The Road to Monaghan

This is a storytelling app based on the drive up to Monaghan Town from Dublin Airport. We assume you are driving via the M1 Motorway North to Belfast, Then turning off at Junction 14 and the A33 to Ardee. And from there following the N2 North to Derry.
Typically, the Journey takes an hour and twenty minutes. This is not a sat-nav so check a map. Keep your eyes on your driving and your hands on the wheel. No Laughing! We’ll let you get onto the Motorway and get used to the car before we start telling stories.

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Swords is the next turnoff – but keep straight on for Monaghan Swords is ancient, at least 1200 years old and has a history to boot. From Colum Kill, one of the earliest Irish saints, to the Vikings, Brian Boru, the Normans, Edward the Bruce (no not Robert, his brother). And that’s only the first 500 years. It is a very ancient village, the full name of which Sórd Cholaim Chille (Sword of Colum Cill) shows its origin, having been an important foundation of St. Columba, who placed St. Finian as abbot over the brethren. To the Abbey, on that fateful Good Friday in 1014, were borne the bodies of Brian Boru and his son Murrough, after the Battle of Clontarf, to rest for one night on the long journey to Armagh. Swords returned two members to the Irish Parliament. At the Union in 1800, £15,000 was paid for the loss of this privilege (a bribe to vote for the United Kingdom), and some of this compensation money was spent in the building and endowment of the Old Boro Schools. Does Sord mean swords in English? It’s not clear – the Gaelic is more like the Scottish Claymore? But the name has been used for the area since 800AD well before the Vikings or Normans came over. Now you know more about Swords than most of the people who live there

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King James was on his way from losing the Battle of the Boyne to Dublin, and [decided] to stay a night with Mrs. Fagan who was living on Feltrim Hill. Feltrim Hill is about half a mile over to the east from here. When she saw the figure coming, she at first thought it was her uncle. Then he recognised that it might be King James. So she asked who won the battle, and he answered. "My cowardly Irish troops have run away" Mrs Fagan said "But your Majesty, you appear to have won the race?". James returned to France, where he spent the rest of his life in exile at Saint-Germain, protected by Louis XIV. Oh, and Feltrim means, Ridge of the Wolves, possibly.

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Broad Meadow or Malahide Estuary, which you are about to cross over, is the place to come to see Shelduck, Pintails, Goldeneye, Red-breasted Merganser among a dozen or more birdspecies. The estuary is slightly tidal and brackish fed from the Broad Meadow River. Malahide, the town, out by the sea, is a pleasant seaside town with some decent restaurants and a great fish and chip shop.

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About 60 years ago [around 1880] there lived a curate in Donabate named Reverend Father O'Neill. This priest was a thrifty, mean, odd, old man, and was known as a miserly priest. One day this priest ordered a sack of potatoes from a man in the Burrow. When the man was bringing the potatoes up to the priest, he brought an extra bag for him as a present. When the man arrived at the priest's house, he told the priest he had an extra bag for him as a present. When the priest heard this, he said to the man, give me the bag of potatoes you are giving me for nothing, and bring home the other sack. So the man brought home the other sack, and gave the other to the priest for nothing. Collected by Noel Kinsella from Andrew Howard aged 80 of Beaverstown, County Dublin

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St. Macculinn is the patron saint of Lusk. He lived towards the end of the fifth century. The present Catholic Church in Lusk is called St Macculinn's. It is said that he jumped from the round tower, and he landed about a hundred yards away, where there stands an old Barrack now. There is a well at the back of the Barrack's and it is said St Macculinn's footprints are there yet. He tried to jump back to the top of the tower, but he struck his face off the wall and he was killed. Why did they make him a saint? I don’t know!

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There are many different kinds of travelling folk but the most common are tinkers, ragmen and gipsies. The tinkers deal mostly in buying, selling, and swapping asses. They travel the roads from morning to night selling mats and tin cans. They mend leaking kettles, teapots, saucepans, and every kind of tinware. Some tinkers go around begging and staying here and there. Most ragmen are not too poor. They make baskets and other furniture. They gather rags, jampots, bottles, horse hair and other scrap. The gipsies go around in a caravan drawn by two ponies. They make fancy lace, baskets, tables and other wicker work. Some gipsies go around telling fortunes, and in this way get a lot of money off foolish people. The tribes that come round this locality are - Donavan's, Cash's, Purcell's and Haligans. All these tribes are intermarried. One remarkable thing about the Cash's, was that every one of them grew to about six feet in height.

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There are many different wild birds namely, the blackbird, the thrush, the robin, the wren, the lark, the gold finch, the swallow, the starling, the cuckoo, the corncrake, the plover, the woodquest, the pheasant, the yellow hammer, the crow, the titlark known as the "swingeen", the hawk, the seagull and many others. Some of these birds leave us the cuckoo, the swallow, the corncrake leave when summer is over and go away to other countries. Before the swallows fly away, they all come together in great flocks and they perch on the telegraph wires. The robin builds its nest on the side of a bank, with moss and feathers. She lays white eggs with red spots. there are old stories told that if you scale a robin's nest you will get a stye in your eye. The thrush builds her nest in a bush with mud and hay. She lays green eggs with brown spots. The blackbird builds her nest in a bush also, with clay and hay. She lays blue eggs. The wren builds her nest in a little stumpy bush, with moss and rotten ferns. She lays pale eggs with brown spots. The cuckoo does not build a nest. She lays her eggs on the ground and puts them in a small birds nest. When the eggs are hatched the young cuckoos push the other birds out and they get all the food. Collected by C. Maypother from John Maypother of Tyrrelstown, County Dublin Image: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/ https://www.flickr.com/photos/vermazeren/

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Up ahead along the verge are a set of beehives of St Mologo. He came back from Wales in the 6th century, cured the sick, built a church and taught the people around here about beekeeping. He was a Corkman, but we can forgive him for that, he did good deeds. There’s an Irish folklore custom of ‘Telling the Bees’, which ensures that the bees not feel any offence due to exclusion from family affairs, and so will remain with the hive. It was believed that if one didn’t tell the bees of a wedding, a birth, or a death, they would take umbrage and leave. So, when you’re passing these hives on the way up to the Gathering, tell them where you’re going. And on the way back tell them when you’re coming back.

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The Turnpike at Julianstwon In olden days there was a turnpike at Mr Byrne's White Cross Julianstown. There was a thatched house where the present house now stands and a big loft over the door where they used to keep the money. There was an iron railings around the house and also a big iron gate across the road where the cars had to stop and pay tolls a penny or two pence, according to the width of the tyre on the wheel. The narrower the tyre the higher the payment. Funerals were allowed to pass free of charge. There was a footpath for pedestrians on their way to Mass and also on their way to the mill and the Forge. A bay window which ran to the road edge acted as office. The north bound traffic paid at the South window of the bay and the South bound traffic paid at the North window. The tolls went to the Peppers, owners of the Ballygarth estate. The estate paid the toll collectors in furniture for the house instead of money. When the toll was paid the traveller received a ticket as receipt for his money which bore the words. "This ticket clears Dunleer, Kilineer, and Drogheda gates." Collected by Una Murtagh of Julianstown, Co. Meath from Mrs Mc Donald From the Schools Collection https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/5008904/4965496/5238814

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Horseracing on Laytown Beach Each autumn, the Laytown races are held on the beach just south of Drogheda. It’s an official race part of the Jockey Club season. It’s a run in a straight line now, as the u-turn at the end was considered too dangerous. There’s the full panoply of bookmakers, bars, owner’s restaurants, best dressed racegoers, starting gates, and the spectacle of riders in full colours racing down the beach.
It’s a movable feast as they must fit in with the tides, so look it up next time you’re over. Laytown Races

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Sonairte: The National Ecology Centre The National Ecology Centre Sonairte is set a beautifu,l 18th century group of farm buildings, on the lush, grassy, banks overlooking the Nanny River, over toward Laytown. The farm buildings were restored, and redeveloped into an ecoshop, cafe, lecture hall, and meeting rooms. The walled garden, provides the perfect space for a demonstration organic garden, set in an orchard which dates back at least 200 years. In the orchard there is also a dovecote. In the past, this five sided red brick structure housed up to 350 pigeon nesting boxes. Just that, would make it worth a visit, wouldn’t it? The ten acre site, also includes meadows, salt marshes, woodland, and a beautiful scenic nature trail, which takes you along the Nanny river, and circles around a rath, which legend suggests was the home of Laogh mac Riangabra, Cuchulain’s charioteer.

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The Lone Bush There is a legend told of a lone bush, which was growing in Coolrath, about four miles from Drogheda. A man cut it down, and left a hole in the ground, where he took up the root which he brought to the yard. That night, three knocks came to the back of the house. The next night the same thing happened. The following morning, when the fire was being lighted, a terrible noise came to the door. It was like as though someone was hitting it with a mallet. That day the man put the root back into the hole where it was formerly growing, and it grew again. The noise never came anymore.” Lone bushes in the middle of a field, typically hawthorn, are supposed to be haunted by the fairies, leprechauns or little people. Whether they live there, or party there, or just sleep there isn’t known. One isn’t even to break twigs off them on pain of death. So, in digging up the whole root, and living, the man from Coolrath can consider himself lucky!

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Monasterboice OK, don’t look if you’re the driver, but off to the west, you can see the round tower of Monasterboice. The ruins of a monastery raided and destroyed by Vikings is still used as a cemetery by local people. But there are also three large Celtic Crosses, dating from the 10th Century.
The largest, known as the West Cross, is almost seven metres high, and engraved from top to toe with scenes from the Bible; David, Moses, Abraham and Issac as well as the passion, death and resurrection of Christ. Tradition has it that after the Famine, emigrants would chip pieces off it as keep-sakes of the old country.
The second cross, is much more elaborate and much less damaged. This cross known as Muireadach’s Cross is the most complete. Five and a half metres high, covered in 63 panels. It has an inscription on the west side base; “A prayer for Muireadach, under whose auspices the cross was built” It’s free to visit, there’s a car-park, but shockingly, no shop, café or interpretive visitors centre!

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The Tinure donkey and the ghosts About twenty years ago [about 1910), there lived in this parish of Tenure, an old man named Dan McCullough, who used to see a ghost nearly every night. One night he was coming from Drogheda with a donkey, the donkey stopped seven times from the dispensary to the Red Gap hill, that is the place where Cromwell fought his battle. The poor old man would take off his hat, and put it on the donkey's eyes, and he would move along. Every time the donkey would see a ghost he would stop, and start sweating, and try to turn on the road. That would happen any time he would be late coming from Drogheda on that part of the road. Around about that locality, a great many people see a ghost. There is a gate on the top of the Red-Gap hill, which keeps shaking the calmest night of the year at twelve o clock. A little north of the Red-Gap is another ghost place. One night a man was coming with a bundle of hay on his back, when crossing a stile, he felt no weight on his back. He looked behind him, and saw about twenty little men. He went on farther, and just when he was going past a place called the "middle gap", all the little men disappeared. They were called the good men. Plenty of people hear footsteps late at night at that place. https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/5008866/4962225/5078770 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0674, Page 284 Photographer Maurice Curtin https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbeg/6136 The Photographic Collection, A015.15.00018

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Slieve Gullion and the Cursed Lake The mountain straight ahead north is Slieve Gullion. In the tale known as The Hunt of Slieve Gullion, two sisters Áine, the goddess of summer, and Milucra, the goddess of winter, both seek after the legendary hero Fionn mac Cumhaill. Áine had vowed never to marry a man with grey hair. So Milucra secretly puts a spell on the lake atop Slieve Gullion, so that anyone who swam in it would immediately grow old. She tricked Fionn asking him to fetch her golden ring which she lost in the lake. He does and emerges as an old man with white hair. His men, the Fianna, force her to give him a restorative potion from her cornucopia. Fionn's youth returns, but his hair stays white. And this is why he is called, Fionn, meaning 'white'. The lake is still up there and is called the Cursed Lake. Are you brave enough to swim in it? Lower down, on a hillock called Spellick, is a rock feature called the Calliagh Birra's Chair. Calliagh Birra's being Milucra alter ego. Locals would visit it at Lughnasadh and take turns sitting on the chair.

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One of them, Lawrence Taffe, tells this ghost story: There is a certain field in the district of Roodstown, where there are fairies. This old man, who lived about a century ago in 1840, was always going home late, and was usually drunk. Then someone warned him not to be going across this field after midnight, but in return, he told them that he would fight all the fairies in Ireland. This night he was going home after midnight, and he was drunk. As he was crossing the field, he got a slap on the face, which knocked him. He rose, but got the same again. He lay there groaning, and while thus, a little red man came up to him, and said "Now my good man, you must come for a ride to the Slieve Gullion mountains". The old man refused, but the next place he found himself, was on top of an enormous horse. The little man told him, that when he would want the horse to jump anything, he should say "High over all". But anyway, when he was near Armagh, a big river, with a ditch on the side opposite appeared. "Beggora, she will never jump this". So instead of saying "High over all", he said "Right through all", so excited was he, but the horse jumped through the ditch, leaving the man behind, and him stuck fast in the ditch. It took the man three hours to get out, and three weeks to get back home. So, he never said that he was not afraid of the fairies after that. Told by Laurence Taaffe of Roodstown, to Nancy Conlon of Drumcashel, County Louth duchas.ie Photograph: https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbeg/4625; The Photographic Collection, A001.29.00038 Photographer Åke Campbell 1935

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Just south of Ardee we have the jumping Church of Millextown, having been one of the many religious houses which fell a victim to plunder and destruction, it was reduced to ruins and subsequently became a place of burial only. Immediately inside the end wall of the church was a grave containing the ashes of one whose religious opinions were not considered orthodox to warrant his being interred within the sanctuary. However this may be, the end wall was discovered one morning by some mysterious and, as yet, unexplained means, to have changed its position, moving so far inward as to leave the mouldering remains of the "unbeliever" outside. This might be considered fabulous and written in the language of fiction, but, it is, nevertheless, true. By whatever agency it has been accomplished the wall is not now, where it was originally built. It is about four feet from the foundation wall, the grave occupying the space between. Whatever difficulty visitors may find in explaining this phenomenon, they will experience none whatever in consulting the facts, as both the wall and its foundation are still perfect, with the obnoxious grave between them. Hence it has been called the "Jumping Church" of Millextown. https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/5008848/4960933 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0668, Page 360 Image and data © National Folklore Collection, UCD. See copyright details » You can still go and see it – and if you have a better explanation, tell someone.

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Drumlins, Drumlins, Drumlins The landscape changes from the little hills of Monaghan, to the flat, or gentler inclines of Louth, around Ardee. These drumlins spread up through Monaghan, out through Cavan, and up through Lough Erne in Fermanagh. The islands in Lough Erne are half submerged drumlins. The net effect of this mass of drumlins, meant from ancient to medieval times, that Ulster as a whole, was easily defended from the South, and from the English Pale.
Each hill would typically have been a townland, though some have merged or been split over time. There would have been one extended family, living in a fort or a homestead, a bally if you like. Families, typically but not exclusively native families, were living that way here, up till the Napoleonic Wars and some even later than that. But the hills weren’t divided into fields like now. Those hedges are an 19th Century innovation encouraged by the landlords. Each drumlin was surrounded by undrained lowland, wet, boggy, overgrown and (hopefully) impassable to livestock escaping, and to trouble coming in. The outlines of the townlands still follow the streams today. Livestock would be let out in the morning and brought back in at night. More like the Masai in Kenya, than Little Boy Blue’s The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn.

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The Queen of Sweden, yes, the Queen of Sweden, gets married with a Carrick-mecross Lace shawl. From the Schools Archive: “This town is noted for lace this great many years and I am sure that there are few people who have not heard of Carrick-mecross lace. This lace has a very peculiar design which makes it very tedious and difficult to do. Very few people make lace in this town except the nuns, and Miss Simmons who lives in Mulinarry. Some time ago more people worked at it but there is not much sale for it as it is very expensive. The lace is made into collars, vests, wedding robes and many other such articles, and these are carefully preserved in families from generation to generation. Our little town is known in places that it would not be known in, by its lace. “Lace - making was a very famous industry round here about forty years ago. All the women & girls were kept very busy. They first cut a piece of wood from a tree, bought a linen spool at 5 shilling & needles at 3 shillings. Then starting with 9 shillings a family named Smith were known to make £20.”

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The Tin Church at Laragh. The tin church at Laragh About three or four miles west of here, is the tin Church of St. Peter's Church in Laragh, County Monaghan. It is a tin tabernacle, constructed in 1890 from corrugated iron and timber. The Swiss-Gothic design of the church was inspired by travels on the continent in the 1880’s by Laragh Tweed Mill operator James McKean and his wife, while on their honeymoon. As you approach from either side and round a bend in the road, this highly unusual Tin Church stands dramatically on a high rock overlooking a small, fast flowing river. It is a rare example of a 19th century corrugated iron clad church. Local stories suggests McKean had the mill river realigned to create the spectacular site in Aughnamullen parish, the intention being to build a Catholic church to serve the mill workers of the town. However, following a breakdown in industrial relations, a falling out with the local clergy and the eventual permanent closure of the Irish Laragh Tweed factory in 1885, St. Peter's was eventually built in 1890 and consecrated as Church of Ireland on 13 August 1891. It was de-consecrated in 1962. Fifty years later, Laragh Heritage group was formed to raise funds, to restore St. Peter's back to its former glory. The Tin Church is now open to the public, and free to visit 7 days a week from 10am to 6pm including Bank Holidays. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Peter%27s_Church,_Laragh

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Back to the Queen of Sweden, and Carrick-mecross Lace In 1904 her father Prince Arthur, Duke of Connaught and Strathearn, Victoria’s third son, was Commander in Chief of the British Army in Ireland.
His headquarters were in Dublin, but he fancied Leonie, Lady Leslie of Glas-lough, and moved his HQ up to Castleblaney to be closer to her. With his wife and children in tow!
Oh, The Headquarters were owned by Henry Thomas Hope of Hope Diamond fame. So the royals weren’t slumming it here. The building, known as Hope Castle, was badly damaged by fire in 2010. His daughters, aged about 18, one of them the Wife of the Crown Price of Sweden, would go out walking on a Sunday afternoon visiting the poorest houses. And these houses typically produced Carrick-mecross Lace. So when Princess Margaret Victoria Charlotte Augusta Norah of Connaught married the Crown Prince of Sweden, she was married in a Carrick-mecross Lace. She died young aged 38, while pregnant, and was buried in her wedding dress. Her wedding shawl is still used in Swedish Royal weddings.

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There is a vault in the grave-yard at Clontibret church, St Colman’s, belonging to a family called Fitzgerald. In a public house nearby, a few men were talking about the vault. There was a wager laid that one of the party, named Bob Brown, who never knew what fear was, would not enter the vault, and bring back a skull. Brown accepted the wager. While he was getting the key from the sexton, another of the party, named George Grimes, got into the vault, and hid in a dark corner, behind some coffins. When Brown arrived, he lifted the first skull he came to. At that, Grimes called out, in a hoarse voice, "That's mine". Brown lifted another, but Grimes repeated, "That's mine". When he had lifted the fourth skull, and Grimes had called "That's mine". Says Brown, "It makes no difference who owns it, I'm going to win my ten bob", and off he went with the skull, to win the wager. Recounted by Michael Cunningham of Cashel, County Monaghan https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4723825/4716655 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0936, Page 392 Image; By Pieter Claesz, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4892401

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Now you are coming up to Corlat Roundabout where we leave you.
Straight on for Monaghan Town, the Westenra Hotel and the Hillgrove. Turn right for the Four Seasons.

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