Salthill Caravan Park, County Galway, Connaught

Ireland has been immersed in matters all about the Papal visit this weekend, and it was not just the Pope watchers this morning who were concerned about the weather; we were not happy with the heavy rain that had persisted all night and on rising, didn’t look like going away anytime soon. I delayed making lunch until the Chauffeur announced there was no point in sitting around waiting for it to clear, and that we had no days up our sleeves to hang about contemplating our navels; all very true.

Rather than adhere to our strict Day Three Galway Itinerary, we skipped through to Day Four which was a more loose arrangement, which better served our purposes today. As a guide only, most of the to-dos on the list were omitted and others slotted in.

East Galway was the destination for the day, with no expectations of extensive coastal or mountainous views, although had the weather been better, we might have caught sight of the Slieve Aughty Mountains immediately to the south of Loughrea.

We headed directly east along the M6, that which would have taken us through to the afternoon papal mass in Dublin if we had had a mind to attend. Instead we left the motorway at Junction 16 before we were obliged to pay the toll, and headed south east around the outskirts of Loughrea, intending to visit this later in the day, and on down the appallingly bad surface of the N65 to Portumna. 

On arrival we found our way to the northern lake shore, or more correctly the marina where about a dozen motorhomes were lined up plugged into power for a more reasonable tarriff of €10 per night. We admired the facility, the single swan swimming rapidly to greet us and the rather ugly goose who was not interested in us at all. 

Lough Derg, the aforementioned lake, is part of the River Shannon waterway, and covers an area of 890 hectares. While appearing initially to be a boaty’s paradise, it is in fact quite shallow, making it dangerous during bad weather, however it does make for good fishing of pike, perch and brown trout. 

Back past the ruins of the friary to the town, we purchased morning tea then retired to the car park of Portumna Castle to enjoy our booty, before setting off through the grand castle gates to see what there was to see. 

The early 17th century fortified mansion, grandly named a “castle” is merely the remnants of its past life. The 4^th Earl of Clanricarde, a convoluted descendant of the de Burgo, the Red Earl of Galway, carried out an extensive building programme in Ireland and England from about 1610. The Earl’s castle at Portumna was a huge undertaking and cost in the region of £10,000 to complete. Prior to his building of this great house, the principal seat of the Clanricardes was the castle at Loughrea. He also undertook the repair, building and refurbishment of several other properties such as Meelick, Loughrea, Aughnanure, Shrule, Milltown, Athenry and a house at Terrylands which is now a suburb of Galway. Other Clanricarde properties at that time included Clarecastle, Oranmore and Kilcolgan castles. His English seat at Somerhill near Trowbridge in Kent was built before 1613. In short, he was far more avarice than any of those you read about in the gossip columns of modern times.  

The property here at Portumna remained in the family through the centuries, albeit stepping sideways, and then sideways again, then yet again through the ages, until 1808 when six year old Ulick John de Burgh inherited the property along with the title of 14^th Earl and Marquess of Clanricarde (3^rd creation) and baron of Somerhill, Kent; quite a mouthful and responsibility for one small boy. Fortunately there was Mum to step in and take the helm until he became of age. Ulick who was described as being immensely rich, married Harriet, daughter of the Prime Minister George Canning.

But in 1826 Portumna Castle was destroyed by an accidental fire, leaving a roofless ruin. While Ulick immediately had a replacement one built less than a mile away, the burnt out ruins sat untouched through well into the next century.

Ulick did beget a son and heir, the useless and unpopular Hubert George de Burgh Canning who succeeded after the death of his older brother. He died without issue and the title passed to a cousin, and the estates were inherited by a great nephew, Henry Lascelles, 6^th Lord Harewood who married Princess Mary, the Princess Royal of England.

Despite these grand connections, the house continued to languish in its death throes, the great ornamental chimney stacks subsequently collapsing and one of the internal spine walls of the house and the estate buildings degenerating into ruins.

In 1968 the Commissioners of Public Works acquired the castle for preservation as a National Monument and major conservation works have continued on through the decades. Even now, while the roof securely protects the structure from the external elements, and basic internal floors have been inserted to hold everything in place, the part open to the public is just a section of the ground floor, where one can learn much about the restoration work that has been carried out and the history of its past residents.

But in reality, while there are homeless on the streets of Dublin, one is led to ask, why should so much money be spent here? And I am sure many millions have already been so, and there will be many more to come. I guess it does serve to teach and pass on the tradesmanship that will be otherwise lost, because all of this is being done in the old fashioned way.

We spent some time in the walled kitchen garden, full of herbs and vegetables and sunflowers, as well as an area to attract wildlife. As I learned this particular fact I wondered whether the “wildlife” included the likes of Peter Rabbit, who, in his recent film, had not exactly been a gardener’s best friend. 

By the time we came away from the house, the hordes were starting to arrive, all in response to the free entry for the day, heralded by the last day of Heritage Week. We retreated to the car and headed across the town to the Irish Workhouse Centre. Here too entry was being offered for free and refreshments being offered. After watching the DVD in the kitchen over our cups of tea, we dropped our donation into the appropriate box, then spent a little while in the exhibition room before joining one of the timed guided tours.

The current exhibition is sculptural works by Kieran Tuohy, titled “Dark Shadows’, conveying the devastating cruelty of the Great Famine using the medium of bog oak. The figures are very moving as well as exhibiting the wonderful talent of this artist. 

We were equally consumed by the tour of this workhouse, still pretty much as it was when it was handed over to the government in 1922 and barely used again until the concept of heritage attraction came up.  One hundred and sixty three workhouses operated in Ireland from the early 1840s through to the early 1920s, the first ones started even before the famine. The building of these was commissioned by the British government who put out a competition for the design of the structures. Twenty four year old Oxfordshire man George Wilkinson came up with a design to please the judges, and it is he who was responsible for these houses of horror, although he was not to know the tricks and hardships that would be played against the inmates. Building began in 1840 and was completed in 1853, this one in Portumno one of the thirty three built after the famine.

Our young guide, a history graduate with a passion for her subject, spent an hour with us, leading us around the sections of the building that have been restored and explaining the history and lives of those who lived and worked in these institutions. It was all quite fascinating. 

From here we travelled north again, this time to the village of Aughrim, back up near the M6, where one of the bloodiest and most decisive battles of Irish history was fought on 12 July 1691, a year after the Battle of the Boyne. It was actually this and not the previous battle that decided the future of Ireland, or at least for a time after that. The Battle of the Boyne had been more famous in that it was there that the two squabbling kings, James and his son-in-law William came face to face, but by the time the slaughter of Aughrim came about, the chiefs had returned to the relative comfort of their wives and mistresses, and left the grim business of war to their underlings.

Here at Aughrim, the two sides were of similar size and after a year of skirmishes, all fit and battle ready. The Williamite army, comprising Dutch, Danish, German, Huguenot, English, Scottish and Anglo-Irish troops, was commanded by a Dutch general, Godard de Ginkel. The Irish or Jacobite army was commanded by a French general, the Marquis de St Ruth. The Jacobites numbered just over 17,000, the Williamites marginally more.

The blood thirsty details of the battle are well explained in the exhibition, and in a DVD that could be improved upon.  It began in the afternoon and for a while it looked like the Jacobites had the upper hand. But then a chance cannon blew the head off St Ruth and his troops immediately lost heart having lost their leader and with it any courage they might have been able to draw upon. It was a total blood bath, much in a bog, and perhaps it is because of this no one has been too ready to set up a centre to remember the event. 

After Aughrim, the war came quickly to an end. Within a few weeks Galway surrendered. In September in Limerick, an agreement was negotiated and signed on 3 October. It was a treaty of surrender which allowed Jacobite forces to go to France and tried to get religious toleration of Irish Catholics. It sought to protect their property and their lives, but failed in its intention, for William III, under pressure from Parliament, failed to deliver on the Treaty’s commitments. The end of an era of anti-Catholic legislation and the memory of “the broken Treaty of Limerick” was etched in Irish minds.

The centre here was set up in memory of a history buff who understood the significance of this battle site, and with support from the local community, the council acquired the site and planned the project. It is not as “posh” as that on the River Boyne, and there is certainly room for improvement, but we were glad we had bothered to call. It is, after all, an important stage in the scene of Irish history.

After such a wealth of history to absorb for the day, we found our way back onto the M6 and headed back home. Despite the fact the weather had not really improved, we had managed to dodge the worst of it and still enjoy our day.