huge capstone for five thousand years.The carbon-dating of the bones spanned centuries.  Rather than being in constant use it is theorized that all the bones were re-interred here at one time. 

About as tall as a tall human the dolmen definitely looked like a door to the underworld.  It took Steve about an hour to catch these shots without other tourists in view—don't be fooled.

There are many of these dolmens in the Burren.  This particular one held multiple bodies, other types are referred to as singular tombs and held one to three bodies.  So this group was an agrarian, bronze-age people who had elaborate ritual that required such feats of stone moving.  We enjoyed thinking their descendants lived for another 4500 years through time and moved only a half mile down the road to live in Caherconnell. 

As we walked back to our car we overheard a woman asking the neon-vested Office of Public Works attendant (OPW oversees Ireland’s archaeological sites) whether there were standing stones (menhirs) along the Burren trail that she and her friend had just been on.  They had seen some and were surprised to just stumble upon them. He replied no, these were new dolmens placed upright by current trail users. 

He recounted a litany of offenses to the archaeological sites in the Burren but especially at the readily accessible Poulnaborone .  People are regularly told to get off the capstone; once he came to the site and found twelve people taking their picture atop the capstone.  Two children of an Italian family were caught spray painting it, another American youth politely asked if he could pose nude in front of it as he was spending his time all over Europe stripping down for photos in front of landmarks. People have set fires inside the tomb, causing one dolmen pillar to crack and collapse.  This incident led to a dismantling of the dolmen, replacement of a pillar and the thorough informative excavation of those interred there. All artifacts and remains have been moved into museums.  Someone else started another fire in it more recently cracking another pillar that fortunately today is still holding.

The attendant/guard, who had now clocked out of work, strongly lamented to us that none of this damage would happen if there were the will to protect Poulnabrone.  He is a man that grew up in the Burren and he has to live with the fact that when he gets off work he can no longer even ask miscreants to stop molesting the stone because the OPW insurance would not cover him or the OPW after 5PM.   The guard does not believe Poulnabrone will last even his lifetime as the general Facebook photo/Selfie/Extreme Exploit culture will not go away anytime soon— nor will the powerful who could help do what is needed.  The politicians and higher strata of OPW consider Poulnabrone just one more of their many sites, and no more deserving of protection than any other.

We returned to the hotel.  Steve checked out the music—a small session in a corner by an unlit fireplace. He asked one person the name of a song—this was a hint that he knew a bit of what he inquired about— and that question led them to ask if he played.  They invited him to grab his mandolin and settle in. 

Steve managed to pull it off his playing very well.  He led two sets and played one solo of Rodney's Glory.  The room was full of appreciative listeners and his session mates were very warm and friendly.  Best session yet.

We had had yet another brilliant full day of great times.  Old times and tuneful times, somehow all connected in this country of deep place.