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Roads less travelled
MALCOLM ROGERS heads north-by-north-west to Yeats country and the fair county of
Sligo.
Sligo is a county renowned for its music and literature, immortalised in verse by WB Yeats and on canvas by his brother Jack B
Yeats.
And although Mrs Yeats’ two lads did very well in capturing the atmosphere of this extraordinary corner on the north-west fringes of Europe, in all honesty no pen or paintbrush could ever completely capture its beauty. And that’s despite the rash of Mexican-style bungalows which blight some of the county.
The tourist track is well trodden. Benbulben, Lough Gill of Lake Isle of Innisfree fame, and of course Drumcliff Cemetery, WB’s last resting place, are all well known to the ‘lick & look brigade’ — the crowds that arrive by coach tour, buy an ice cream, and depart. But Sligo has a wealth of treats in store aside from these more famous, busier attractions. Seeing as we’re waxing poetical, we might as well quote another poet’s famous lines: “I shall be telling this with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages hence: / Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — / I took the one less travelled by, / And that has made all the difference.”
Robert Frost may not actually have been referring to Sligo, but his lines could have been written for the less visited part of the county. The southern reaches of Sligo are a paradise for walkers, climbers and general view addicts, and boasts an array of prehistoric monuments as magnificent as any you’ll find anywhere in Europe,
Sligo’s high points
If it’s mountains you’re after, you’re spoilt for choice. The Dartry Mountains, the Curlew Mountains, the Ox Mountains and the Bricklieve Mountains surround and bisect the county.
The latter, the Bricklieves, are probably Ireland’s best kept hill-walking secret, and are as good a starting point as any. They rise in the south of the county and are a small, but exciting range — terrifyingly steep tracks take you up past grey limestone cliffs and onto one of the most beautiful bogland sceneries in Ireland, the great plains of Tubbercurry and Ballymote.
The Slieve Gamh, or Ox Mountains, run east-west across the county parallel with the shore, with consequent spectacular views of the Atlantic, and are believed to contain the oldest rocks in the county and perhaps in Ireland — many hundreds of millions of years old. The huge grey outcrops certainly look old and gnarled.
The Curlew Mountains offer breathtaking views of the county to the north, and are the vista that reputedly inspired Thomas Moore to sing of “The valley lay smiling before me.”
A more gentle stroll
If you haven’t packed your crampons and brown trousers you can instead take the gentler Historical Trail, a recently completed 5km route from Ballyfarnon through Highwood, Castlebaldwin, Boyle, Knockvicar and Keadew. Only one difficult part presents itself this way — a short and steep ascent beyond Boyle, but take it slowly and admire the surrounding meadows full of wildflowers and there’s no problem.
In the valley of the Bricklieves the poorly-drained soils of the clay have allowed the formation of a blanket bog many thousands of years old, with bog cotton dancing in the breeze, several species of heather adorning the land and larks rising every 20 yards or so.
The area is also home to one of Ireland’s great complexes of chambered cairns. The oldest site is found at Carrowmore, and from here a great chain of ancient sites stretches eastward, gaining in size and complexity. Carrowmore Megalithic Cemetery boasts 45 standing stones, all arranged under the stern gaze of the mother of all megalithic standing stones — Medb’s Cairn, on top of Knocknarea. Impressive, thought-provoking — and more than a little spooky.
Recent excavations have shown that humans lived in this neck of the woods perhaps as long as 7,400 years ago, and built the earliest tombs yet identified in western Europe. This has only recently come to light, and is important because a tomb is a very significant thing. It indicates respect for the dead (which to any other animal is just new meat) and a real attachment to ancestors. Evidently amongst these early people there was a need, which continues to the present day, to visit their dead and attempt to communicate with we-know-not-what.
Recent mock-ups using the bone structure of skulls found in this area have shown that these fledgling Europeans looked like members of Deep Purple. Despite this, 7,000 years ago they had at the very least, the beginnings of a complex society. These early people evidently enjoyed a good view as much as we do, building their cairns, dolmens and sepulchral chambers on Sligo’s dramatic Atlantic seaboard.
From turf to surf
However, it’s not all tomb tourism and hill walking. There are some idyllic seaside towns hereabouts.
 Easky, a renowned centre for surfboarding, stands on the famous Killala Bay, where the French ships anchored in 1798 in support of the Republican movement.
Iniscrone, a busy little seaside village of the type you probably thought didn’t exist any more, lies a little further down the coast. From here you can head back towards Tobercurry and drive through the Ox Mountains, past the impossibly picturesque Lough
Talt.
Sligo is an extraordinary county. It is Yeats country — much of his poetry was inspired by the surrounding landscape, and a short stay here will probably have you reaching for pen and paper yourself to jot down a few well-chosen words.
Sligo was also the birthplace of a lesser known figure, but arguably as important as Yeats. Fiddler Michael Coleman, a man many would claim was instrumental in saving Irish music from extinction in the early part of the 20th century, was born here 110 years ago. You can pay your respects to him in the village of Killavil, in an area of south Sligo, which has been famous for its traditional music for nearly 200 years.
Sligo town
The handsome, hilly capital of the county is steadily getting a reputation as a place where the traditional and the trendy have been combined into an attractive mix. There’s a thriving Yeats Summer School and an arts festival, both of which are coming up in August, as well as a nightlife which seems to be going full-throttle most of the year.
Situated at the mouth of the Garavogue River, Sligo is surrounded by mountains — Bebulben and Truskmore to the North, and Knockarea to the south. The town is built on several gravel ridges giving it its tightly-knit appearance, which these days, with a certain New Age influence, has led to some of the back streets having the appearance of Latin Quarter in Paris. I kid you not. Go yourself if you don’t believe me.
The day trip
Rosses Point is the obligatory day trip from Sligo town, and it’s not difficult to work out why. It boasts two truly magnificent sandy beaches — safe for swimming with a lifeguard patrol in the summer months, and views across Drumcliff Bay.
This is where the Yeats boys spent their summers with their cousins the Middletons at Elsinore Lodge, and the place is beautiful enough to raise the muse in anyone.
In a land of romantic names and resonances, the headland at Rosses Point stands out like a sore thumb. Deadman’s Point gets its name from an incident at the turn of the 19th century. A foreign seaman was given a burial at sea — but was provided with a loaf of bread as his shipmates weren’t sure if he was dead or not. The reason for the haste in the funeral arrangements was that the crew wanted to make port before the tide turned... Sligo is, after all, famed for the hospitality of its pubs.
Grave concerns
Drumcliff was an important early Christian monastic site founded in the sixth century by St. Colmcille, one of the giants of the early Christian church. Today it’s more famous for being the last resting place of WB Yeats in Drumcliff Cemetery.
After casting a cold eye on life, on death (as per Yeats’ instructions on his headstone) pass by, but instead of heading for the sea, turn inland and a few miles from Drumcliff you will reach the magnificent Glencar Lough.
Equip yourself with a copy of Aedh Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven, sit on the banks of the lough with the nearby waterfalls as a soundtrack, and soak up the atmosphere. “Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths...”
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