The Sunny Side of Ireland Part 9

[Ill.u.s.tration: Glengarriff Harbour]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Otter Rock Glengarriff]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Gougane Barra. Co Cork]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ Gougane Barra.]

In a fair spot above the blue waters of the Bay of Bantry, ~Glengarriff~, as a health resort, vies with its charming young rival, Parknasilla. Its climate, too, is softened by the nearness of the Gulf Stream, and yew and arbutus, as well as tropical cryptogamia and Alpine plants, overgrow every available spot along the sides of the rough defile. It is come-at-able from Cork by train to Bantry and then coach, or by coach from Killarney or Kenmare. Apart from the beauty of the situation and the mildness of its climate, Glengarriff possesses splendid facilities for sea bathing and boating. There is excellent hotel accommodation both at Eccles', on the sh.o.r.e of the bay, and at Roche's, in the midst of beautiful grounds, through which the Owvane, or "fair river," flows, making on its way a wild cascade. The drive from Glengarriff to Gougane Barra, through the Pa.s.s of Keimaneigh, "the path of the deer," is one of the great excursions to be made. ~Gougane Barra~, the shrine of Saint Finbarr, is in the midst of a lonely lake near the source of the Lee. It is still the scene of "patrons" on Saint Finbarr's day, and Ma.s.s is celebrated in the open air in the middle of the lake. There is good trout fishing in the Allua and other streams in the Desmond Valley. Callaghan, the poet, has sung of it--

"There is a green island in lone Gougane Barra, Where Allua of songs rushes forth as an arrow; In deep-valleyed Desmond--a thousand wild fountains Come down to that lake, from their home in the mountains; There grows the wild ash, and a time-stricken willow Looks chidingly down on the mirth of the billow; As, like some gay child, that sad monitor scorning, It lightly laughs back to the laugh of the morning.

And its zone of dark hills--oh! to see them all bright'ning; When the tempest flings out its red banner of lightning; And the waters rush down, mid the thunders deep rattle, Like clans from their hills at the voice of the battle; And brightly the fire-crested billows are gleaming, And wildly from Mullagh the eagles are screaming."...

The "green island" is a little over half an acre in extent. In its centre is a quadrangle, with walls at parts fourteen feet thick, in which are eight cells or cloisters rudely arched over. Within, on a raised platform, is a large cross with five steps ascending to it. There is a large flagstone here with an inscription, giving directions how "the rounds" are to be performed on the vigil and forenoon of the feast days of St. Finbarr and St. John the Baptist, to whom there is a special cultos all over Munster. The road from Gougane runs through Inchigeela and Ballingeary by a wild stretch of river inches, called the Gearagh, to Macroom, where the old Castle and Convent are worth visiting. In the latter the kindergarten system has been introduced with great success. It is also here that the Gaelic Feis or Festival is held for the locality, which contains a large percentage of Irish-speaking people, including numbers of children. From Macroom train runs direct to Cork. In the visitors' book at Inchigeela Hotel some vagabond rhymester penned the following farewell:--

Sweet Inchigeela, fare thee well, to-morrow we depart On Mrs. Brophy's outside car, for Gougane B. we start; I add my mite of doggerel to all I have read here, And put my X to all that's writ of this hotel's good cheer.

O charming Inchigeela, were mine the poet's pen, How I would do the Longfellow, in praising rock and glen; Among thy mountains, hills, and lakes, six happy days we pa.s.sed, And sigh to think the day draws near that's doomed to be the last.

We've climbed the rocky mountains, we've plodded o'er the plain, We've bid a wild defiance to the drizzling, drenching rain; And yielding to the influence of your coquettish weather, We've grilled beneath the sunshine on thy "tick" infected heather.

O lovely Inchigeela! O cosy Lake Hotel!

O Hannah! best of waiting-maids, and civilest as well; O were I not so sleepy, a great deal more I'd say, But I must grasp my pilgrim's staff and wend my onward way.

From ~Cromwell's Bridge~, at Glengarriff, the road runs to Berehaven, where there is an old Castle of the O'Sullivan's and some splendid caves. Cromwell's Bridge, of which one arch only now remains intact, is said to have been built here to facilitate the march of the Protector on his return from Dunboy Castle, he having threatened, if the bridge was not erected on his return, he would hang a man for every hour he was delayed. ~Bantry~, or the White Strand, is a thriving town, a pleasant drive from Glengarriff. Here the French fleet, with Wolfe Tone on board, purported landing in the winter of 1797; but, like the Armada, were scattered by a hurricane. Bantry House, the residence of the White-Hedges family, is beautifully situated on the side of the bay.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ Cromwell's Bridge, Glengarriff.]

The Cork and Bandon Railway from Bantry is connected with most of the towns on the Cork coast. From Skibberreen, the famous fishing village of ~Baltimore~ may be visited. The Piscatorial School is doing good work, and is an enduring monument to the philanthropy of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts. Innisherin Island, in Baltimore Harbour, was an old fortress of the O'Driscolls--and in particular of "Finnen O'Driscoll, the Rover"--of whom it is told:--

"The men of Clan-London brought over Their strong ships to make him a slave; He met them by Mizen's wild headlands, And the sharks gnaw their bones 'neath the wave."

Baltimore was sacked in the early seventeenth century by Algerine pirates, and all the able-bodied inhabitants sold into slavery. These pirates were finally put down by the intrepidity of the Commonwealth seamen. Kinsale, also on the coast, is a remarkable old town; there James II. landed on his ill-fated visit to Ireland. Bandon, beautifully situated on the broad river of that name, was long the Derry of the South. The memory of these "good old times" only now remains, and Bandon is the centre of many successful industries.

For information as to Sport to be had in the Killarney District, see end of this volume, where particulars are given as to Cycling, Fishing, &c.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Coaching in Kerry]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The Lakes and Fiords of Kerry.

The Grand Atlantic Tour--Caragh, Cahirciveen, Valencia, Waterville, Parknasilla, Kenmare, &c.

The beauty of Killarney is not without a rival, and that even "next door" to it in its very own kingdom of Kerry. Leaving behind the soft-swelling hills, deep-eyed lakes and dark mountains, we speed southward and westward to other lakes and mountains kindred to what we have already seen. It is for these lovely lands that the Gulf Stream crosses the Atlantic to kiss, that we are making over the wide-armed railway which clasps the most picturesque scenery in the country within its embrace. Starting from Killarney for Valencia, we leave the train to continue its journey northwards to Tralee, at Farranfore Junction. While changing into the carriages for the south-west coast, where

"The mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another,"

one look round reveals the amphitheatre of hills. Westward, whither we are going, the hills above Glenbeigh point our road to where the Atlantic meets the sh.o.r.e. To the eastward, where the morn, in russet mantle clad, walks o'er the dew, the line of far-piercing spears, Mangerton, Torc, Glena, Toomies, and the Reeks extend. At Killorglin (twenty-four miles rail), with a wide-spanning viaduct, we cross the Laune, wending its way from the Lakes to Dingle Bay. Here the ruins of an old Knights Templar Castle remain to remind us of the historic past.

For five-and-twenty miles from this place onward, the route runs over the southern sh.o.r.e-line of Dingle Bay. Some five miles from Killorglin, in a secluded nest of old trees beneath the mountains, lies ~Caragh Lake~.

"Long, long ago, beyond the s.p.a.ce Of twice ten hundred years; In Erin old there lived a race Taller than Roman spears."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fishing in Caragh River]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ Caragh River and Lake.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ Southern Hotel, Caragh Lake.]

And in their romances and love-songs, Caragh was tenderly mentioned, for was it not here that Dermot sheltered Grania in the bowers of the quicken-trees? All who have read the fine old Finnian romance, "The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne," which tells the iliad of their flight across ancient Erin, will remember that here on the sh.o.r.es of Kerry he met his enemies and discomfited them. In the mists westward from the lake is the hill-summit, Seefin, where the disconsolate son of MacCool sat. For long this little paradise has remained forgotten by scenery-seeking men, but now that it is re-discovered, it will enthral all comers. The lake, sheltered under the cloak of the hills, is six miles long, and all around its coasts are things of beauty, green velvet mosses, dark broom and heather-clad hills, with rowan trees interspersed throughout. The grisly mountains are glistening with silver threads--small streams that hasten to see themselves reflected in the lake. Far from the busy haunts of men, in a sleepy hollow only five minutes' walk from the railway station, the ~Southern Hotel~ Company has secured a delightful site for their fine hotel. If nature has done great things for Caragh, "filthy lucre," too, has done much, and here is everything to help the invalid, the sportsman, or "the common or garden"

tourist to take advantage of the charming pleasure and health resort.

For the fisherman there are almost endless opportunities. There is excellent salmon and trout fishing in the Caragh Lake, and also in the Caragh, Carahbeg, Ougarriv, and Meelagh Rivers, while within easy reach are Lakes Acoose, Cloon, Coomlonkir, Oulagh, Loughnakirkna, Corravoula, and Nabrackdarrig, all of which would gladden the heart of old Izaac Walton. Over twenty-five thousand acres of the best shooting in Kerry is reserved for the use of guests. It comprises princ.i.p.ally grouse, woodc.o.c.k, snipe, duck, wild goose, and plover. Both banks of the Caragh River, which is carefully preserved, have also been secured. ~Dooks~, in the vicinity, has been selected for an excellent nine-hole golf course, of which guests, as honorary members, are ent.i.tled to take advantage. A flag-station on the railway brings the links within easy walking distance. The grand strand along the sh.o.r.e gives every opportunity of bathing. Across the beautiful Dingle Bay rises Mount Brandon (3,127 feet), and Dunmore Head, out at the edge of the ocean, has the Blasket Islands scattered around its coast, the treacherous rocks of which were so fatal to the Spanish Armada. By car from the hotel to Blackstones Bridge, returning by boat through the lake, is a short tour of many attractions. Beneath, at one side, lie the bright waters of the bay; on the other the dark waters of the lake. The Killorglin road is reached about a mile from Acoose Lake, and then following the declivity by a mountain stream, we get a good view of Gort-na-gloran Mountain, on the east of the lake, and see in the distance the fishing hamlet of Glencar, with the Glencar Hotel high up on pasture ground, surrounded by a cordon of green fir trees. Except in the Swiss valleys and parts of Norway, there is no scenery in Europe to compare with an inland route from Caragh to Parknasilla. It lies across the mountains

"Where the wandering water gushes In the hills above Glencar; In pools among the rushes, That scarce could bathe a star,"

through wild scenery between the gorges of the mountains, and into Ballaghbeama Pa.s.s. Beneath, in a winding valley, lies Lough Brin, turning from which we come into the valley of the Eskdhu, or Blackwater, and follow it amid the beeches until it falls into the sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ Pa.s.s of Ballaghbeama.]

Leaving Caragh Lake, the railway line follows the flow of the river, the next station being ~Glenbeigh~, where there is a growing watering-place.

The strand is particularly fine, extending over two miles. There is a good hotel, with golf links, beside plenty of fishing and boating.

~Coomasaharn~--the wonderful lake in the vicinity--it has been correctly said is surrounded by precipices more awful than anything to be found nearer home than the Alps or Pyrenees--clinging to the mountain side, at a height of several hundred feet above the sea, with here a cutting or embankment, and there a mountain gorge, in which a lovely waterfall is almost lost to sight in a labyrinth of foliage.

~Mountain Stage~ and ~Kells~ are pa.s.sed, and the train glides down an incline to Cahirciveen and Valentia Harbour. ~Cahirciveen~, the birthplace of Daniel O'Connell, is the most westerly town in the three kingdoms. It lies with its back up against the Iveragh Mountains, and facing the blue waters of Dingle Bay. Only since the road was cut across the hills to Valentia in later years has it come to be of importance. In 1803 there were only fifteen houses here, and the beginning of its uprise in the world was when O'Connell got it made a market town. But in legends of the past it is a place of fame, and received its name from Sive, one of the beautiful daughters of the great monarch, Owen More.

~Carhan House~, where the Liberator spent his childhood (but was not actually born, as alleged), the ruins of which now only remain, may be seen a short distance outside the town.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ On the Coast near Glenbeigh.]

Two charming fishing harbours under Knocktubber Mountain are worth seeing, Councroum, "the Haven's Bend," and c.o.o.nana, which is called after the woman who bore the great Finn. Here, the mighty fighter of the old days, "Conn of the Hundred Battles," fought no less than thirteen of his fields, and three pre-historic forts remain to bear testimony to the past--Cahir-na-cahal, Cahirgal, and Castlequinn.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ At Glenbeigh.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ Lake Coomasaharn.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ Cahirciveen.]

Ballycarbery's ruined castle, too, deserves attention. In ancient times it was the fortress of Carbery O'Shea, whose tide-swept tomb is still to be seen. Then it pa.s.sed into the hands of Owen More's descendants, and from them to the O'Connells. When the Spaniards sent their "ale" over to Erin, and the Kerry women borrowed one another's cloaks to go to Spain to sell eggs and dulisc, Ballycarbery, commanding the harbour's mouth, was a place frequented by mariners and merchantmen from many a Spanish port. There is a story of Morgan of the Wine and a Spanish Captain worth re-telling. Two O'Connells lived in Ballycarbery together, one brother, Shawn, occupying the lower portion, and the other, Morgan, living in the upper apartments. Both at the same moment invited a Spanish captain, who had come into the port, to dine with them. The foreigner, embarra.s.sed by their hospitality, and not wishing to show an undue preference--as neither brother would give way--agreed to give his company to whichever gentleman had his repast cooked first. The brothers repaired with speed to the castle, and Morgan was chagrined when he had mounted to his rooms, to find that Shawn had barricaded the entrance behind him, to prevent his servants from drawing water to cook the dinner. But he was not to be foiled, for, broaching a cask of wine, he cooked in it what he wanted, and as his dinner was first prepared, the Spaniard and his brother Shawn were his guests! In the wars of the Commonwealth the castle was reduced. ~Derriana Lake~, in the bed of the mountains--with wisps of mist on its further sh.o.r.es--is like a dream picture. The fair isle floating in its centre is freighted down with oak and arbutus trees standing out in relief against the mountain, and reflected in the mirror-faced waters. The coloured setting of the surroundings is exquisite. The cliffs bristle crest high with rigid firs, the young oak copse is entangled with an undergrowth of guelder rose, and in the sedges near the heron-frequented reeds, white water lilies open their wonderful eyes. Close by, ~Cloonaghlin Lake~, when it is dark with mountain shadows and frowning clouds, is sufficiently desolate to awe the least susceptible, but when auspiciously the sky is brightened, we feel--

"Truly the light is sweet, and A pleasant thing it is for the Eyes to behold the sun."

The shadows recede into the depths of the water or the hollows of the hills, the many colours of the trees show themselves; and song-birds begin anew their music, as though a great hawk had been near, and had pa.s.sed them by scathless.