Pilgrimage 1; Michael Collins

Since my first visit to Ireland in the autumn of 2011 I have become a zealous student of irish history.  Michael Collins was an important irish nationalist leader.  A signatory to the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty Collins subsequently found himself leader of the pro-treaty faction of nationalists in opposition to DeValera's anti-treaty faction.  In 1922 Collins was ambushed and shot by anti-treaty supporters.  This post is a record of my pilgrimages to Collins' birthplace, his home for one of his teenage years in Clonakilty and to the memorial to his death in a gun battle after being ambushed.

Michael Collins birthplace, Woodfield, near Clonakilty.

View from Collins' birthplace dwellings over the remains of the fine house built by his father and destroyed during the civil war of 1922.

The house in Clonakilty in which, from 1904 until 1905 Michael Collins lived with his sister Margaret.

Memorial to the fatal ambush of Michael Collins.

The roadside memorial purports to mark the site of the killing, by pro-treaty forces, of Michael Collins.

The Michael Collins website (http://generalmichaelcollins.com), however, has this to say concerning the monument: "The Collins monument stands on the right-hand side of the road from Newcestown to Beal-na-mBlath. It was erected in 1924 on two roods of land purchased by the Irish National Army. Why it was erected on that particular position is a mystery since it does not mark the spot nor even the side of the road where he died. Perhaps the engineers siting the monument decided that it would be unwise to erect it close to the stream on the left hand side and choose a site which allowed adequate space for military honours to be rendered to the First Commander-in-Chief.

The author's memory of the place in the early 1930's is of a narrow twisted road with a continuous strip of grass in the centre and a mud bank on the left-hand side close to the stream (the little river Noneen). There was very little tree or scrub growth. Since then, the Cork County Council have widened and surfaced the road. In the process they have removed the mud bank in places but, more importantly the curve in the road for a length of over 200 yards has been removed. It is important to remember that the road and road fence were differently aligned in 1922 when the Collins convoy passed that way."

Saturday 17th; to the Airport.

Clonakilty

Another fine sunny start to the day.  During the morning a drive to Cork Airport to pick up chum Linda who will be staying nearby for the coming week.  Midway along our route we stopped for a while to explore Clonakilty; childhood home of Michael Collins (of whom there will be more on a subsequent post);  source of the celebrated Clonakilty black pudding and venue for the globally unique "Random Acts of Kindness Festival", a festival which aims to celebrate the welcoming and warm hearted nature of the Irish people as a whole. The catchphrase of the July Festival is; "Cut the Misery and Spread the Positivity".

Animal sculptures, Clonakilty

Thursday 16th; Mizzen Head

Close to Mizzen Head, Barley Cove beach and sand dunes were created by the tidal wave which followed the Lisbon earthquake of 1755.

Mizzen head is often claimed to be the most south westerly point of Ireland but it is not quite that.  Early in the C20th Marconi had telecommunications laboratories here and at other places on the Mizzzen Head peninsular including Crookhaven where I had an excellent crab salad and stout lunch.

Crookhaven

 

Friday 17th; Clear Island

Built late in the C19th n the site of an earlier beacon, the Baltimore Beacon marks the one of the hidden entrances to Baltimore Harbour; the other is marked by the lighthouse on Sherkin Island.

On this first dry, still and sunny morning since arriving here in Ireland almost a week ago I took a ferry to Clear Island.  Later in the year, when the sea is warmer than its present 7° there will be whales in these waters; today I saw only birds.  Clear island, Ireland's most southerly inhabited island, lies 13 kms off the mainland coast.

On the island I visited Ed Harper at his remote goat farm.  An engaging character, Ed came to Clear Island over thirty years ago from his native Manchester to establish his goat farm.  A master of caprine husbandry of which he is a willing teacher, Ed is passionate about goats.  He is also a collector and performer of folk songs.  Since he was three years old, Ed has been totally blind which, for me, makes his story extraordinary.

Ed Harper

Sunday 12th May - at home

Photographed Saturday 18th May when the sun came out.

After ten days of travelling, a day settling in to our comfortable temporary home was most welcome.  The foul weather did not matter, in fact, by deterring any desire to go out of the house it was probably an advantage.

10 May, au revoir to France - 11th May, hello again to Ireland!

From Quintin to the ferry port at Roscoff, from where I had a passage booked to Cork, is but a hundred kilometres or so and I had about nine hours in which to cover that distance.  I chose to drive directly to Roscoff and to spend what would be my last day in France for a while pottering about the sunny seaside town.

The huge ferry Brittany Ferries' 'Pont Aven' left on time at eight-thirty and, despite its size (42,000 tons) was soon pitching and rolling through a heavy swell and continued to do so throughout the night.  The restaurant on this ship was far and away the best in which I have eaten on any ship on which I have previously sailed.

The heavy sea did not prevent the Pont Aven from docking on time at Cork but unloading of vehicles, and passing through immigration and customs controls took almost two hours.  I eventually arrived, twenty minutes late, at Cork City bus station, where I had planned to rendezvous at eleven o'clock with Lisi who had travelled overnight by bus and ferry from London.

After a light lunch in Skibbereen and a tour of the supermarket to stock ourselves with food we checked in at the cottage we have rented for the next month and found it to be very comfortable and, in every respect, an ideal place for us to relax and 'take-five' on life.

Towards Baltimore

9th May, to Brittany

The breakfast room at La Couyère

After breakfast in another of the converted farm buildings at La Couyère I pressed on into Brittany to the old town of Quintin where my room for the night was in a rambling old stone building full of quirky ornaments and decorations.  My huge room had a window overlooking a garden across which, several years previously, a tree had fallen but had not been removed.  The house was a delight in which to spend a night but I was less than comfortable in the eerily dead town which appeared to have no life in it whatsoever.  If there were any beings in Quintin they keept themselves very quiet and well concealed.

Garden feature at Le Clos du Prince, Quintin

The breakfast table at Le Clos du Prince where nothing matched but everything looked good.