Rothar Routes

Cycling allows me to drift out of this modern world, to find connections with the past and revel in the beauty of the ordinary. Each time I manage to wind down the beautiful network of bóithríns that form a web across this land I sense adventure behind every bend of the road. Reminders of the past are everywhere; the importance of place and person. As I glided by the ruins of a gable end I spotted a plaque to commemorate Pat Madden, Captain of the Meelick team that represented Galway against Thurles of Tipperary in the first All Ireland Hurling Final, played in Birr on April 1st 1888. The little gems I spot on my bike bring connect me to another time.. the name Madden in these parts goes back a long way..was Pat a descendant of the Maddens who ruled this part of the country in the 1600s and lived nearby in Brackloon Castle – which is still lived in today?

I passed through this area twice in recent years, once on a boat heading for a choppy Lough Derg (thought we were going to capsize!) and once cycling from Malin Head to Mizen Head. I promised myself I’d come back and explore this hidden, under stated part of Ireland. I wasn’t disappointed. Rivers are among the oldest paths used by man; armies have criss crossed over these crossing points, monks founded monasteries and churches nearby, communities grew up around them. There are reminders of a storied past, be it in churches, castles, bog roads and bóithríns. It’s hard not to follow any semblance of an off road path and today’s cycle finished with a lovely loop around Lusmagh Bog. Early maps of Ireland show tiny Banagher, Clonfert and Meelick (much more significant places in the distant past than now).. and a mile of land planted with soldiers under the Cromwellian Act of Settlement 1652 when the Irish were banished ‘to Hell or to Connaught’…..

The busiest house builders in the country, na préacháin, were out in force; there was a soundtrack overhead of hundreds of crows flying back and forth with twigs to build their lofty nests. All around me was a liquid landscape – the Shannon Callows stretch east and west and are home to many migrating birds including the endangered corncrake. I’d love to have heard one call but I think they only call after dark… on another visit maybe. A mink stuck his long sleek body out of a hedgerow, paused as he saw me approach and was gone in the blinking of my eye.

Cycling along these empty country lanes is miraculous; transporting me to another world with every turn of the pedals, something that cannot be felt in a metal box on four wheels… free to wander, look over a ditch, unworried about traffic. I have become accustomed to knowing what type of vehicle is behind me and how it is being driven, how safe I am, whether I need to pull in off the road. There is an Arabic saying that ‘the soul travels at the speed of a camel’ Biking too is slow travel. It feels so calm and natural.. a perfect union of man and machine…the only sounds are bird song and the turning of the chain ring. And I can’t forget the smells. I could smell the turf burning in the firesides – winter isn’t fully gone yet and there’s plenty of cheap turf in these parts. Cycling is how I best feel the geography of this island, the low-lying midland plains and the mountainous rim of our coastal counties and our central uplands.

Meelick Weir Walkway

St Brendan the Navigator, known all over the world for the famous medieval saga of The Voyage of St Brendan – on returning from his epic voyages (replicated by the great Tim Severin the 1970s, who proved it was possible that he had crossed the Atlantic before Columbus!) founded a convent in Annaghdown. He later was given the site at Clonfert where he founded his famous monastery. It became a great seat of learning and it’s estimated there were 3,000 monks here in its heyday. The Vikings often raided Clonfert and it was burnt to the ground on three occasions. Gradually Vikings integrated with the native Irish and it is telling that the stonemasons who rebuilt the doorway integrated Viking images of animals in their sculptures.

I stumbled on a unique burial tradition here in Clonfert, where graves are lined with chicken wire and branches of laurel are woven into the wire to provide a beautiful resting place for the deceased. I was delighted to see this being done while I was being regaled with the true tale of the incredible 9 legged cycle! Anthony Flanagan lost his leg many years ago in a combine harvester accident. He didn’t allow it define him or inhibit him and he undertook a credible charity cycle a couple of years ago along with 4 others. With just ONE LEG he completed a 420km cycle IN 24 HOURS for some local causes. The following year they cycled to Croagh Patrick AND HE CLIMBED IT! I came out of Clonfert graveyard with my head spinning, full of amazement at the spirit of Anthony and his absolute determination to get on with life regardless of the cruel hand he was dealt. I salute him. You can hear the great man himself in this video clip:

Pilgrimage in Ireland goes back into the depths of time. There was competition between sites of pilgrimage and it was no harm for a location to have an association with a saint or two. Churches often held reliquaries with remains of particular holy men a major attraction. Two saints, Moinnean and Cummins Fadahad had their remains removed from Lann Eli, Offaly (Lynally?) and they were placed in a shrine that was brought to Clonfert but which has long since been lost. A fragment of a shrine though was recently discovered in Clonfert but not enough detail to confirm it was the original shrine holding the remains of the two holy men. Holy Trees were and are still another important place of pilgrimage. Saint Brendan’s tree is located adjacent to the Cathedral and it is covered in offerings, brought by people looking for intercession on behalf of an ill relative or for other reasons. There is a statue of 13th/14th century statue of the Madonna and child in Clonfert Catholic Church which is the focus of a month long pilgrimage in parish of Eyrecourt, Meelick, Clonfert. These ties with places and objects are hundreds of years in existence and showing no sign of a drop off in interest.

This is the route Map of the way I went. Part of it incorporates the Hymany Way and the Beara- Breifne Way, both well worth exploring on foot or by bike.

Victoria Lock

Shannon Callows and Lusmagh

The One
Written by Patrick Kavanagh

Green, blue, yellow and red –
God is down in the swamps and marshes
Sensational as April and almost incred-
ible the flowering of our catharsis.
A humble scene in a backward place
Where no one important ever looked
The raving flowers looked up in the face
Of the One and the Endless, the Mind that has baulked
The profoundest of mortals. A primrose, a violet,
A violent wild iris – but mostly anonymous performers
Yet an important occasion as the Muse at her toilet
Prepared to inform the local farmers
That beautiful, beautiful, beautiful God
Was breathing His love by a cut-away bog.