Today
was our last chance to explore the area accessible from Killarney, although I
realise that this statement in itself is subjective; there will be some tourists
who do a day trip around the Ring of Kerry from their hotel in Dublin, or some
similar extreme example. I grant the fact that we have been on the move ever
since we arrived in Ireland on 31 July, and it has been tiring, in fact
yesterday I would have even said exhausting.
I
offered The Chauffeur a range of itineraries for the day, from doing absolutely
nothing, to checking out the town of Killarney which we had still to do and then
spending the rest of the day fudging out, or perhaps a gentle walk up in the
Killarney National Park, or the option he chose: a drive south across the Beara
Peninsula down into County Cork and returning via the road we had ommitted from
our exterior travelling circle coming up from Cork.
So
off we set, first heading back toward Cork on the N22 before heading westward
onto the R569 across mountainous land to Kenmare which we had briefly touched
on yesterday. The forecast suggested the day would be cloudy and rain would not
set in until late in the afternoon, or rather a severe storm arrive from the
west, but none of this to deter our plan for the day. The cloud was low but we
still were able to enjoy the starkness of the countryside, the barren bare rock
in places, and the godforsaken plots of land that the occupants try to carve a
living from, although surely most of them must live off welfare payouts, or
communte to jobs in the towns.
We
easily found a park in Kenmare, despite the odd coaches and the independant tourists
drifting about. Our first destination was the Information Centre which doubles
as the Heritage Centre. Our timing was such that we were nearly convinced to
join an hour and a half walking tour of
the town, an attractive propersition until we learned we would have to fork out
€10 each for the privelege. I understand that these people
have to make a living and drawing on the tourist dollar while the sun shines,
or might do, is what it’s all about. I am sure too that the ten or so folk who
were already to head off with the vivacious tour guide would have been most satisfied
with their tour. But for us we were happier to revert to Plan A, some quiet time spent in
the Heritage Centre, which was very very good.
The
history of the town and environs is spelled out in detail, from the mystery of
the stone circles on the edge of town, the horde of bronze objects dug up in
our lifetime, and the history of the town from the time that Sir William Petty established a settlement/plantation scheme here
around 1670 comprised of English, Cornish and Welsh protestants, which of
course you can imagine went down like a lead balloon.
Actually the descendants of this William
Petty, starting with the 1st Marquis of Lansdowne, who in 1781
became Prime Minister of England, did take a serious interest in his Kerry
lands. A new and efficient agent was appointed in 1773 and new settlers were
encouraged by promises of rent free building sites and cheap lands. He renamed
the town Kenmare and initiated plans for a new town to be laid out in an
X-plan. In the 1790s major building works were funded including a market house,
a school and an inn. The building works
of these years brought skilled tradesmen and labourers as settlers to Kenmare,
but bad communications and the isolated location held back economic expansion.
By the mid-19th century new
roads had improved the accessibility of Kenmare, making the delivery of butter
to Cork markets easier and encouraging tourists to visit the town. In 1836, the
3rd Maquis opened the Kenmare pier and in 1840 laid the foundation
stone of a suspension bridge, the first of its kind in Ireland. This was superseded
in 1933 by a less impressive structure but it did manage to hold when we
travelled across it later in the morning, unlike that in Genoa this last week.
But all this good work was to no avail
when the Great Famine arrived in the mid-1840s. Between 1841 and 1851 Kenmare’s
population shrank by about 30%; at least 5,000 people died of starvation and
disease and more than 4,600 emigrated.
The Lansdownes were a cultured, scholarly
family with their hearts in England, where they had distinguished political
careers. Their Kerry tenants were left to the mercy of their agents, some of
whom were most unscrupulous. But in the end the buck stops with the Boss, as is
being expressed this very week regarding the Philadelphia priestly sex scandals,
the Catholic hierarchy in the USA and the Pope who is due to arrive here in just
one week.
The most notorious of the Lansdowne
agents was William Trench, agent from 1849 to 1859, who was delegated to deal
with the horrors of the famine years. Two hundred workhouse inmates were
selected each week for despatch to America or Canada, a total of 4,616 from
here over four years at a cost of £17,059 to the Lansdowne estate. This
emigration scheme was bitterly opposed and there were many claims of forced
emigration. The aftermath of this could be argued a thousand ways, but it
cannot avoid the fact it was horrendous.
Although Kenmare remained in essence a
landlord’s estate town, by the end of the 19th century it began to
acquire a strong Catholic and Nationalist ethos due to the rise of a new
catholic middle class. As the Government’s Land Acts began to take effect,
tenants became the real owners of their land and many joined nationalist
organisations like Sinn Fein and the Gaelic League. In common with the rest of
Ireland, there were anxious times during the Troubles from 1916 to 1921 and the
Civil War from 1921 to 1923. In 1922 Dereen House, home to the Lansdownes, was
burned down. Gradually the link with the Lansdownes was broken and the estate
sold. The Protestant population declined and their church at Kilgarven fell
into decay.
After devouring this fascinating history
which I realise could be duplicated in a hundred or more other places about the
country, and understanding all over again the very good reasons the Irish have
to despise the English, we set off on foot to see the Stone Circle which at
about seventeen metres is supposed to be the largest of its kind in Kerry. As
we approached the entrance in the wall, we spotted the little wooden hut
housing the collector of fees and decided that this was just another cluster of
stones after all.
Instead we wandered up and down the three
commercial streets, the shops stuffed full of woollen knitwear, souvenirs of
every kind, and the rest cafes offering refuge from the unpleasant outdoor weather.
We checked out the exterior of the Holy Cross Catholic Church consecrated only
in 1864 mentioned in the Heritage Centre, then the pier down on the wide
Kenmare River, known locally as Kenmare Bay, a forty kilometre long inlet of
sea that separates the Kerry Peninsulas of Iveragh and Beara. From here we had
views through the misty rain to the bridge that had superseded the previous suspension
version, however it was not really a day to linger out of doors.
We then headed south across the base of
the Beara Peninsula over the Caha Mountains, a wonderful journey with
spectacular views and a road not recommended for HGVs and buses. This would be
mainly because of the several tunnels cut through the hard rock as the road
passes around the mountain sides.
We stopped at Molly Gallivan’s, the recreation
of the dwelling and farmyard of an enterprising widow with seven small
children. In the 1840s when this pass was constructed over the mountains
linking West Cork with South Kerry, Molly saw an opportunity to save herself
and her brood from the workhouse or worse, and set up a refreshment stop,
offering home baking and teas and the odd drop of her home made Poitin. She
eventually set up here own cottage industry, selling hand spun woollens and her
own style of Aran sweaters which became known worldwide. Local farmers supplied
wool for her growing business and neighbouring women helped with the spinning
and knitting.
In 2015 this centre was set up again to
celebrate that enterprising woman and of course to generate an income for the
family who purchased the property in 1999 from the last of her descendants.
The setup is tasteful and the sale goods
of good quality. It is worth stopping here if only for the views although these
would have been better on a sunny day.
A little further on we reached the summit
of the pass, crossing the County border into Cork, then descended sharply
toward Bantry Bay, that expanse of water between the Beara Peninsula and that
to the south. Near the village of Glengarriff , we pulled into the 300 hectare Nature
Reserve bearing the same name, lunched a la voiture then set off for a short
one kilometre walk up to Lady Bantry’s Lookout, from where we had views back up
the mountain, and down across the village into the Bay. The track is steep,
comprised of many steps but the woodland one passes through is quite lovely;
lots of holly, ancient sessile oaks and birch.
After such a burst of energy, we drove on
down to the village, a charming strung out collection of hotels, restaurants, a
chemist and small grocery store and not much else, aside from the many tourists
who were wandering about undeterred by the lack of sunshine.
We wandered down to the wharf from where
one can catch a ferry across to an island garden, apparently quite a wonderful
attraction, but we did not particularly wish to set out on the water even for
such a short distance.
After ice-creams and further exploration
of the river, we set off once more, now heading home via the R184, a route across
the Shehy Mountains then down into the Lee Valley, that upstream from the Lee Valley
we had explored whilst camped at Blarney. We emerged on to the N22 near
Macroom, now a familiar town, and after making our way through the traffic
logged centre, travelled north over the Derrydesaggart Mountains back to
Killarney.
Soon after dinner, the weather packed up
even more, the forecasted storm bringing strong winds and squalls of rain.
Hopefully the storm will have passed on by the time we pack up camp tomorrow
ready to move north to our next base.
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