I came across in 1986. Several of these new sites have been revealed by turf-cuttings; and to see the pair of milk-white quartz boulders newly exposed in the black trench of a turf bank on a hilltop in Crocknaraw, north of Clifden, and to realize that at least half-a-dozen other standing-stones and several other megaliths are or were visible from that point, is to be given a glimpse of a cultural landscape the meaning of which has been lost beneath the bogs.
In many parts of Ireland the most typical monuments of the pagan Iron Age and Early Christian periods, the so-called ‘ ringforts ’, are very numerous; but in Connemara they are strangely rare. The three dry-stone cashels and two earth-banked raths of north Connemara, the two earthen promontory forts on peninsulas of the west coast and the fragmentary stone ones in Inishbofin, probably represent Iron-Age militarism. The twenty or more crannógs or lake-dwellings that have been identified with some certainty in the western and southern lowlands of Connemara may be the local equivalent of small ringforts, the circular stockyards around the isolated huts of Iron Age or Early Christian farmers. Perhaps the growth of bog, overwhelming the hillside pastures, forced the evolution of a lake-culture, or of unenclosed shoreline settlements now marked only by great shell-middens. Certainly Connemara was far from deserted at this period, which pollen-records from various sites show to have been a time of increase in cereal crops and their weeds.
However, it seems that the pattern of a populated coastal fringe and an empty interior, which largely obtains today, was established by the early Middle Ages. Connemara’s radiating peninsulas and its islets broadcast in the ocean must have answered to the misanthropy of the sixth century, when every hermit wanted a desert to himself. Some of the many religious sites on the rim of Connemara are named from figures who seem at home in pure legend, like the fisherman’s saint, Macdara, also known as Síothnach, a name that perhaps associates him with squalls of wind, as do several folktales told of his powers. Other foundationsare attributed to personages who appear convincingly in history, such as St Colman, who retired to Inishbofin after losing the argument between the Irish and the Roman Church over the true date of Easter at the Synod of Whitby in AD 665 (thus initiating the sequence of Celtic causes in retreat to Connemara, which continues to the present day, and of which he should be the patron saint).
The roofless late mediaeval chapel and ancient graveyard, still in use, that mark the location of St Colman’s monastery, are idyllically sited in a valley-mouth on the sheltered side of Inishbofin, between a reed-fringed lake and a sandy beach. St Macdara’s islet, on the other hand, is of elemental simplicity, a low dome of bare granite on which a tiny stone-roofed oratory, the structure of which imitates that of primitive cruck-built wooden chapels, sits as sedately as a winkle on a rock. For the celebrations of the saint’s day, 16 July, the fishing-boats of the nearest harbours of south Connemara bring hundreds of people to his island, but for the rest of the year its wind-polished silence and mica-glinting emptiness are perfect luxury to the ascetic soul. But the sea-sanctuary best suited to more turbulent spirits is that of High Island, two miles out into the Atlantic from the west coast of Connemara. It is only accessible on calm days when a boat can edge into a narrow cove at a point where its tall cliffs are climbable, and an Early Christian cross-slab rises from the wind-strimmed sward above. The remains of a little chapel and the monks’ corbelled stone huts cluster within a slight cashel wall at the farther, western end of the island, as if to get full penitential advantage of storm-driven spray. The foundation is attributed to St Feichín, also associated with Cong and Omey Island, who is said to have died in AD
In many parts of Ireland the most typical monuments of the pagan Iron Age and Early Christian periods, the so-called ‘ ringforts ’, are very numerous; but in Connemara they are strangely rare. The three dry-stone cashels and two earth-banked raths of north Connemara, the two earthen promontory forts on peninsulas of the west coast and the fragmentary stone ones in Inishbofin, probably represent Iron-Age militarism. The twenty or more crannógs or lake-dwellings that have been identified with some certainty in the western and southern lowlands of Connemara may be the local equivalent of small ringforts, the circular stockyards around the isolated huts of Iron Age or Early Christian farmers. Perhaps the growth of bog, overwhelming the hillside pastures, forced the evolution of a lake-culture, or of unenclosed shoreline settlements now marked only by great shell-middens. Certainly Connemara was far from deserted at this period, which pollen-records from various sites show to have been a time of increase in cereal crops and their weeds.
However, it seems that the pattern of a populated coastal fringe and an empty interior, which largely obtains today, was established by the early Middle Ages. Connemara’s radiating peninsulas and its islets broadcast in the ocean must have answered to the misanthropy of the sixth century, when every hermit wanted a desert to himself. Some of the many religious sites on the rim of Connemara are named from figures who seem at home in pure legend, like the fisherman’s saint, Macdara, also known as Síothnach, a name that perhaps associates him with squalls of wind, as do several folktales told of his powers. Other foundationsare attributed to personages who appear convincingly in history, such as St Colman, who retired to Inishbofin after losing the argument between the Irish and the Roman Church over the true date of Easter at the Synod of Whitby in AD 665 (thus initiating the sequence of Celtic causes in retreat to Connemara, which continues to the present day, and of which he should be the patron saint).
The roofless late mediaeval chapel and ancient graveyard, still in use, that mark the location of St Colman’s monastery, are idyllically sited in a valley-mouth on the sheltered side of Inishbofin, between a reed-fringed lake and a sandy beach. St Macdara’s islet, on the other hand, is of elemental simplicity, a low dome of bare granite on which a tiny stone-roofed oratory, the structure of which imitates that of primitive cruck-built wooden chapels, sits as sedately as a winkle on a rock. For the celebrations of the saint’s day, 16 July, the fishing-boats of the nearest harbours of south Connemara bring hundreds of people to his island, but for the rest of the year its wind-polished silence and mica-glinting emptiness are perfect luxury to the ascetic soul. But the sea-sanctuary best suited to more turbulent spirits is that of High Island, two miles out into the Atlantic from the west coast of Connemara. It is only accessible on calm days when a boat can edge into a narrow cove at a point where its tall cliffs are climbable, and an Early Christian cross-slab rises from the wind-strimmed sward above. The remains of a little chapel and the monks’ corbelled stone huts cluster within a slight cashel wall at the farther, western end of the island, as if to get full penitential advantage of storm-driven spray. The foundation is attributed to St Feichín, also associated with Cong and Omey Island, who is said to have died in AD
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