Blaney Caravan Park, County Fermanagh, Ulster

                                           

Even, after yesterday’s outing it was obvious that we had short changed ourselves with our time here, hence we phoned up the next camp booked and delayed our arrival with the promise of extending beyond the original five days. This afternoon we went across to the camp office and extended our stay here a further two days, a welcome “inconvenience” to our hosts given the lack of numbers swelling the camp site. 

School reopened last week for the 2018-19 year in the Republic and yesterday here and across the two channels, removing the influx of school holiday travellers. For us, this is a plus, but not quite so welcome for those who rely on the seasonal holiday trade.

It seems that we have fallen into one of Ireland’s treasure counties, the Fermanagh lakes and waterways, the forests and geo-parks, the history and architecture, all in the one small area to occupy the tourists’ attention, none of this known to us before arrival. 

Yesterday morning we set off down the lakeside to explore the county town of Enniskillan, a modest rural town with less than 14,000 inhabitants, but set in a unique spot between the Lower and Upper Lough Erne, the town centre on an island in the middle of the River Erne.

The town is a mere four hundred years old, founded by a charter of King James I in 1612 which grew as a plantation town under the guidance of Captain William Cole. But that is of course if you disregard the previous occupants who were booted out by the British. This was formerly a stronghold of the medieval chieftains of Maguire. Earliest records make reference to Enniskillan Castle in 1439, in the Annuls of Ulster, the castle having been built for Hugh “The Hospitable” Maguire in this strategic position guarding one of the few passes into Ulster.

When William Cole was granted the lease of Enniskillen castle and island, he was required to oversee the building of a church, cemetery, market house, prison, courthouse and school.

By the beginning of the 19^th century, Enniskillen was a thriving town with buoyant fairs and markets. A good export trade in linen brought prosperity to the town, and small industries developed including leather, eel-fishing, brewing and distilling.

Enniskillen grew too as a garrison town, the threat of war with France leading to more defences. The Royal Military barracks were built within in the castle precinct, so much of the castle as such, now all part of the museum, was absorbed into later reincarnations.

The arrival of the rail boosted trade in cattle, pigs and all agricultural produce. The main markets however were for flax, potatoes, corn and butter. The population grew as a result with impressive public buildings constructed: a hospital, a new gaol, a new town hall and several churches. 

Fermanagh was affected just as much as anywhere else through the mid-1800s. When the Poor Law was introduced in England in 1834, extended to Ireland four years later, workhouses were constructed to handle the growing number of the destitute here as elsewhere. Of course this set up was not designed to cope with the consequences of crop failure and starvation that was still to come. Three workhouses were built in Fermanagh, one in Enniskillen, another in Lisnaskea and the third in Lowerstown.

The first sighting report of potato blight in Ulster was in this county on 28 August 1845, and by early September blight was reported throughout Ireland.

This summary therefore goes to prove that Enniskillen, apart from the unique fact of being the only island town in Ireland, has shared the same turbulent history as the rest of the country.

I had however hoped to learn more about more recent political turbulence I had read about, that relating to the IRA bomb which killed eleven and injured sixty one others on Remembrance Day in 1987 here in Enniskillen. The resulting outrage was instrumental in directing part of the Republican movement toward seeking a political solution to the Troubles. Perhaps I did not look hard enough here or perhaps it is something those in Enniskillen would prefer to forget.

Yesterday morning we took our television into town with us, that which has been no more than a dust collecting decoration in our caravan for over a month. (Actually it is not "our"televison but my brother-in-law's, all the more important to have fixed.)  Chris had tried unsuccessfully to tune it in when we arrived in Dublin and instead totally stuffed the set up. We took it to a television technician who operates out of a cave-like arrangement in the ground floor of an ancient stone building, surrounded in discarded parts and monitors, finding his way through from entry to workshop by stepping over and under the obstacle course of trade paraphernalia. When Chris suggested we should pay him cash, I agreed that would be the only way he could possibly operate. Any EFTPOS machine that might have once graced his reception counter would have been long lost in the mountains of mess. He was very helpful and not only did he retune the magic machine, thus bringing happiness and contentment once more to my dear husband, but he repaired the earphone input thingy, bringing happiness and contentment to myself. This man, who no doubt has some sort of system in his chaos, deserves a medal aside from the cash we paid.

From the car park near his premises, we walked into town, across one of the bridges that takes traffic in, across and off the island, finding our way up the main street variously named; Ann, Darling, Church, High, Townhall and East Bridge Streets, until we crossed off the island and were confronted by a hill, Fort Hill which promised splendid views over this fascinating lake, river and urban layout.

My husband grudgingly followed me up the hill, both of us huffing and puffing, and not as fit as we might pretend to be. At the top, surrounded by the sound of wonderful birdlife, the cries of hundreds of children in a playground to the east and some monotonous industrial noise to the immediate north, we admired the Coles Monument and the dense woodland, the latter screening any views that might have otherwise been enjoyed.  

Back down on the island, we made our way to the Castle which houses the museum, paid the appropriate modest entry fee and took our time wandering about the various exhibition sites throughout the precinct.

There is a small art gallery with work by William Scott, T P Flanagan and Kathleen Bridle which was most pleasing, leaving the visitor wanting more of the same. 

A few years ago a curator was engaged to upgrade the museum, and much of the collection acquired over the decades was stripped out and stored away. This means there is little chance for the visitor to be bored or confused by too much information or too much matter. 

Here we learned about the crannogs, dwellings basically on floating islands, built up over the centuries of layers of timber, uncovered only recently by teams of archaeologists.  There are approximately two thousand crannogs in Ireland, concentrated in south Ulster and north Connaught.

The pottery industry of Belleek, the little border settlement passed through the day before was given a special mention and there were samples of the output displayed, little of it particularly appealing to me. Interestingly Belleek Pottery was established in 1857 by landlord John Caldwell Bloomfield of Castle Caldwell, hoping to provide much needed employment in the area after the disastrous years of famine. At least that is the philanthropic take on the genesis of the industry.

Here too we learned of all the natural wonders of the county, watching short videos of aerial views of the many islands that pepper the loughs of the area and the many very early archaic rock markings from the first Christian period. We learned too that the television series Game of Thrones has used some of this stunning scenery, a fact that surprises only because it seems to be the only one which has, or at least give any mention.

We lunched down by the lake edge, returning again to the museum to check out the section about the Inniskilling Regiment and their noble efforts through the centuries. This kind of exhibition does not normally excite me much, however special attention had been given to include facets of the social history which tends to interest women more than the design and killing power of military weapons.

It was still early in the afternoon when we returned to the car, and while I was keen to visit one of the National Trust properties on our itinerary, I could see Chris was keen to get home to try the television out, so home we came. The television worked and order was once more restored to our happy home.

This morning we headed off back toward Enniskillan, then down the eastern side of Upper Lough Erne, through Lisnaskea before turning toward the lake shore and the National Trust property of Crom.

Of the three National Trust properties I had earmarked for possible visiting, this seemed to be the least exciting, suggesting a nature trail through a few old ruins, and perhaps one could describe it thus on a bad day. We arrived soon after the gates were open but before the visitor centre had done so, allowing us time to enjoy a leisurely morning tea out of the back of the car and check out the plan of the estate. Here beside the lake, taking into account the views of a fairyland castle glimpsed on the way in, this looked far more exciting than initially suggested.

The National Trust does promote the property for its biodiversity rather than its history, probably because the wonderful castle is still occupied by the folk who handed over the rest of the estate to the Trust and who guard their privacy and that of their residence from the general public. Crom is best visited by those who love to walk through woodland or wander along lakeshores. Here on the estate apart from those very private folk of so-called noble birth, are red squirrels, pine martins, a multitude of bird species, butterflies, dragonflies and damselflies, and eight species of bats.

But apart from the natural wonders, there is also important history to explain the ruins and those structures still standing. It came as no surprise that Old Castle Crom owes its origin to the Plantation of Ulster. In 1610 Michael Balfour from Scotland was granted 1,500 acres of former Maguire land, with the requirement that he build a fortified residence and farm 450 acres of the land. The castle was built in 1619 to command a section of the River Erne.

In 1624 Crom was leased to James Spottiswood, Bishop of Clogher whose daughter, Mary, was married to Abraham Creighton, thus the Creighton family came to Crom and have stayed albeit along the normal convoluted routes of descendancy.

Crom Castle was caught up in the battles of the late 1600s but held up until 1764 when it was gutted by fire. However it was many years before a new castle was built, because the family spent most of their time in Dublin where John Crichton was involved in politics. He was created Viscount Erne in 1780 and Earl of Erne in 1789. 

Eventually the English architect Edward Blore was commissioned to build a new castle at Crom. This was completed in 1838 but it too was largely destroyed by fire in 1841 and had to be rebuilt. While the new castle was under construction, the park was laid out by the water-colourist and landscape designer William Gilpen. This included parterres by the house, an arboretum and a deer park, the first of these certainly not visible to the visitor if it still exists at all and the deer park quite empty today.

The family continued their tenure, however the first half of the 20^th century saw a series of untimely deaths; the 4^th Earl died in 1914, the 5^th Earl was killed in Dunkirk in 1840 when his son was a mere three years old. However this story has been echoed through the ages with kings and earls and lords from everywhere, especially in long past history.

During the Second World War, while the estate was under the control of trustees on behalf of the infant owner, soldiers, both British and American, were stationed here, as they were all over Britain. This lasted until 1944 when the estate was handed back to the trustees.

Today after checking out the excellent little museum in the visitor centre, we set off along the lakeshore to the ruins, then past the old boathouse below the still occupied castle, across the narrow road bridge to Insisherk Island, built in 1961 replacing the earlier 1836 structure. We checked out the walled garden, a once productive 1.2 hectare garden providing fruit, vegetables and flowers for the castle and the demesne, built between 1832 and 1834. Glass houses which were removed in the 1960s originally ran the whole length of the north side, but the whole enterprise went into decline during the 20^th century and was eventually abandoned in the 1960s.

To our absolute delight we encountered one little red squirrel as we returned to the mainland, but our search for a pine martin went unrewarded. Recently there was a group of scouts who camped here on the estate and during the night, a pine martin, or maybe a whole tribe of them, managed to open a closed box and get away with a number of sausages, leaving only the gluten free more healthy options. It would seem that the pine martins resident here on the estate have become quite relaxed about the human activity about and are quite brazen, rather like the possums DownUnder.

We learned another interesting fact about these little creatures and their co-inhabitants, the red squirrel. Some years ago, there was an active cull of the grey squirrel here, and since then the pine martins have kept their numbers low, thus protecting the red squirrel who is more at risk. The red squirrel are smaller than their grey cousins and are able to escape to the furthest extent of branches, where the heavier pine martins dare not venture. I thought this whole story a rather wonderful one of natural control of native populations.

Back at the car park, after a late lunch, we popped back into the Visitor Centre to ask about the resident of the “new” castle and learned that the current Earl who is now in his late forties, resides there, the castle and the immediate surrounds still in the family hands.

We left delighted to have made the effort to visit, all the more so because it had not been on our original itinerary from our Blaney Camp, but then we have extended to include such add-ons. Our route now took us further south down the lakeside, crossing the border into County Cavan at Wattlebridge, continuing a little further on to Butler’s Bridge where we turned north again, following the western shore of the lake, crossing the border yet again north of Kilconney, continuing to Enniskillen where we refuelled before heading home.