Goat Islands and Spirit Music

I can give you a little more information about the Goat Islands now, thanks to Jim O’Keefe, the fount of all wisdom in regards to Schull History. First – the name Lough Buidhe (Pronounced Bwee) – I had forgotten that there is significant folklore associated with this area. Jim tells me that it was believed that gold coins were to be seen on the sea bed as a result of a ship wreck on the Barrell Rocks. But there’s another story too, one that is illustrated in the information sign at Colla Pier.

This one features Fineen O’Driscoll, chief of Baltimore and you can read Robert’s account of it in his post A Watery Tale. As backup – here is my photo of Robert taking it all in, in 2017.

Second, Man of War Sound – Jim tells me this is a mis-translation of ‘Mean Bothar’, main road, or main entrance into Long Island Sound. Here we are in that sound, with Leamcon Castle in view.

I was wondering who owned the island – Jim told me the owner also owns Coney Island. He bought the Goat Islands thus:

He bought the islands from Nelly Downey; I was the auctioneer acting on Nelly’s behalf. Nelly wanted thirty five thousand for the islands. He thought that too much and offered twenty five thousand. Nelly dismissed us at the door of her cottage with the words: “thanks very much bye”…repeating “it’ll need no salt” …. “good day and good luck.”  As we walked away he said to me : what was she saying? I said “It will need no salt” Mike was highly amused and said I must buy it so . We returned to Nelly and sealed the deal .    

The owner, with his daughters, did some work on the stone cottage. In the gap in the south side of the main island there is a nice sandy cove and a large flat rock, ideal for sun bathing.

On the eastern end of the main island there is a ‘cuas’ with stone steps cut into the rock, making landing there possible. Apparently a lone man lived on the island at one point. On the Little island there is a rock on the east side with a mooring point on it to facilitate lading there .

I wonder if the Lone Man was the elusive Cornelius Moynihan? A Cuas is a small cove. Jim also reminded me that Goat Island is also known as Goat Island Great. We didn’t see the Cuas, but did get great views on the sea arches on the north side of Goat Island Great.

In my last post I told you there was more to the story of our morning on the sea. First – we turned around and went back through the Gorge from the other side. This video has a reminder not to take the depth of the water for granted.

Just when I thought Nicky would turn for home – after all, I was now totally satisfied with my marvellous adventure – it became apparent he had other ideas. It was a fine day after all and it would be a sin to waste it, so off we set across Roaringwater Bay in search of dolphins. Nicky explained that Atlantic waters pour into the Bay through Gascanane Sound, between Sherkin and Cape Clear, bringing the fish with the tide, and the dolphins chasing the fish. We did see two dolphins but only a glimpse and they were gone. That’s Cape Clear below – the distant buildings on the headland are the original Fastnet Lighthouse and the Signal Tower.

As we threaded our way back through the Carthys, Nicky had another surprise for me. This is a significant habitat for seals. There are two seal species in the waters around Ireland – Harbour Seals (aka Common Seals) and the larger (and actually more common) Grey Seals. I am, alas, totally ignorant about seals, but I think these were Harbour Seals (corrections welcome). ** Correction received – see Julian’s comment below.

Nicky pointed out that the seals like to keep an eye on whatever gets too close. He pointed out that some scouts has slipped into the water and were now behind us. Another couple were abreast of us, on either side, perhaps making sure we didn’t get too close to the colonies.

As Nicky slowed down a haunting sound came drifting across the waves. It was the seals vocalising. I had never heard this before and was immediately captivated. Wild and resonant, mournful and moving, soul-stirring and plaintive – it was a sound that seemed to reach inside me and conjure up the watery undersea realm of selkies, those mythical half-seal half-human creatures.

And that, in turn, of course, brought to mind Port na bPúcaí (purt na boo key), or Spirit Music. This is how Robert told the story in his post Troll Tuning:

Port na pBúcaí (Music of the Fairies) is a haunted song if ever there was one. It’s said that the islanders were out fishing in their currachs when a storm broke out. It turned into a gale and they feared for their lives as the canvas hulled craft became swamped. Then, the wind suddenly died and they became aware of music playing somewhere around them – an unearthly music. The island fiddler was amongst the crew; when they got safely back to land he found he could remember the tune they had heard. It has passed into the traditional repertoire and has been played ever since.

Púca (pronounced pooka. Plural Púcaí, pronounced pookee), can be translated in a number of ways, but a Púca is generally considered to be a mischievous spirit. And here is Robert’s own rendition of Port na bPúcaí on his concertina.

We were only gone a morning. It felt like an Oisín-like lifetime.

Goat Islands: Two, For Now

This week I was fortunate to be taken on a trip to the Goat Islands – Goat Island and Goat Island Little – by my friend Nicky – thank you, Nicky! We had a fine forecast for the morning and seized our chance.  

I can see the Goat Islands from my house and have been wanting to view them up close for as long as I’ve lived here. That’s because the two islands are separated by a cleft and twice a year the sun sets directly in the gorge created by that cleft. I’ve never managed to capture that moment (darn clouds) but I have come close. And somehow that impossibly romantic image, like a corridor to some magical realm, has sunk into my consciousness and manifested as a longing to go through that gorge in person. The experience was just as wonderful as I thought it would be.

There isn’t much history to the Goat Islands. They are unoccupied now except for a herd of feral goats, but there is a small hut on Goat Island, recently re-roofed (does anyone know who has done this and why?).

When the first Ordnance Survey was done in the 1840s there was a cluster of buildings – probably the hut and a couple of outbuildings. 

The name in Irish is Oileán Clutharach, which means Sheltered Island. Hmmmm – anything less sheltered is hard to imagine. On some maps and charts, the gap between Goat and Long Island is called Goat Sound, while the gap between Goat Island and the small rocky islet to the west is called Man-of-War Sound. That’s the 1849 Admiralty Chart below. I happen to have a copy, but you can find it here.

That islet is called Illaunricmonia, which translates, improbably, as Island of the King’s Copse, although it is called Turf Island on the Admiralty Chart. The sea between Goat Island and the mainland is labelled, on one of the early OS maps, Lough Buidhe, meaning Yellow Sea. All in all, a curious and seemingly inapt set of names that hint at more history that appears at first glance.

Griffith’s Valuation tells us both islands were owned by William Hull and Leased to Cornelius Moynihan. In the mid-nineteenth century, Goat Island Little was worth 14s and Goat Island 6£ 10s, while Moynihan’s hut was worth 6s. There are traces of lazy beds, visible even on the aerial photos – it’s hard to imagine how difficult it must have been to live here. Neither island has an obvious landing place but I understand it is possible to land on Goat Island if you know what you’re doing.

Not much history – but lots of geography! This was once one island, and probably joined to Long Island, which itself is one of a string of continuous islands off the coast. The cleft which divides it into two Islands probably started off as an indentation – and there are more indentations and developing clefts and fissures. Some of these now form sea-arches and at least one will eventually collapse, creating two island out of Goat Island. 

We could see right through the crack at the join point. 

The only structure on Little is a masonry beacon. Dan McCarthy in an entertaining piece for the Examiner, give the following account of the beacon.

Goat Island Little . . . was deemed suitable in the 1850s for the construction of a beacon to aid navigation for boats entering Schull Harbour via Long Island bay. A second beacon was constructed at Copper Point at the west end of Long Island. How the workers and boatmen managed to land themselves, as well as the stone, cement, and other materials needed for construction can only be marvelled at. In the end, the structure reached almost 5m in height and weighed 250 tonnes when it was completed in 1864. It was repaired in 1961 when 40 tons of gravel were brought from Schull to reinforce the foundations. However, The Skibbereen Eagle newspaper . . . recorded its distaste at the new construction. “These celebrated structures, finished at last… but to what order or style of architecture they belong we have been unable to discover. We have however been informed that, like their neighbour at Crookhaven, they are neither useful nor ornamental, as in the day time they are not required, while at night they can not be seen.”  The newspaper went on to recommend that, as in Normandy, the head of the gurnet fish, when properly dried, be filled with tow (wick) from which a brilliant light emanates when lit. Thus ‘an inexpensive and brilliant light would be produced, and the effect, no doubt, would be exceedingly useful and picturesque during the ensuing dark winter nights’.

While we don’t endorse the gurnet fish alternative, we do have to admit that this is not the prettiest beacon, being remarkably phallic is its appearance.

And what about the goats? Yes, they are there, on the larger island, with nothing to disturb them. The population, I imagine, is kept in check naturally by the availability of food.

While a managed herd can be used to keep down invasive species (as in the Burren), in general a herd like this will just eat everything in sight and so John Akeroyd and the team who wrote The Wild Plants of Sherkin, Cape Clear and Adjacent Islands of West Cork, say that there are few plants to record and that the islands are of more interest for their birds than their plants.

Nicky is familiar with these waters so I knew I was in good hands. We set out shortly after nine, leaving from Rossbrin Cove, looking resplendent in the morning sunshine.

We passed Castle Island, the entrance to Schull harbour, and then Long Island.

Our first glimpse of the islands was through the rocks at the end of Long Island. 

As we approached, the cleft loomed ahead and soon we were in it!

I switched to my iPhone, which does a better job of videos like this than my camera, so come with us now as we venture through the gorge, trying to avoid the very jagged rock right in the middle of the passage. You can view in YouTube by clicking on Shorts at the bottom of the video.

I’ve done it – fulfilled the ambition of many years and gone thought the corridor to the magical realm! There’s more to the story – we didn’t just turn around and go home, but I will leave that to the next post.

Mizen Magic Miscellany: The Far End Part 3

Sticking with the west end of the Mizen, we will introduce you today to some prehistoric rock art (two very different cupmarked stones), a remote and gorgeous stone pier, an historic mine site with links to the Famine, and finally a headland with sea-arches and an ancient promontory fort.

Let’s start with Toor – that secluded and beautiful spot out on the wild northern edge of the Mizen. It’s hard to believe that this was a well-used pier in its day. It has held up well, despite the bashing it gets from the ocean. And there are sea-caves!

Between us we took so many photos at Toor that we ended up making a slideshow, to the Music of Liam O’Flynn’s Joyce’s Tune from The Given Note. This link will take you there.

The townland of Balteen has not one but two cupmarked stones, the first built into a ditch by the side of the road. My post was was titled Rock Art and Red Socks, but you’ll have to click on the link to see why. The second rock was on private property but we were welcomed to come in and view it and take photos. I included some videos of both rocks in the post.

The mine, known as Dhurode Mine, was established by the Rev Robert Traill just before the Famine. A complex character, Traill was famously sectarian before that awful event, but redeemed himself with his energetic charity during the Great Hunger, eventually succumbing to famine fever.

My post was Two Mines Are Better Than One (Mizen Magic 16). There are surprisingly many clues left of the mining activities. There were shafts, now with concrete caps, as well as open cast workings. Now it is silent, except for the call of the sea birds, but still carries the atmosphere of former days.

Finally, we have Lackavaun. Sea arches, a promontory fort, still-visible lazy beds, and a clear view to Bird Island. This was a tricky island to get on to, there was no landing place and it could only be attempted in calm weather. The first trip was to collect the eggs of the cóbach (the Black-backed Gull). Once ashore, the men attached ropes to iron bars which had been driven into the rock faces, and climbed down the cliffs to gather the eggs. 

Our guide was the marvellous book North Side of the Mizen.

Mizen Magic Miscellany: The Far End Part 2

Moving west at the Far End of the Mizen we come to two very special, and completely different, places. Barley Cove is one of Ireland’s most popular beaches, and rightly so – but there is much more to it than meets the eye. Three Castle Head, is, in my opinion , the most beautiful historic site in Ireland. OK, a bold statement – but wait til you see.

The area around Barley Cove encompasses a European Special Area of Conservation (SAC). In my post, Barley Cove: A Special Area of Conservation, I explained that SACs are areas designated as particularly interesting or sensitive on account of their flora or fauna. There’s a complex assessment process carried out that looks at the species present in the area, how important or endangered they are, or how representative of a particular habitat. It’s all done by the National Parks and Wildlife Service and the report on the Barley Cove area is online.

It’s also one of my favourite places to find wildflowers and that post included a gentle little slideshow. Because I went on October one of the flowers I saw was the little orchid, Autumn Lady’s Tresses. Although it is found here and there around the coast it is an unassuming little thing and quite hard to spot, so I was delighted to find it.

But I have been more recently, in July last year, and made a new slideshow, which I called Lying in the Dunes. I am a bit better at it now, and can sync the music to the images.

Barley Cove is also home to a large colony of rabbits. In my post The Bunnies of Barley Cove, I wrote: When you think that an adult female (a doe) can have up to seven litters a year, each one yielding up to ten kittens, the proliferation rate is explosive. They are kept somewhat in check in the wild by natural predators and a high mortality rate. Left totally undisturbed, rabbit populations probably undergo the same cyclical variations that other mammals do, with numbers increasing for about ten years and then declining due to over-population, before building up again.

Observing the bunnies and getting close to them called for patience and slow movements: I had to crawl through long grass and try not to spook them. Once they and I were at eye level, it felt like a real communication – being regarded by those deep pools of age-old knowledge, gentle and wise, was lovely. At the same time, the ears were on high alert, and I knew that one false move and he was gone.

Moving further west again, we come to Dunlough, or Three Castle Head. This was one of my Castles of Ivaha series, and surely our most unusual castle in the most spectacular setting. To come over the hill and see it for the first time is an experience none of us will forget.

It’s a complex site and I tried to unravel the various phases of building that you can see, as well as the construction methods and functions of the curtain wall with its three towers. But in the end I had to say But all of that is dry as dust – who can worry about a dating timeframe when what presents itself to your view is so beautiful, so perfectly situated and so hopelessly romantic?

Podcast!

Roaringwater Journal gets in on the podcast trend!

This podcast was really fun to do – and provides a good overview of the Saints and Soupers blog series.

Shannon Forde, historian and manager of the Old Head Signal Station and Lusitania Museum, has made a wonderful series of podcasts about Cork history – the Cork Chronicles. https://shows.acast.com/chroniclesofcork. Have a browse – there’ a great lineup of eclectic topics and more are planned.

Mizen Magic Miscellany: The Far End Part 1

The Mizen is slightly over 35 kms long, and the last five km or so contain a wealth of sites and places that beg to be explored and experienced. These include our signature tourist attraction, Mizen Head Signal Station, our spectacular white sand beach, Barley Cove, and picturesque Crookhaven, but also some lesser known spots that are equally worthy of inclusion in our Mizen Magic list.

Despite the hype about Mizen Head, the actual southernmost tip of Ireland is Brow Head. In our post about it we said: Brow Head doesn’t have the same profile as Mizen Head: many people have never heard of it. But it’s magnificent, steeped in history, wonderfully scenic and best of all, totally walkable.

Brow head boasts not only a Marconi Telegraph Station, but also a Napoleonic-era Signal Tower. For a good overview read Mizen Magic 3: Brow Head, but we know you will want to know a lot more about Marconi, the telegraph pioneer, so take a look at In Search of Ghosts for more abut him and his operations on Brow Head. And for two takes on Marconi’s station, there is Peter Clarke’s drawing above and Brian Lalor’s below.

But there’s also that signal tower, and what was that? Robert wrote a series of 11 posts about the signal towers of West Cork, built between 1804 and 1806, to use all the latest signalling technology in case of the French invasion that never came. He finally got around to dealing with Brow Head in A Signal Success in Irish Engineering – Part 8: Brow Head.

Brow Head looks back to Barley Cove (above) and Crookhaven (below) – some of the most spectacular views on the Mizen are seen descending from the head.

We took a dander around the Harbour and wrote about it in Mizen Magic 22: Crookhaven Harbour. Do the same, and don’t forget to stop at O’Sullivan’s for their excellent chowder and famous crab sandwich.

And while you’re sitting outside, savouring your chowder, look across at some Industrial Archaeology in Crookhaven. These imposing remains are all that’s left of a once-thriving stone quarry supplying road material until the late 1930s.

Of course there is much more to the Far End of the Mizen – I’ll continue this in the next post.