The Boyne valley

Time to head back to the east.  Destination the Boyne valley, just north-west of Dublin.  But first a tiki tour to get there - the last thing we want to do is jump on a motorway and see the country as a green blur.

Good news - I've mastered the Leon's Tiptronic transmission.  If you're in Drive, it jumps out of Manual.  But if you're in Sport, it stays.  Does it help with better compression braking on twisty roads?  Very marginally - changing down increases the revs, but doesn't appreciably slow the car.  The economy override is kicking in.  I despair, keep it in Sport mode, and wonder why anyone would ever buy an engine with such a narrow torque band that a transmission is needed.

North of Athlone is Lough Ree.  There's no lakeshore circumnavigation route, but with a bit of GPS wizardry we tuck into Portrunny, a lovely spot on the western side, and start learning about some of Ireland's early history.  

Now some may say these are myths, legends and fables, but to my mind they must have started from a grain of truth, but it is possible they have been elaborated a little over time.

Back in the first century BCE, warrior Queen Meadbh stole a brown bull from the Ulstermen.  In her old age she retired to Inchclearun, the island behind Pauline.  But Ulstermen have long memories, and when Forbaid learnt Meadbh was living on the island he plotted his revenge.  Having practiced with a slingshot for over a year, he lay in wait for Meadbh to bathe, took careful aim, and killed her instantly with a single stone. Does this have any bearing on the antipathy between Northern Ireland and the Republic?  You be the judge.  We'll hear more about the Cattle Raid of Cooley in due course - this story is just a minor spin-off.

On to Lanesborough at the top of the lake, and a huge industrial building comes into view.  Our mapping apps are unhelpful in identifying it, and we discover later that it was a peat-burning power station, operational from 1950 to 2020.  It is now fully decommissioned and is being dismantled.  Central Ireland used to run on peat.  Thousands of people were involved in cutting, drying, and transporting it for use as a fuel, but as we saw at the Clara bog, it comes with huge environmental degradation, not just on land but with CO2 emissions.  Today the peatlands are being re-wetted, the power stations are decommissioned, and solar and wind farms have taken their place.

On to the Corlea Trackway on the eastern side.  Situated on a bog not dissimilar to Clara, this one contains a mystery.  

It's a massive oak plank road on birch runners, 3-4m wide, built in 148–147 BCE, during the Iron Age.  An incredible engineering achievement stretching 2km over the bog.  But no one knows why it was built.  It wasn't a practical transport route, suggesting it had ceremonial or ritual significance.

Modern engineers know how difficult it is to build roads over bogs and swamps, with many different methods used to prevent the road from sinking.  Iron Age engineers didn't have access to the machinery, methods and materials we use today, and sadly this one sank after 10 years.  But the good news is that it's almost perfectly preserved due to the acidic and anaerobic conditions in the bog.  

There is a story to tell at Lough Derravaragh, half way to our destination in the Boyne Valley.  Our guide book hints at what we might or might not find.

Lir, a noble lord of the Tuatha Dé Danann, had four beloved children.  After his first wife died, he married Aoife, who grew jealous of the children’s closeness to their father.  In a moment of rage and envy, Aoife used dark magic to transform the children into swans, condemning them to wander Ireland’s waters for 900 years, 300 years of which were on Lough Derravaragh.  They could not regain human form until they heard the first ringing of Christian bells in Ireland.  Centuries later, the swans heard church bells from a small monastery in County Mayo.  They came ashore, aged instantly into frail humans, and died in the arms of the monks - finally at peace.

As we look out over Lough Derravaragh we don't see any swans, so figure there must certainly be a grain of truth to this story.  It's also an excellent spot for lunch.

And for fishing.

Only one pike, two trout and four coarse fish per day, please.

We have time to stop at the 12th century Trim Castle in the Boyne Valley before heading to the supermarket and our BnB.  It's the largest Anglo‑Norman castle in Ireland, and if you're a fan of Braveheart you may recognise it.  

As Cromwell advanced on it in the 1600s the inhabitants fled, starting the castle's demise.  An adjacent building looks like it's going the same way - I haven't seen spouting this bad for a while.

Our BnB located just north of Navan was fortunately in much better condition.

Day 2 - Tara, Newgrange and the Boyne

Just our luck.  We've booked ahead for Newgrange and the weather forecast isn't looking great with drizzle, rain and cooler temperatures forecast all day.  Good thing we brought our wet weather gear, and as two-wheelers say, says no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing.  Pauline's got her waterproof overpants from her motorcycling days ready to slip on, and ward away the rain.

First stop is the Hill of Tara, and the rain eases just as we arrive.  It's a series of earthworks, mounds and enclosures first established 4,000 years ago as a centre of kingship, ceremony and burial.

The Mound of the Hostages is a Neolithic passage tomb (c. 3200 BCE) used for burials and later as a symbolic “hostage” site for political alliances.

As you peer inside the bars you can see some of the early Neolithic art used to decorate the tombs.

The Lia Fáil (Stone of Destiny) is said to cry out when the rightful king touches it.  

I'm sure I felt a murmur, but not a cry.  Could perhaps have been my tummy rumbling.

The crows were also making excellent use of the signs.  I continue to be amazed by corvid intelligence, recently backed up by research that confirms parent crows teach their chicks whether particular humans are dangerous or not.  I can vouch for that based on local magpie behaviour.

A friendly American couple help us with a selfie.

You really need to have a sense of history and good imagination to get the most out of this place.  On face value it's some grassy mounds.  As a High King of Ireland it's your seat of spiritual and political power.

On our way down we spot St Patrick.  

You've likely heard the story of how he climbed a hill, rang a bell, and drove all the snakes of Ireland into the sea.  The problem is, snakes have never lived in post‑Ice Age Ireland.  Or have they?  We've seen Neolithic drawings of serpent symbols.  So did St Patrick banish actual snakes, or was this a symbol for the banishment of pagan religions?  Evidence suggests the latter, but I like the story.

But we haven't finished with burial mounds - we have Brú na Bóinne scheduled for after lunch.  It's the collective name for three great monuments - Dowth, Knowth, and Newgrange.  Our tour takes in the latter two.

We hop on our EV bus to check out Knowth first.  Our guide is explaining that Knowth has two long passage tombs, and is surrounded by 18 satellite tombs.  After a few entirely reasonable historic questions have been asked, I ask him what motorbike he rides.  I'm the only one who notices he wears gloves with reinforced knuckles.  He smiles and says he regrettably had to sell his Royal Enfield when he started developing vertigo-like symptoms when travelling at speed.

We couldn't look inside the burial chambers at Knowth, so on to Newgrange, perhaps the most famous of the mounds. 

It was built around 3200 BCE and is known for its winter solstice sunrise alignment.  Notice the roof-box above the door behind me.

In an incredible feat of engineering, on 21 December each year the winter sun passes through the roof-box, down a 19m passage, and illuminates a chamber for 17 minutes that is otherwise pitch‑black all year.  This level of precision rivals - and predates - Stonehenge and the Egyptian pyramids.  In small groups we're allowed into the chamber to view the burial site, the annexes and the corbelled roof, essentially a dome which could bear the weight of the stones and earth heaped upon it.  Amazing stuff.

After consulting our guidebook, the final task for the day is to find the Salmon of Knowledge.

Long ago, nine hazel trees grew around the Well of Segais, a sacred Otherworld spring.  Their nuts contained all the knowledge of the world - poetry, prophecy, truth, memory.  When the nuts fell into the water, a salmon ate them and became the Salmon of Knowledge, glowing with wisdom.  A poet named Finnéces spent seven years watching a deep pool on the River Boyne, waiting to catch the legendary fish foretold in prophecy.  A young boy named Demne came to study under him.  This boy would later be known as Fionn mac Cumhaill, Ireland’s greatest hero.

Pauline's pretty sure she's found Fec's pool.

Finnéces finally caught the salmon and asked Demne to cook it - warning him not to eat any.  While cooking, the boy burned his thumb, instinctively put it in his mouth, and absorbed the salmon’s wisdom.  Finnéces realised the prophecy had always meant someone named Fionn, not himself, and gave the salmon to the boy.  From then on, whenever Fionn needed insight, he placed his thumb to his mouth and the knowledge returned.

A lovely story of a young boy who gained wisdom not through ambition, but through a small accident that changed his destiny.

Might I be so lucky over dinner?

Depending on how the quality of this blog changes, you may have your answer.