Schull – Delving into History

Last week my post explored a part of the Colla Loop on the Fastnet Trails. That walk passed by a site described on Archaeology Ireland as a possible early Christian settlement: . . . the ancient school of Sancta Maria de Scholia, ‘a place known in early times as a centre of learning’ . . . That information was ascribed to ‘Burke 1914’ but I can find no links to that source anywhere. If anyone can enlighten me, that would be great.

The location of this possible site is in the gorse covered area on the right hand side of the picture above. There is nothing to be seen there today, although such dense scrub could be hiding a lot. That record on the archaeological site is now described as ‘redundant’ – because there is no trace – but is maintained as it does indicate that there has been a tradition of the associations of the place historically. Certainly, if you were a group of wandering monks in medieval times looking for a new home it would have much to commend it – a south facing slope, sweeping views to the ocean below and defensible high ground behind. Not much shelter from the weather, though. The map below shows the possible site on the lower left, but note there are two further candidates, which we will discuss.

I found the historical reference to this possible site intriguing, especially in view of the suggestion that it could have been the original ‘school’ (centre of learning) that supposedly gave the settlement of Schull its name. If you want to delve further into the origins of the name ‘Schull’ – which the Ordnance Survey, interestingly, insisted should be spelled Skull right up to modern times: you can see it on the the Archaeology Ireland record extract above – I commend you to John D’Alton’s fascinating and comprehensive article here. John himself is a well-known long term resident of the village; I would love to have a discussion with John (and likely will when times permit) on some of his conclusions, but he certainly lays the foundations for questioning long-held assumptions. He does, however, posit that the name of the place has sounded the same for over a thousand years. For me, it is reasonable to conclude that ‘Schull’ is most likely to derive from the Irish word scoil – school – and that a ‘centre of learning’ did, indeed, exist in the area anciently. There are precedents enough for sites like this in West Cork. Our own Rossbrin Castle was the home of Finnin O’Mahony – Taoiseach of the clan – in the late fifteenth century and he was known to have established what has been described as ‘the greatest centre of learning in Europe’ on these now remote and deserted shores, while the Sheep’s Head peninsula boasts the remains of a great medieval ‘Bardic School’ close to Kilcrohane. My post of (yes!) eight years ago gives a brief outline. But let’s now turn to those other sites shown above.

Here’s St Mary’s Church, the ruin which sits above – and dominates – the large burial ground to the south of Schull today. Tradition has it that it was built in 1720, but there is a fair bit of evidence to suggest that this ecclesiastical site goes back much further than that. I am indebted to Mary Mackey for her article in Mizen Journal – Volume 8, 2000: A Short History of the Ruins of St Mary’s Church, Colla Road, Schull.

The parish church is first recorded in a decretal letter issued in 1199 from Pope Innocent III to the Bishop of Cork listing the parishes in the diocese. The entry reads “scol cum suis pertinentiis” – Schull with its appurtenances. It is this early spelling of ‘scol’ meaning school which goes some way to authenticating the ancient tradition . . . During the reformation (16th century) when all church and monastic benefices and land were confiscated, the detailed rent roll for the Diocese of Cork records Schull with nine ploughlands, and in 1581 in a list of parishes in the diocese, Schull church is called “Saint Maria de Scoll”. This seems to be the first written record of the name of the church and it adds weight to the theory of the ancient monastic school, and to the origin of ‘Scoil Mhuire’ . . .

Mary Mackey – MiZEN Journal Volume 8

The same article notes that in 1653 the church commissioners stated “Upon 9 plowlands of Schull are the walls of a church” and in May 1700 Bishop Dive Downes, visiting the western part of his diocese records: “The church walls are standing and good, made of stone and lime 84′ long and 24′ broad”. Mackey comments that this was a large parish church compared with others in the Mizen area.

The local population will be very familiar with this ruin, and the graveyard which it overlooks. The grave marker (above) is dedicated to the Reverend Robert Traill – Finola has included him in her Saints and Soupers series. Schull graveyard must have one of the finest prospects of any burial place in the west, with its views out towards Long Island Sound and Roaringwater Bay:

In 1936 we find Con O’Leary writing in A Wayfarer in Ireland (published by R M McBride): . . . Schull, named from Scoil Mhuire, the School of Mary, in the sixth century, is picturesquely situated , with Long Island thrown across the mouth of the bay . . . Well, that’s stretching us back a fair bit – but there’s nothing to confirm it. In the ruins of the church, however, there is one element which leads us to think that the architecture is quite ancient – this cut-stone ogival window in the northeast wall (possibly fifteenth century):

Now let’s turn to the third candidate in our search for Schull’s origins as a ‘great centre of learning’ – shown on the map towards the top of this post to the south of St Mary’s Church. Here is the Archaeology Ireland listing and the record note:

Description: In rough grazing, on a S-facing slope overlooking Long Island to the S and Skull Harbour to the E. Recent reclamation work exposed a level earthen platform-like area (c. 35m E-W; c. 17m N-S) faced externally on its curving S side by a roughly constructed drystone revetment (H 0.2m at W to 1.6m at E). According to local information, this is the location of Scoil Mhuire or Sancta Maria de Scala, a medieval church and school that gave its name to this townland and to Skull village . . .


The Archaeological Inventory of County Cork. Volume 5 (Dublin: Stationery Office, 2009)

The prospect of unearthing ancient history sent us out into the field on an idyllic January day, under an almost surreal clear blue sky. We don’t exactly know what we found, but the expedition was rewarding, if only for the joy of walking through a beautiful country and knowing that other generations had walked here before us.

Always we were in sight of water, and the islands of the Bay beyond. We left the metalled boreen and found a narrow green path lined with old walls.

The path led to a sheltered paddock. We could clearly see the ‘level earthen platform-like area’ and the curved retaining wall supporting it: also, in several areas, there were the vestiges of old walls and probable structures. We immediately sensed the zeitgeist of a place which had tales to tell. Could it really be an early Christian settlement? Did the old stone walls echo the chanting of monks from long ago? Could we look through their eyes and see the grove of trees and the spectacular azure cast of the sea receding to the horizon across all the islands as they had?

The Historic 6″ Ordnance Survey map is the earliest record we have of what existed on the site: it dates, at the latest, from around 1840. There are buildings clearly shown. Could they have been simple farm cottages and barns? Might those buildings perhaps have incorporated much earlier structures?

There you have it: a creation tale (myth, perhaps) for Schull. I will give the last word to a pupil from ‘Skull School’, recorded in the 1930s:

The O’Mahony’s had a stronghold in Castle Island, which is known as the Middle Island. It is situated about three miles from the beautiful village of Schull, which lies by the harbour of the same name. Situated amid picturesque and varied scenery, nestling at the foot of Gabriel’s rough defiles, and fronting the wild Atlantic, it is a charming spot. It was anciently called Scoll Muire (B.V. Mary’s School) and in mediaeval documents it is designated “Sancta Maria de Scholia.” This school is said to have been founded by the “Universitie of Rosse, St.Fachtna’s Carbery”. However this may be – I doubt it – the parish is mentioned as Scol in the Papal Letters of Pope Innocent III. (1199 A.D.). Canon O’Mahony says its site has been identified in south Schull. At all events, Ardmanagh (Monks Hill), on which part of Schull is built, attests the presence of cenobites in the district . . .

Brighid Ní Choithir – Skull School – Dúchas Schools Folkore Collection 1937

Please note that the ‘Sancta Maria Scala’ site is on private land, and permission to visit should be sought.

Merchant, Miller, Smuggler: James O’Sullivan and Roaring Water

If you park your car at Kilcoe Church, at Meen Bridge on the N71 between Skibbereen and Ballydehob, and walk straight south, you arrive at a picturesque pier – a quiet backwater of leafy boreens. This is the outlet for the Roaring Water River (yes, that’s how the river is spelled on the OS maps), which rises on the southern slopes of Mount Kidd, a bare 6km away. Despite the short distance, this little river is a notable torrent by the time it reaches the sea, and it is said that the noise it made as it rushed over the rocks and weirs in its last stretch gave its name not only to the river but also to Roaringwater Bay (and yes, that’s how the Bay is spelled on the OS maps). 

Your walking route from Kilcoe Church to the pier takes you along the river. Here and there are perilous but satisfying opportunities to hop over a wall, hang on to branches and lean out to see over the river. This is a marvellous stretch of road in spring and early summer, with the river full on and hosting a riot of Marsh-marigold, and the banks heady with Whitethorn and Guelder-rose.

Eventually, you arrive at the final bridge – an interesting single span with a high arch – and can walk down to the Pier. You’ll be lucky if you encounter another person here, a dog-walker perhaps, or somebody messing about in a boat. It’s an idyllic spot, with views down the narrow channel to the medieval castle of Rincolisky (or Whitehall) across the water.

But in the first half of the nineteenth century, this was a bustling place indeed, and most of that came down to the the vision and energy of one man, James O’Sullivan. His house is still at the head of the inlet, still lived in and lovingly maintained. The quays he built for his various enterprises have stood the test of time and are as straight and sturdy as they were in their heyday.

No longer here are the industrial buildings that once marked this place as an active centre of industry and commerce. On the 1840s OS maps you can see them – there’s a Tuck Mill (used in wool processing) and a Corn Store. An historic account refers to a large building beside O’Sullivan’s house used to store potatoes until they were ready for export. There’s a slate quarry over to the east and a small village to the west. In addition the Archaeological Survey uncovered a metal working site on the rising east bank beside the quay, and a lime kiln at the edge of the water on the west bank. 

That little ‘village’? You can clearly see it as a cluster of buildings on the old maps, although there’s nothing there now you would call a community. But if you look hard, some traces are still visible. The old Catholic church became unfit for purpose by the end of the nineteenth century and was replaced by the splendid Church of the Most Holy Rosary (where you left your car). But it’s still a place of reverence for local people, having been repurposed as a grotto and a place for quiet contemplation and prayer – new Stations of the Cross were unveiled here as recently as 2018. It’s also a Cillín (pronounced killeen), a place where unbaptised children were buried – see this post for more on that.

There were two schools here, a boys’ and a girls’, and the boys’ school can still be seen in ruins along the road (below). By the 1840s they had both been replaced by a new school up by Meen Bridge – it, or its successor, is still there. There was a shop here once, no longer in use except for storage and partly ruined, and several houses only one of which remains. It is estimated that up to 200 people may have worked here. 

Who was James O’Sullivan? for all the information that follows I am indebted to a piece by Timothy Cadogan in the Seanchas Cairbre (a now-defunct publication) for 1993. Born around 1758, he was from the area and appeared to have engaged, by his own admission, in some lucrative smuggling in his younger days, mostly tobacco but “he could give you a bottle of good cognac”. After a crackdown, he turned to more legitimate businesses, perhaps funded by his earlier nefarious dealings. He was by no means alone in the smuggling trade – many a local gentleman had a hand in it too.

Turning to commerce, he operated both a corn mill and a tuck mill (the latter marked on the OS map). Both were overshot mills (see illustration below), in which the wheel was fed by a mill stream which diverted water from the Roaring Water River. The corn was stored in a large building on the quay (more or less where the small corrugated house is now, see image above) and shipped to Cork and Dublin. He had his own ships for this purpose and a storehouse in both cities.

Part of the Overshot Mill at Aberdulais 1786 or 1800 Philip James De Loutherbourg 1740-1812 Accepted by the nation as part of the Turner Bequest 1856 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/D36368

Timothy Cadogan points out that O’Sullivan played an active role in the politics of the time, “as might be expected from the most prominent Catholic in Aughadown and Kilcoe”. He chaired, for example, the great Anti-Tithe meeting in Skibbereen in 1832 – you can read more about that movement, and that meeting, in this post. The image below is of a tithe collector, called a Proctor, extracting his dues.

James O’Sullivan died between 1837-39. He had been married twice, first to Ellen Fitzgerald and after her death in 1826 to Ellen Coleman. No record has been left of any children, and indeed his great enterprises failed to survive his death, although copper mining was subsequently carried out in the vicinity with no great success. The building below was a later shop, across from the old church.

Perhaps though, if you linger a while on the Quay and close your eyes, you can hear the shouts of those loading corn, the sheets slapping against the masts in the wind, the rumble of barrels coming down the road to the waiting ships – maybe even make out, in your mind’s eye, a skiff silently slipping into the inlet loaded with an ‘irregular’ cargo to be delivered under cover of darkness.

Beautiful West Cork in Picture and Song

Missing West Cork? Live here and love it? Always wanted to visit? Colum Cronin sent us this charming song some time ago and this is the perfect time to enjoy his wonderful voice with the images his song evokes. Wherever you are, stay safe and well, and sit back and enjoy.

Roaringwater Bay in 1612

Roaringwater Bay must be so familiar to you, if you are a regular reader of this Journal. It’s a land- and sea-scape of hidden coves, inlets, islands, mountains and castles: a treasure trove for explorers and historians. That’s Black Castle at Castlepoint, Leamcon, above – said to have been built by Connor O’Mahony in the mid fifteenth century. Probably the best place to get an overview of the coastline is to climb to the top of Mount Gabriel (407m) and have a look down. You will see stretched out the archipelago of ‘Carbery’s Hundred Isles’ – seen here in autumnal hue – Cape Clear is the distant remote landfall over on the right:

We always have a sizeable pile of books waiting to be pored over. Currently at the top is this study, The Alliance of Pirates, written by Connie Kelleher and just published (2020) by Cork University Press. We have yet to consume every detail, but we do assure you that it’s full of fascinating historical information – not just about pirates, but about life and culture in the west of Ireland in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Connie is an ‘underwater archaeologist’ and we have followed her over many years, lecturing and presenting original information which she has gathered together on her subject. We couldn’t fail to be hooked on everything she says, illustrates and writes about, as the focus is on our own doorstep. One linchpin of this book is a map which is dated to 1612. This article from Atlas Obscura explains the map and Kelleher’s approach. It’s worth reading: note that you may be required to register on the Atlas Obscura website (it’s free) in order to access it.

The 1612 chart of the “Pirate Harbours” of southwest Munster which became a valuable source of information for Connie Kelleher‘s studies © SUB GÖTTINGEN 4 H BRIT P III, 6 RARA UNIVERSITÄT BIBLIOTHEK GÖTTINGEN LIBRARY ARCHIVES, GERMANY

The purpose of today’s post is to examine the 1612 map in detail and attempt to identify and relate to many of the places which are named and illustrated. Before that, though – let’s consider how such a chart came to be made. Finola has written previously about how West Cork as a whole was being mapped in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries here and here. The thing that sets the 1612 map apart, however, is that it was made in secret, and largely from surveys only carried out at sea. Also, it was specifically intended to enable a Dutch fleet to assail the pirate strongholds which became numerous around the area from Baltimore to Crookhaven, centred on Roaringwater Bay and ideal for forays into the wider Atlantic trade routes.

The sheltered waters of Crook Haven – an important recognised centre for careening and victualling ships operating legitimately on the Atlantic trade routes: ships that would become prime targets for the pirates based in secret ‘nests’ along the same coastline

. . . In 1612, having grown tired of the ongoing pirate harassment, the Dutch government lobbied James I for permission to enter the harbours of southwest Ireland to attack the pirates themselves. James I agreed, but only under the conditions that the pirates would be captured alive and handed over, along with captured goods, to the Kings’ ships to be transported for trial by the Admiralty in England.

To prepare their ships for the attacks, Dutch hydrographer Hessel Gerritszoon was tasked with mapping the Irish coastline with a special focus on the “pirate coast” of southwestern Ireland. A large task in front of him, Gerritszoon engaged English cartographer John Hunt to assist. . .

Atlas Obscura

The leeskarte which the hydrographers produced still exists, and has been housed since the mid 1700s in the library at the University of Göttingen in Germany, which acquired it in the mid 1700s. During her researches, Connie Kelleher travelled to Göttingen to examine and document the map, which is a wonderful resource for enlightening us on some aspects of our local history.

. . . It is a type of ‘treasure map’ informing on the heritage within the landscape at the time, which could potentially help us identify other pirate-related locations, including archaeological sites . . .

Connie Kelleher

In this extract from the 1612 map I have focussed on our immediate area – the environs of Roaringwater Bay itself. Many names will ring bells with us (Clere, Baltemor, Rossbren for example); others won’t. For a simple comparison I have chosen a version of the historical 6″ Ordnance Survey map, dating from the late nineteenth century – it’s probably the clearest and best annotated example of what we would recognise around us today in terms of place-names:

Here I have located and labelled our environs, as shown in 1612. It is remarkable that every castle and many significant features are clearly shown. Now, have a look at my red circle around ‘Horse Island + Castle Island’.

There’s an island missing! Opposite ‘Rossbren’ on the mainland is shown a single island: Rosbren. Next to it is Long Island. In fact, there are two islands here – Horse Island and Castle Island. On the 1612 map there is a castle shown on the Rosbren island, but the castle is actually on Castle Island. Somehow, the surveyors have missed this detail: perhaps the visual information which could be got offshore was confusing. What is interesting, though, is that the dotted lines at the east end of Rosbren on the 1612 map seem to mark the line of a causeway, the vestiges of which do appear today at very low tides and the feature exists in local folk memory. That level of detail on a chart, produced in the limited circumstances of its, time is remarkable! You can read more about Castle Island here.

Our view across Rossbrin Cove with its O’Mahony castle and, beyond Rossbrin Castle, Castle Island. On the left of the picture is Horse Island

I want to show you some further details from the 1612 leeskarte. Firstly, here’s a close-up of Crookhaven (Croock haven on the map). Note the scales in Dutch miles and English leagues, and ‘Limcon’ – in fact Leamcon – which was one of the major pirate centres and also the territory of Sir William Hull, a Vice Admiral of Munster from 1609. His job description involved rooting out the plague of pirates in Roaringwater Bay but in fact entailing a lot of profitable collaboration with them. Also of interest here is the depiction of Goat Island – named ‘Cainor’ and a castle – ‘Penar’ which is likely to be Ballydevlin, at the mouth of Goleen harbour; also ‘Don Hog’, which we believe refers to Castlemehigan. There is no trace remaining of either of these two.

Another detail from the map (above) shows Spain Island, Sherkin and ‘Baltemore’. the depiction of galleons in full sail is a fine ornamental ‘illumination’. Also, note the small anchor symbols. In some places on the whole map, anchorage depths are shown: another remarkable factor highlighting the observation skills of the surveyors. Additionally on this detail, note the name ‘Croock’ – Thomas Crook, an Englishman, took a lease on Baltimore Castle in 1605. The ‘Chapl’ below Castlehaven is probably the now ruined church at Myross, detailed in my post here.

Our photograph of old (possibly ancient) steps carved into the rocks at Dereenatra. Connie Kelleher highlights the physical remains that can be found today in many of the former pirate strongholds around the coast of West Cork. Several are in the form of frequently hidden away steps and tying-up points in remote locations. I have included references to ‘pirate steps’ in a previous post. For the full picture, don’t forget to get hold of Connie’s book: it will make an ideal Christmas present for the archaeologists and pirate enthusiasts among you!

Going With The Wind

We set out to search for a lake in the hills above Ballybane West: it’s known as Constable Lake. There’s a story, of course – which I found in the Duchas Schools Folklore Collection, collected at Corravoley School in 1937. A whole gamut of stories, in fact, packed into two neatly handwritten pages. I don’t think I have ever found quite so much information on local lore in a single entry. Ammunition for a few more posts, perhaps!

In the district of Kilcoe, at the back of the school which I attend, there is a beautiful little river called the “Leimawaddera”. It means the “Dog’s Leap” because it is so narrow that a dog is considered able to leap across it in some places.

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It rises at the foot of Mount Kid in Constable Lake. This lake covers over four acres of land. It is so called because a policeman was drowned in it a very long time ago.

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After leaving the lake the Leimawaddera comes winding down through marshy land till it reaches Ballybawn which means the ‘white townland’, because in summer when the hawthorn is in bloom the place looks like a mass of white.

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The river next runs through ‘Glounakillena’ which means the “glen of the church”, then on through Rossard near to the old ruin underneath which it is said there was a treasure consisting of gold, silver and brass buried by giants long ago.

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The Leimawaddera then wends its way through Lishenacreahig, and then divides Ardura from Corravolley and on it goes till it reaches our school. In summer, at play time, the school children love to run down and paddle in its cool waters.

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It next runs under a tramway bridge and after that under the Crooked Bridge and it enters the sea at Poolgorm Bay which means the “Blue Hole”.

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Lisheenacreahig means the “fort of the fairy kings”.

BETTY CONNELL, ARDURA

In How Well Do You Know West Cork? on the Roaringwater Journal Facebook page this week, Finola posted this photo of Constable Lake:

This view is cleverly framed to minimise the clues, but several readers gave the correct answer almost immediately. Here’s a more revealing picture:

Constable Lake now lies within the boundaries of Ballybane Wind Farm and the 21 tall turbines can all be seen from its shores. It’s one of several farms in the West Cork area, strategically sited on the wild heathland ridges, working away at their mission of harvesting nature’s resources in order to provide us with electricity without burning fossil fuels.

Upper – on the aerial view I have marked each of the 21 turbines. Lower – from the Ballybane site the turbines at Drinagh and Coomatallin are visible

I find the turbines dynamic and exhilarating. I know there are many readers who will disagree with my opinion, and social media abounds with polarised views about them from all perspectives. It’s hard to home in on hard and fast truths on anything these days but I have read extensively – and scientifically – on the subject and it seems to me that these wind-turned appliances have a life expectancy of around 25 years, and they pay for their installation in less than two years. Of course, carbon emissions are involved in the construction and manufacturing processes but this is heavily outweighed by the carbon savings from running these instead of burning fossil fuels to produce our electricity. Dismantling costs are built in to the permissions, and there is no doubt in my mind that in 25 years time – or less – technology will have advanced towards other solutions.

A simple chart from 2017 (via FactChecking.org) which graphical shows how well onshore wind farms perform against other fuel sources. Only nuclear power is marginally better

Wind turbines have a huge visual impact on the landscape, so their siting is important. In the case of Ballybane they have been constructed on heathland and in an area that was formerly commercial forestry. I personally prefer the elegance of the actively dynamic structures to a dark, impenetrable and seemingly sterile sitka spruce plantation. The scale is aweing: in the following photographs here’s me at the base of one of the 64m high towers (upper picture) and, below that, you can see me again – the very tiny figure to the left of the main turbine.

The machinery of industry has always fascinated me. Windmills go back a long way. The first image, below, is from the 14th century Decretals of Gregory manuscript in the British Museum. This is followed by our photograph of Elphin mill, County Roscommon, which dates from 1730 and is said to be the oldest in Ireland. Next, an exploded view of the nineteenth century flour mill at Chillenden, Kent, UK (courtesy of John Reynolds) and then a comparable view of the workings of the Enercon E-70 Wind Energy Converter, which is the unit in use at Ballybane and has a rotor diameter of 71 metres.

The Ballybane Farm will power about 40,000 homes a year on average. That’s modest compared to the newest developments. Currently the world’s largest installation – the offshore Hornsea One Farm, Yorkshire, UK – powers a million homes, while in the Netherlands a huge Haliade-X offshore turbine is being developed with a height of 260 metres and rotor blades of 220 metres in diameter: it’s said that each sweep of the blade will keep a house powered for a day. But that’s enough of the technical stuff. I enjoyed the experience of being close to these giants, and hearing the significant swish of those blades powering us into a safer, carbon reduced future.

Above you can see the trackway leading us up to Constable Lake and the Ballybane Wind Farm. On the horizon is Roaringwater Bay and the distinct profile of Mount Gabriel. There’s an ancientness about this landscape that balances the surreal – somewhat ‘science-fiction’ – character of the turbines. For me, these elements complement each other, and the sheer scale of the contemporary engineering sets us apart from our slight, human selves – so vulnerable in these times.

Castle Island Explored – Part 1

In this early spring photograph, taken from our Eyrie at Nead an Iolair, you can see Rossbrin Castle in the foreground. Beyond it lies Castle Island, uninhabited and slightly mysterious, but with clear traces of former occupation including a medieval tower house, a substantial quay and several abandoned dwellings. As we look over this island every day, we have long held an ambition to visit it, recently fulfilled when we were offered a lift out there on our good friend and neighbour’s fishing boat.

This map shows the scale of the island – just under a mile in length, and occupying 123 acres of mixed land. The main settlements – of Wester’ and Easter’ – are shown, as are the Quay and the Castle. It’s interesting to compare the two Ordnance Survey plans (below): the first 6″ edition was drawn up between 1829 and 1841, and the second one is the 25″ edition, drawn between 1888 and 1913. You can clearly see how the fields have changed, with new boundaries created in the later survey. Presumably this was due to an increase in population resulting in more clearances of rough land.

Both these maps show the Castle – said to date from the 15th century and one of the chain of O’Mahony fortresses that are strategically situated around this most south-westerly part of the Mizen. Of that clan we can find the following written by W O’Halloran in 1916:

Dr Smith says – these Mahowns derive their pedigree from Kean Mc Moyle More, who marrid Sarah, daughter to Brian Boru, by whom he had Mahown, the ancestor of all the sept. It is from this Kean the village of Iniskeen, in Carbery, has its name, and from this sept the Bandon is sometimes called Droghid Mahon. Mahon was the ancestor of the Mahonys, or O’Mahonys . . . The O’Mahonys, whose stronghlad was in the neighbourhood of Bandon (Drohid Mahon), were the first to encroach on the territory of the O’Driscolls. This occurred long before the Anglo-Norman invasion. They possessed themselves of the western portion of Corca Laidhe called Ivahah, which comprised the parishes of Kilmoe, Schull, Durrus, Kilcrohane, Kilmacougue, and Caheragh. They had fourteen strongly built castles . . .

Early Irish History and Antiquities and the History of West Cork, W O’Halloran

The M V Barracuda approaches Castle Island on an atmospherically damp day in late August. The quay itself seems to have been constructed  during the time of the Congested Districts Board from 1892 to 1922. It is a substantial structure and the investment in that time suggests that there was a significant community living and working on the island to justify it. However, a number of sources assert that Castle Island was “. . . home to a community of approximately 15 families who were last resident on the island up to the year 1870 . . .” Our own observations of the abandoned dwellings on the island led us to the conclusion that, although now significantly deteriorating, these habitations must have been in use more recently than this.

Examples of now-ruined houses, barns and boreens on Castle Island. These are not ‘cabins’ or even cottages, but significant homesteads. Some – including the large residence in the upper picture – have the vestigial remnants of timber door and window frames, unlikely to have survived in place in this harsh environment for 150 years.

A community of sheep roams unhampered by fences or boundaries, and Finola absorbed how nature has taken over and populated the landscape in spite of wild winters and lack of shelter: we counted precisely two and a bit trees on the whole island!

The story of this island is somewhat overlooked generally – one of the reasons we were so keen to visit. In our library, however, we are fortunate enough to have some copies of the Journals of the Mizen Archaelogical and Historical Society – now out of print. That Society was active for thirty years between 1979 and 2010, and produced a dozen journals gathering important historical research by mainly local people. Here’s a post we put together when our good friend Lee Snodgrass – a leading light in that organisation – passed away recently.

In that Journal we have found two articles about Castle Island. One – by Anthony Beese – explores the local placenames, and the other – by Liam O’Regan – speaks of The Castle Island Evictions 1889 – 90. This latter clearly shows that the island was inhabited in the late nineteenth century (apparently contrary to current popular thinking). Also, following those evictions, many of the tenants returned later and it seems very possible that some islanders remained in situ into the twentieth century. Both Journal articles have stories which need to be told, and I will attempt to do that in a later Roaringwater Journal post. For now, however, you will have to be content with . . . the story so far . . . which tells of our voyage of discovery to the island on an overcast day in the summer.