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Lovely Leitrim
Malcolm Rogers pays a visit to the North East of the country, to the lovely lands of County Leitrim.
They’re talking about splitting Co. Leitrim in two. Can’t think why — it’s the least populated county in Ireland with only some 25,000 souls wedged between a huge lough and a two mile coastline. 25,000 people. You could actually fit them all into the Cusack Stand of Croke Park (and still have room for a few busloads of people from Roscommon as well).
So why on earth Leitrim needs two administrative areas, well, you’ll have to consult the chap responsible, Dick Roche, Minister for Environment. Tell him I sent you.
It is worth noting, however, that administration has always seemed important up here. In days gone by, in 1613 to be exact, Carrick-on-Shannon was declared a borough by James I and the county thus returned two members to the Irish Parliament — until the abolition of the franchise.
Myself, I’m more than satisfied with the area as it stands now — one TD, and a clatter of pubs where problems both local and global can be sorted out in the wee small hours.
During my visit to Carrick I was in the company of a friend, Dermot Casey, a barrister from Carrick now resident in London. I thus spent a very fruitful few days — pushing Dermot for free legal advice — while at the same time getting a conducted tour of this fine little town. And of course, sorting out the woes of the world.
“Did you know that there is only one set of traffic lights in the whole of Leitrim?” asked Dermot.
Could this be true? It seemed odd, but just about possible. But Dermot insisted it was indeed the case. “And there’s more,” he added. “The only one we do have is on the Shannon — on the river. For the boats.”
I conceded it made sense. Because the whole raison d’être of Carrick these days seems to be to service the burgeoning cruise boat industry. From Carrick you can join the Shannon-Erne Waterway, which allows you to head North towards Enniskillen, or south to the Shannon Estuary and out to the open sea.
That’s not to say that Carrick isn’t blessed with charms for landlubbers as well. At the top end of Bridge Street is the “second smallest chapel in the world.” Now I know of at least three claimants to the title of “smallest church in Ireland”, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there is more than one second smallest chapel in the world.
Anyway, whatever its claims, the minuscule Costello Chapel, built in 1877 by Edward Costello is certainly impressive in the modesty of its proportions. It was built on Mr Costello’s instructions as a memorial to Mrs Costello. Reunited in death, the loving couple’s lead coffins lie on each side of the tiny beautifully decorated aisle.
Protocol at this stage demanded that we stop off at one of Carrick’s fine selection of pubs for a drink. Armstrong’s, next to the Costello Chapel seemed the perfect place for the job.
It was quiet, cosy, and warm, so protocol steered us in the direction of another round — and it seemed churlish not to try the smoked salmon and cucumber on wheaten bread. Protocol can be a hard mistress.
Suitably fortified we ventured out into the daylight again to continue our tour of the town — where I learned some 25 carat globules of history.
Listen up. Until the early 19th Century, the head of the Shannon Navigation was nearby Drumsna, where the famous English novelist, Trollope, was Postmaster. Trollope, who invented the post box, lived in many parts of Ireland, but Dermot assured me he was happiest in Leitrim. I didn’t doubt it for a second.
Trollope’s invention of the post box — leading to the invention of the stamp— has left behind one curious anomaly. British stamps are the only ones in the world which don’t carry the name of their country of origin on them. (Mind you, as a mark of recognition that Carrick was Trollope’s fancy, you would have thought that Carrick-on-Shannon could appear on all stamps, wouldn’t you?)
Never mind. A spot more history. Following the defeat of the native chieftain Brian Óg O’Rourke in 1603, it was imperative for the English to secure the major Shannon crossings, and so the Castle of Carrickdrumruske was built in the town.
Although the castle and a wooden bridge were still there in 1623 the English grip on matters must have slipped because Carrick was described at the time as “a highway for all stealths from County Roscommon into O’Rourke’s country and from Breny (Breffne) into Roscommon”.
After all that history, it was time for dinner, and really, there’s no better place than the Oarsman in the centre of town. Sautéed scallops, venison stuffed with wild mushrooms and baby vegetables served with sweet potatoes (tel: 00 353 78 962 1733).
The place also serves some very tasty lunchtime snacks — but protocol is a bit hazy about whether you have to order up the really devastating almond tart with melted chocolate and cream. I assumed it was de rigeur, if you’ll pardon my French, but Dermot wasn’t sure.
My day in Carrick was near enough ideal. It’s a compact, handsome old town, with all the things I require from a holiday destination. It has a fascinating history, enough decent eating places to keep the hunger pangs away, a couple of fine hostelries, a grand hotel — and access to some terrific countryside.
Well satisfied with our day, it was time for myself and Dermot to retire to the comfort of Burke’s Bar (that old tyrant protocol). The company, the craic and the traditional music were all well above EU approved standards, and a splendid night ensued.
Protocol further demanded that we staggered home at an hour when all decent people should be abed.
The next day I bid Dermot farewell, and with my head ever so slightly fuzzy, headed off to discover the rest of Leitrim.
Co. Leitrim has often been labelled a mapping error, in that it has just over two miles of coastline, a huge lough splitting the county in two, and several substantial mountains — all this crammed into one little corner of Connacht.
But don’t let that put you off. Mapping error or no, this area has charms aplenty. My own penchant on a holiday is for mountain and hill-walking, and the Dartry Mountains in particular provide plenty of opportunity for some superb hikes. The area is rugged, and although not rising to any great height, the limestone outcrops form dramatically curious shapes, with vertical cliffs and isolated rock spires. The highest of the summits is Truskmore, which at some 2,113 feet is a bit beyond me. My lungs begin to wheeze like an old concertina after about a thousand feet or two hours (which ever comes first), so I have to confess that I sat down on a comfortable rock on the lower slopes of the mountain and admired the view from a distance.
In the old days, most light entertainment programmes always ended with the presenter bursting into song, and really, I can’t think of a better way myself to end this particular article. So altogether now,
“Last night I had a pleasant dream, I woke up with a smile,
I dreamt that I was back again in dear old Erin’s Isle.
I thought I saw Lough Allen’s banks in the valley down below,
It was my lovely Leitrim where the Shannon waters flow.”
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