West Cork Blog

Ballinacarriga Castle Part 2

The romantic situation of Ballinacarriga Castle, and its relative intactness, meant that it was a favourite of antiquarians and travellers. There was a great appetite in the nineteenth century for images and accounts of all things to do with Irish antiquities – we were rediscovering our past and revelling in the realisation that we had a proud and significant heritage. Two of those illustrators, William Frazer and James Stark Fleming, visited and drew Ballinacarriga for their series on castles and other antiquities. Fleming, a Scottish solicitor and a constant visitor to Ireland was an accomplished watercolour artists and architectural historian. In all, he produced 10 volumes of drawings of Irish castles*. His sketches ( like the one below) were made on the spot.

William Frazer was also a prolific illustrator but his sketches were sometimes based on other drawings (such as by du Noyer) or on photographs. His interior scene is a lovely wash. Both the lead images are by Frazer, and the Fleming and Frazer drawings are included here courtesy of the National Library of Ireland

And yes, the interior – let’s go back inside the castle (see Part 1 for the exterior). Before we leave the level under the vault, let’s take a look at the interior render, still in place on the walls. It’s a reminder that those walls would have been lime-rendered in white, which would really have helped with visibility inside. 

A mural chamber (room within the walls) at the top of the stairway also has a vault and here we can see exactly how the vault was constructed.

A scaffolding of wicker was erected first and a layer of mortar laid on top of that. Ceiling stones were laid on the scaffold and mortared into place and then the stone work was built up to provide the floor of the next story.

When the scaffold was dismantled the impression of the wicker was left on the mortar – and in this case it looks like some of the wicker stayed behind as well.

Another mural chamber contained the castle’s indoor plumbing. In the last post we saw the exit of the garderobe chute. Here is the garderobe itself – it would have had a wooden seat for comfort. 

Another way of getting rid of rubbish was to have a slop chute and there is one here, close to what may have been an interior cooking area.

But the real glory of the castle is the top floor. The function of this chamber, sometimes called a solar, was for the chief and his family to entertain visitors and to conduct business.

Hospitality was an important obligation of all the great Irish houses and a drawing on the information board at Ballinacarriga shows how this room may have been used for feasting and discussions. 

And here we meet more carvings – yes, there are two more window embrasures with carvings on this level. On a window on the north side there is an inscription that gives the date of 1585, and the initials R.M. C.C.  for Randal Muirhily (Hurley) and his wife Catherine O Cullane (we met Catherine last week). So this is likely when all the carvings were done.

This room may also have been used as a private chapel. The clue is in the nature of the remaining carvings.  The window on the South side has a crucifixion on the east end, but the whole surround is carved with stylised foliage and scroll patterns. While it is difficult to photograph this, the information board has a great illustrations (even if backwards from how it is viewed).

The crucifixion and other religious iconography (more of that in a minute)  is a remarkable and unique element in this castle. After the Reformation got underway, and starting around the 1530s iconoclasts destroyed anything in the way of religious representational art they could get their hands on. It’s the reason we have no Medieval stained glass left in Ireland. That’s right – not a single window, nothing but a few scraps of glass that have turned up in excavations. 

Crucifixion images were particularly anathema to the Protestant reformers. What survived those rampages fell victim to the Cromwellian Puritans from the 1640s on, like the destruction of St Canice’s Cathedral above – once renowned for its great East Window. 

The location of the Crucifixion carving is probably the key to its survival — tucked inside a West Cork tower house, it was simply inaccessible to reforming zeal. And the date of 1585 is actually rather bold, coming right in the thick of the Elizabethan push. It could even be read as a deliberate act of Catholic defiance by the Hurleys, which adds another layer of significance.

The crucifixion scene actually looks a little archaic – more like a Romanesque carving than a 16th century one. That may have been because local craftsmen were working in a persistent native tradition rather than following Continental Renaissance trends. Jesus on the cross is flanked by Mary and John. The carving is naive, the hands are disproportionately large and the feet are pointing sideways. There is a checkerboard pattern as background. I have provided a black and white image as well as the colour photo, in case that helps.

Equally intriguing is the Arma Christi, or Instrument of the Passion panel on the opposite (north) wall. This is a motif that is also familiar from much later 18th century headstones. It was a particular favourite of the Franciscans, and the Hurleys may well have had good relationships with the friaries in Bantry or Timoleague, and a Franciscan confessor (pure speculation on my part). 

While I have seen assertions that the top panel features images of Mary and St Paul, I have pored over them and see only the familiar elements of the Instruments of the Passion. From left to right, on the bottom panel (below) I see the pillar and ropes used to bind Christ, the ladder, the crown of thorns, the hammer (with a hammer end and a pincer end), and a heart pierced by crossed swords.

On the upper panel (below) I see the cock and the pot, the spear, a nail behind the spear, the crucified Christ, and the flail. The thing that looks like a boot to the left of Christ has me stumped, as do hints of other elements. It looks like a checkerboard background is used, which would indicate it is of the same exact vintage and by the same hands as the crucifixion on the opposite window.

Please – dear readers, tell me what you see – I love to be educated and corrected in these matters. Apparently, this room was used as a chapel by local people. The author of the piece in the Dublin Penny Journal says Up to 1815, (when the chapel of Ballinacarrig was built,) divine service was performed for a series of years in the hall of the castle. There is a strong local tradition that that was, indeed, the case. By the way, the whole piece in the 1834 Dublin Penny Journal is highly improbable and equally entertaining. You can read it freely here.  

Ballinacarriga Castle is in many ways a typical West Cork 15th/16th Century tower house. What make it unique and a national treasure are the carvings, and the hints they give of a secret life away from the prying eyes of the conquerer.

* Available here: https://catalogue.nli.ie/Collection/vtls000245965

Ballinacarriga Castle Part 1

It’s been a long time since I wrote about a castle – you might like to refresh your memory about castles in West Cork, with a quick read of some of the posts on this page. They contain all kinds of details about castle architecture and lay-out, as well as the history of many of our West Cork castles.

The castle I am writing about today, Ballinacarriga, is one of the best preserved and has many unusual details. It’s located just south of the Bandon River, between Dunmanway and Enniskean. The black and white illustration at the top of the post is from The Dublin Penny Journal of 1834. The sepia photo is from James Healy’s notebook, upon which he based his book Castles of Cork. (Reproduced by kind permission of Cork County Council Library and Arts Service.) Unfortunately, the castle is normally only really viewable from the outside, as it is quite hazardous to navigate internally. I have been very lucky indeed to have been able to visit it, including the interior, a couple of times, most recently in the company of eminent archaeologist and medievalist, Con Manning. Con was able to point out to me several features that I would not have understood on my own. 

This is a ‘ground entry’ castle – they were built later than the ‘raised entry’ castles of the O’Mahonys and are consequently more designed for comfort (fireplaces!) and more likely to be inland rather than coastal. This one was a castle of the Hurley (Ó Muirthile) clan, although it may also have been built (or acquired, or relinquished) by the McCarthys. The Hurleys managed to hang on to it until the mid-1600s when it was seized by forfeiture and handed over to the Crofts. The castle shows up in Jobson’s Map of Munster, completed around 1584, noted as Benecarick Castle – can you see it? It’s right where it should be, but don’t forget that this map has south on the left and north on the right.

One authority says that the tower was probably built in the late 1400s and the upper floors modified in the later 1500s but that is not obvious from an examination of the architecture. Let’s look at the outside first for some of the unusual features of this castle – beginning with the Sheela-na-gig (for more on Sheelas see our post Recording the Sheelas).

The Sheela can be seen in the image of the front of the castle above, between the second and third windows (from the bottom) on the right hand side. Here’s a 3D rendering by the marvellous Digital Heritage Age 3D Sheela project. It’s great to have this, as the Sheela on the castle is high up and hard to see in any detail. Its placement does seem to suggest that it was there to ward off the evil eye, one of the many theories about the function of Sheela-na-gigs.

The door, as mentioned above, is at ground level – this necessitated different kinds of defences than a raised entry which could only be accessed via a stairway that could be detached and thrown away from the castle. Ballinacarriga had an iron gate that could be pulled across the door from inside, via a hole in the stone surround. 

This feature was known as a yett. The chain that pulled it closed was managed by a sentry in a small sentry room to the left of the doorway. There is no sign of a murder hole above the entry lobby, as there is, for example, at Kilcrea. 

Outside, we can see other defensive feature – bartizans, which are small projecting turrets at the corners, and a space that probably held a machicolation (like a bartizan but on a straight stretch of wall) over the door. 

We also see the base batter and a garderobe chute (above) – chute exits are normally near the ground but this one emptied its content at first floor level, leading no doubt to a foul-smelling area that had to be regularly cleaned by an unfortunate individual. 

Inside the main space is vaulted and there are at least two floors under it and a possible third or mezzanine floor. The second floor must have been a residential space as it contains an impressive fireplace.

In a window surround at this same level (the arched one to the right of the fireplace) we can see the first of several carvings. It’s a figure of a woman with five rosettes, interpreted as Catherine O Cullane and her children. It’s an extraordinary detailed carving and I couldn’t help searching the internet to see if I could find analogous illustrations – and I did!

Obviously Catherine enjoyed the height of contemporary fashion. The black and white illustration shows her French hood and apron, while the Holbein portrait is a good representation of her puffy sleeves and open collar.

There are more carvings and more features to come – part 2 next week!

First: French woman from Habitus Nostrae Aetatis by Enea Vico, c. 1556. Available here: https://www.meisterdrucke.ie/fine-art-prints/Enea-Vico/1328771/Galla-Woman-%28title-on-object:-Galla-mul%28ier%29%29-A-Married-Woman-from-France,-Dressed-in-the-Fashion-of-ca.-1550-%28series-title:-Diversarum-gentium-nostrae-aetatis-habitus%29.html
Second: Holbein, Hans 1535. Portrait of a lady, probably of the Cromwell Family formerly known as Catherine Howard. Public Domain

Planning a Hedgerow

A very quick post tonight – the ‘settling in’ is taking a little longer that I planned. I know everyone understands how that is, when you move house. Today I discovered that my driveway is lined with crocuses (OK, croci for the purists) – enough to lift your heart.

One of the things I need to do is plan a hedgerow for the back of the house. Of course, I want it to be instant and consisting of all native Irish species. Like the Guelder Rose, above and below. Turns out, those two things are not compatible, so my plan is to plant a fast growing hedge, preferably evergreen and intersperse it with native Irish trees, which are mostly deciduous.

Fortunately, there’s a lot of helpful information available to anyone wanting to do this, on the Hedgerows Ireland website, and I will be following their advice as much as I can. I have a head start in that I have several Hazel trees – my feature photo today is the tiny scarlet female flowers that appear above the catkins on Hazel trees in the spring.

One of the trees I will be ordering is the spectacular Spindle – above is the fruit and below the autumn leaves. I only know of one wild tree near here and I visit it every year.

I am also planning a wildflower patch, like in my last place – take a look at these posts:

Lying In The Grass*

Weeds: A Matter of Perspective

One Acre

One Acre – One Year On

One Acre – Three Years On

One Acre – Four Years On

Every year in West Cork I start my wildflower posts when the Celandine comes out – well, it’s out in my garden already!

I’ll document my hedgerow as I progress.

St Brigid And Her Wells

It has become my habit over many years now to mark St Brigid’s Day with a post. This link will bring you to the last five. If you have read them, you will know already that the camp I am in is the one that sees her as an historical figure – an actual woman, powerful and pious, that ruled benevolently over Kildare in the 5th/6th centuries. I used, to the extent that I could, the original documents that lead us through her life – an account by Cogitosus written in the year 650, and the Vita Prima, written 100 years later. Both are likely to have been based on an earlier Life by St Ultan. Since both accounts are mostly a list of miraculous happenings, I do not hold them out as factual – what is convincing is that they were written so soon after her death and that they are so specific about the establishment of her foundation in Kildare.

Over the centuries much folklore and mythology has accrued to St Brigid’s story, as it does inevitably to all of these Irish Early Medieval icons. Most of it has enriched her legendary image. However, I do find it puzzling that so many people are now convinced that she never existed and is simply a Christianised version of a mythical ‘Celtic’ goddess. Funny, we don’t do that to our other founding saints, Patrick and Columcille.

I usually go for stained glass images but this year it will be about her holy wells. This is partly in homage to Holy Wells of Cork and Kerry – or in other words to my good friend Amanda Clarke, with whom Robert and I, and now I, have had so many adventures, out Good Well Hunting. 

I was privileged to be on the first ever outing – to St Brigid’s well in Lough Hyne on St Brigid’s Day in 2016 – exactly ten years ago (above). Amanda is marking this auspicious anniversary with a special post summarising those ten years and what she has learned along the way. Do pop over and have a read – since her book is now out of print, it may be the closest you get to a summary of her wisdom. Lough Hyne is a small, obscure well, hard to get to but as full of intriguing detail and structures and folklore as any of the more frequented wells. On the other end of the spectrum are Brigid’s large and most well-known wells. We have been to several of both types. I’ll start with three of the most-visited.

Nothing can quite prepare you for the impact of Brigid’s Well in Liscannor, Co Clare. At first it seems like a well-tended garden-like area with the obligatory statue, but then you see the entrance to what looks like a cave. 

And that’s kinda what it is – a womb-like space filled with statues, icons, candles, supplications, photographs. It is a powerful testament to what a living tradition this is – to visit a place associated with her, to pay your devotion and ask for her intercession. 

Kildare, of course, is the city and county most associated with Brigid and St Brigid’s well outside Kildare town is a beautiful and contemplative place. It is laid out in such a way to lead you through the pattern of prayers, and it encourages you to slow down and feel the atmosphere.

Another such is the Brigid’s well near Lough Owel near Mullingar. This one features a statue showing her in the act of casting her brat, or shawl, across the land to claim it for her monastery.

There’s a space for a priest to say Mass, the Stations of the Cross, and the well itself, topped by a green mound and a St Brigid’s Cross (my feature photograph for today)

But it’s the hidden wells, down almost-forgotten paths, that resonate with me most. Amanda, with her exhaustive research, has led us to several. This one is near Carrigillihy in West Cork. Only the locals really know about it – there is no signpost and you have to look out for a tiny path off the road.

My lead photograph is the well itself. From it, there is a view to Rabbit Island, where the well was originally located. Realising that it was now too inaccessible, the well re-located itself (they do that) to the mainland.

Sometimes it takes real effort to get to a well – thus it was with Stonehall, in Co Limerick. The map was vague, and directions even vaguer but there was nothing vague about the mud. 

Once you finally get there – across this field and up this rutted path – and catch a glimpse of something promising (Amanda swears by small gates), the sense of achievement is huge. 

You might be the only people who have been year in years, but here it still is.

One of my favourites is the one at Britway, not too far from Rathcormack in Co Cork. We discovered this one on our own, in the course of an expedition, and I loved the vernacular nature of it but especially the statue. Brigid had been furnished with a coat-hanger crozier, and her eyes had been coloured black, giving her a threatening air. I believe she may have been refurbished more recently, so perhaps is not quite so scary now. 

I leave you with some images of Amanda in her happy place. 

Congratulations, my friend, on ten amazing years of exploration and discovery and on becoming the Go To Authority on the Holy Wells of the south west of Ireland. 

. . . And Hello Schull!

First of all, a HUGE thank you to all the readers who sent me such kind messages of support on my last blog. I am normally very good about responding to comments, but moving house took its toll on my time and energy and I just never got to it. But I want you all to know that I read and appreciated SO MUCH every single message and I felt totally supported by this Roaringwater Journal community we have built together. 

So here I am now, happily settled in Schull, looking back on what we have written about this wonderful village over the years. And what we have eaten as well.

Robert did a series called West Cork Towns and Villages and he wrote about Schull in 2021. (Don’t be confused, by the way, by the fact that the author is given as “Finola” on the top of many of these posts: now that I am the sole administrator of the website, WordPress has automatically assigned all authorship to me and I can’t seem to change it back.) It was during Calves Week in August and Schull was en fete and looking sunny and busy and gorgeous – as it is all summer anyway.

One of the topics Robert tackled was the name – Schull, or Skull as it is invariably given on old maps. In two posts he traced the possibility that somewhere around here was an ancient ecclesiastical settlement named for Mary. In the first one, he referred to the The National Monuments record which states: According to local information, this is the site of Scoil Mhuire or Sancta Maria de Scala, a medieval church and school that gave its name to this townland and to Skull village . . .

In the second, Schull – Delving into History, he charts the various evidence, or mythology, that gave rise to the ‘local information.’ As a corrective, he urged the reader to also look at John D’Altons’s sceptical take on the placename. I also urge you to do so: it’s here.

Robert re-visited St Mary’s church in 2022 to write about the ship graffiti in the porch. Subsequently our friend Con Manning wrote an erudite piece for the 2025 Skibbereen Historical Journal on the same graffiti: The ruined church at Schull, Co. Cork, and its ship graffiti

Before we leave St Mary’s I will mention it is the final resting place of many anonymous souls who died during the famine, as well as the Rev Robert Traill, about whom I wrote in my series Saints and Soupers. Traill’s story in Schull started out as that of a typical evangelical clergyman, despising the Catholics and railing against Popery and its thousand forms of wickedness, but ended heroically as he laboured night and day to feed the hungry all around him, dying himself of famine fever. Read more about Traill here and here.

And of course, this is Robert’s final resting place also, with his beautiful hare headstone. I love it that, at the entrance to the Graveyard, is a Fastnet Trails informational board written by me and designed by Robert, about the history of this important place. The watercolour is by Peter Clarke.

Like all the West Cork villages, Schull is also a haven for wildflowers, although you might think they are only weeds. We had a very enjoyable Guerrilla Botany session in early June in 2020 wandering around and chalking in the names of all the plants we found. Time to do that again this spring, I think – who’s up for joining me?

The train used to come to Schull – the Schull and Skibbereen Light Railway came all the way down the Pier and Robert wrote about this rail line in a series of posts. The Schull-related one is here – a set of reminiscences about the stops, the engines, the buildings and the people who made it all run. My personal favourite was Gerry McCarthy who was known as ‘Vanderbilt’ from the careful way he had with money. 

One thing Schull people love to do is walk and there are several lovely walks that start or end right in the village. You can walk from Schull to Castlepoint, or from Rossbrin to Schull. You can do the Butter Road – a green road for much of the way. If you have limited time, you can do the foreshore walk from the Pier out to the graveyard and back (below). Or just keep going out to Colla Pier.

Best of all – you can do Sailor’s Hill, and hope to Catch Connie Griffin so he can explain his stonehenge to you, or lean over the wall and admire Betty’s garden.

Regular service will return soon – I’m already planning my annual Brigid post.

Our Lúnachán.

Farewell Nead an Iolair, and Finbarr and Ferdia and. . .

. . . and that view!

Yes, after 13 years of owning this special house, I have sold it to a lovely couple who I know will treasure it like we did. I am moving into Schull (all of 8km away) on Thursday, and I am looking forward to being able to walk everywhere, especially to Amar’s cafe.

Nead an Iolair – it means Eagle’s Nest and was Robert’s choice of a name for the house – has been the subject of many of our posts and as a final honouring of the house and the acre it sits on, here is a round-up of some of the posts we have written about it all, over the years.

Although we have kept no pets, we are far from deprived of the company of animals. Finbarr the Pheasant, for example – our heads tell us it cannot be the same bird all these years, but our hearts just think that we have looked after him so well that he has adopted us. He has had up to four wives – there are currently two and it has kept him busy, herding and courting them and fending off other males. All played out in front of our living room window.

And let’s not forget our other Finbarr, Our Lockdown Mascot, the bug hotel designed and installed for us by Kloë and Adam, of Two Green Shoots. He’s still there – say hello if you pass.

And we still miss Ferdia – the friendly fox who would eat out of our hands (anything except broccoli) and who loved to sit on the terrace while Robert played his melodeon. Occasionally another fox trots by but none have taken Ferdia’s place as a constant visitor.

If I come home in the evening, rabbits are leaping into the hedges as I drive in. When I throw open the curtains in the morning, they are sitting outside my window.

Robert was a hare fanatic, and we did have a brief dalliance with a young hare we called Berehert (below), but they have become quite rare now in our neighbourhood.

The choughs are wheeling overhead all day, with their distinctive call and their aerial acrobatics.

Small birds come to the feeder, and there is a robin that I am this close to coaxing onto my hand.

And although we don’t see them, the moths are everywhere – from hardly visible against a stone wall to spectacularly coloured.

It has been a joy to discover the beauty and variety of these silent creatures of the night.

Every now and then a bird or animal will appear for a brief time to grace us with its presence – like Spiro the Sparrowhawk, who perched outside our bedroom window and cased the joint before swooping off low over the back wall.

Or like this bundle of ferocity – The Wild One – a stoat who terrorised the pheasants, despite being a lot smaller than they are.

One acre – that’s what we have here. I documented the wildflowers that have popped up all over the acre, both in my wildflower patch and just on the land on general.

The chamomile is spreading and every now and then, something really unusual shows up  – like this tiny sharp-leaved fluellen that has managed a toe-hold in my driveway and came from God knows where (below). My slideshow, Lying in the Grass, will give you an idea of the variety of plants I have found here.

The storms that sweep through in the winter can do some damage. When we moved in, we had the gorse jungle in our front haggard dug out.  All that did was expose our pine trees to the winds and each of them toppled in turn. 

The lovely wall surrounding our property also gave way over time, leading us to get Diarmuid to come and Build a Stone Wall. Watching him, we discovered that this was a craft and a skill that hasn’t changed in hundreds of years. 

I will miss our amazing view across Roaringwater Bay. We can see several medieval castles, the Baltimore Beacon, the Fastnet Rock, most of the islands. We hear The Roaring on a calm day after a storm. We see the sun going down further and further south each day as the year turns, sometimes sinking into the sea and sometimes dropping behind an island or a hill.

And even though Robert is gone almost two years now, I still find myself saying we, because his presence is so palpable in this place that he loved, and all my experiences here were shared with him. I know his benign spirit is coming with me to Schull: he would have loved the new house and totally approved of my move.

And yes, don’t worry, his Finola Window is coming with me