Curraghchase Caravan & Camping Park, Kilcornan, County Limerick, Munster

       

Truth be told I abandoned the account of yesterday’s travel as soon as the trial of the laundry was done, and crawled into bed with a belly ache and fury at having taken too much upon myself. It is not often I reach the end of my tether, and to my credit, I took myself to bed before I took it all out on my travelling companion. This morning I confessed all and said I was sorry; it is not often that I have to stoop so low. But I rose this morning feeling fighting fit and ready to embark upon another day of exploration of this land of one of my grandmothers (albeit many generations ago).

Alas the overnight rain was still falling as we breakfasted, but the radio weather forecast promised an improving scene, and now that I was back to my optimistic self, we packed up lunch and set off on the road, the itinerary for the day mostly set by the Chauffeur, but all very much approved by the Navigator.

Curraghchase is well situated for travel if you are viewing the overall map of the country with an ignorant eye such as we did, but when you actually arrive and look at the options of tour routes, it is still a way to drive unless your destinations are immediately to hand. The lovely Maria had told us there was a shortcut through to Adare if we turned right after exiting the barrier gates, so today we did exactly that, hopefully cutting drive time from the first part of our tour.

Well, firstly we nearly ran over a peacock which emerged from the shadows of a narrow lane, and then took the wrong turning at an unmarked intersection, and while we did eventually emerge out on to the N21 north of Adare, after finding ourselves back at Kildimo, then Ferry Bridge before managing to meander our way through another lot of lanes to Patrickswell, we were well short of our aim in cutting a few kilometres off the day’s journey.

Now back on track, we travelled south to Croon, a lovely little village where we nearly collided with two other cars at an intersection. After the event, we were not still sure whether we were in the wrong or not. Chris mouthed a “sorry” to the other parties before they had the opportunity to say otherwise out their opening car windows. No vehicle or humans were hurt, although we were both a bit shaken, perhaps more surprised than anything else.

But after having been lost, and the encounter with the peacock and the intersection, we were free of the “three event” curse and ready to proceed with our day and what a lovely one it was, despite the fact the rain continued well into the early afternoon. Such is Ireland’s weather!

It was indeed “a long way to Tipperary”, especially today but after passing through the very tidy villages of Bruff, Hospital and Emly, we arrived at our first destination to check out what all the hoo-ha is about, given that we have all known of this place since we were old enough to sing the name “Tipperary”.

Tipperary doesn’t make it into our guide book and probably for good reason. It is a rather underwhelming place, or at least on first impression. We parked up in a car park soon finding we could have done so nearby for free, but such is life. We wandered up one side of the main street and then the other, stepping around the dog faeces and over the cigarette butts, buying a newspaper and lamenting the state of the town. It is an old town, a shabby town, with little appeal unless you have arrived to shop for specific items which it surely can supply. The most impressive commercial enterprise was one of the pubs, standing out so much from its drab, unkempt and tired looking commercial fellows.

It is an unassuming market town with a modest population of 5,000 or so, celebrating its past heritage in the very ugly Excel Heritage Centre, which we did not visit. There is a statue of one of the town’s heroes, Charles Kirkham, 19^th century poet, writer and patriot, in the main street, and his name pops up elsewhere here and there about the town. Tipperary was also birthplace of John O’Leary, a Fenian who served nine years in English prisons between 1865 and 1874. There is more too that Tipperary lays claim to but for the tourist right now, little to cause them to linger, apart from the two very smart new Aldi and Lidl supermarkets; we picked up some delicious brioche from the first of these. 

The theme of today’s tour was the Golden Vale, a swathe of land on the eastern edge of County Limerick and into County South Tipperary and County Cork , north of the Galtee Mountains and south of the Silvermine Mountains, an area of rolling pasture land famed for its dairy farming. And it was here about Tipperary that the countryside was indeed quite lovely; here the River Ara passes the town, and to the west we twice crossed the River Suir, that which flows through Waterford on the east coast where we stayed a few weeks ago.

From here we turned north east and travelled the twenty kilometres to Cashel, which unlike Tipperary, draws the tourists by the coachload. Even as we found our way through the town to the car park near our destination, we could see that this was a very different kettle of fish from our former stopover. Alas the rain persisted during the entire time of our visit, so we were not encouraged to return on foot and explore this attractive centre beyond the Rock.

For it is the Rock of Cashel that draws the tourist, a great hillock on one side of the town with an accumulation of historical and religious ruins, that make this one of the Must-Dos. 

St Patrick’s Rock, aka The Rock of Cashel, one of Ireland’s most historic sites, was the seat of the kings of Munster from the 4^th century until 1101, when it was presented to the Church, a move with more political than altruistic motive. On the Rock, beyond the ticket office where we waved our magical English Heritage card, there are several structures, or the remains of which, to be seen. 

The first is Cormac’s Chapel built by Cormac Mac Carthaigh, King of Munster, about 1130, the most remarkable Romanesque Church in Ireland. More recently this has undergone nearly a decade of restoration and is now only open to view by specially timed tours which are an add-on to the general entry fee. A video shows the restored frescos and other decorations to be quite stunning, suggesting we should have hung around longer to join a later tour but lingering in the rain is not really our idea of fun.

The second is St Patrick’s Cathedral, built in the 13^th century and in continued use right up until 1647. The Castle, the bishop’s residence attached to the cathedral, is where the Earl of Inchiquin massacred hundreds in 1647.

Then there is the Round Tower, the oldest structure here, built in the 12^th century, standing twenty eight metres tall, and the Hall of the Vicar’s Choral, built by Archbishop O’Hedian in the 15^th century, not to forget the replica of the St Patrick’s Cross standing out in the rain surrounded by a number of rather weird and whacky myths.

Below the site, amid fields of grazing dairy cows, are the ruins of Hore Abbey, so named for the grey gowned monks who once lived here. This can be accessed by foot after leaving the Rock, something I would certainly have wished to do had the rain passed. 

After wandering around the site with other rain soaked tourists, we joined a three quarter hour guided tour and learned much about the history of the place, something the visitor should make a point of doing because the signage is scant and the guide fills in all that is missing and more.

Soon after we set off back toward Limerick, this time travelling on a more northern rural roundabout route, through Dundrum, Annacarty and Doon before picking up the busier highways, by now the rain having moved elsewhere and the sun making some attempt to shine. We came via the Crescent Shopping Centre in Dooradoyle on the southern edge of the city, where we shopped again at the Tesco Superstore in readiness for our next move. It is always as if we do not expect the next unknown destination capable of providing for our catering needs, still better to be safe than sorry.