A little ramble today up at Meenadreen, Donegal - ( Mín na Draighean, the Blackthorn pasture). The Foxglove wildflowers are on nature’s catwalk at the moment, and these tall, colourful supermodels are killing it. Foxglove are native to Ireland, and its Irish name, ‘Mearacain na mBan Sí’ means ‘Fairy Thimbles’, which is wonderful. Their purple-pink spikes almost defy gravity this time of year, poking their bell flowers skyward, and their glamorous swagger distracts us from the fact that this is a highly toxic plant, fatal to humans and animals if ingested. Stories from the Irish Folklore Archive associate Foxgloves with the Banshee, and warn of the bad luck if they are brought into the house- (Ilove how Irish folklore is often practical health and safety advice dressed in fairy clothing). There are other wildflowers, weeds and fungi poking out along the way, but they are out of their league until these pretty but pernicious plants have had their sashay. Enjoy!
#donegal #rambles #studyabroadireland #findmyireland #foxgloves

Our ramble today is in the forest, down by Cuilcagh Mountain, along the border of County Cavan and County Fermanagh. We are grateful for a breeze, as the day is warm and the forest lush, so you know those tiny torturers, the Irish midges are dying to feast on our pale and bare summer ankles. The Wood Sorrell, that shamrock impersonator, is blanketing the forest floor, interrupted here and there by mushrooms, Herb Robert, and a spongy layer of forest detritus. Birdsong and the gentle rustle of the tall pines provides the sound track, and the peace is indeed, dropping slowly. Enjoy.
#cavanburren #rambles #ireland #findmyireland #trips #tours

Our final ramble features some of the buildings of the island. The old schoolhouse and some of the derelict cottages are a reminder of the communities that once lived on the islands. It’s easy to fall in love with the dramatic scenery and splendid isolation as a well heeled day tripper, but island literature & folklore tells a different story -hard lives, hard weather, and sadly, little more than lip service from the State ~ an establishment that on the one hand, boasted of a precious cluster of Gaelic speaking gems along its Western Coast, but failed miserably to support the islanders themselves. It looks like there is a lot of refurbishment going on at the moment, and I understand there has been a real effort to develop infrastructure and transport ~ all good, of course, but I’m conscious that these photos might romanticize the isolation, emigration and governmental neglect of islanders for decades. Hopefully, we now understand and appreciate what a magnificent resource our islands and island communities are, and they will be the drivers and beneficiaries of revitalization. Slán go foill, beidh muid ar ais ar oilean eile go luath, go raibh maith agaibh Donal agus Lorraine, Harry, Lucky bhí cuairt galanta againne
#findmyireland #corncrake #donegal #rambles #inisbofin #studyabroadireland #wildatlanticway

Our initial introduction to Inisbofin island was impressive, but our ramble to explore the back of the island brought us a glut of joy - our expectation of Donegal is always high, but all of its riches were rolled out in this Aladdin’s island. Let’s begin with what you can’t see- there are Corncrakes here. Not one or two, but a throaty, croaking choir, who turn it up to eleven when the evening falls. There is the heady scent of seaweeds and wildflowers in the air. The salty breeze whips the bog cotton into a frenzied jitterbug, and drenched grasses glitter brightly in a post-shower burst of sunshine. And as we round the shoulder of the island, straining for a better view of Tory island, the arc of a perfect beach comes into view - Tobar an Ghlasáin, white sands, green water, swatches of glittering pebbles artfully scattered here and there. We - Robinson, the Labrador and I- had this whole beach to ourselves. There was nothing for it but to get into that water! It felt like we had broken into a cover shot on a Greek island magazine. The sharp intake of breath doesn’t happen when you swim in Greece- it does in Donegal - but look at the bonuses- No people. No mosquitoes. No noise. No sharks. No litter. Just Balor, watching you carefully, and the hoarse Tom Waits-like corncrakes, singing you home. Enjoy
#donegal #findmyireland #rambles #corncrake #inisbofin
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The Donegal Islands - Inisbofin ramble (Part One)
Welcome to a series of summer rambles to some of the most extraordinary places along our Atlantic Coast. Donegal’s islands offer such a sensory overload of scenery and culture that you walk around with your jaw permanently dropped from the experience. Today’s visit is to Inisbofin off the coast of Magheraroarty. Inisbofin (Inis bó finne) means the Island of the White Cow - the poor cow in question was turned to a lump of bright stone by a spell, according to folklore, and a large white stone on the island suggests this might be true. You expect a bit of magic here, what with the one-eyed giant Balor as a next-door neighbour on Tory - and it is truly a magical island. It’s small, about 300 acres. It takes 10 minutes to get here by ferry, and as you pull away from the harbour, the dramatic silhouette of mountains from Muckish to Errigal comes into focus. As you approach the small pier, a causeway of pebbles that stretches out into the turquoise waters is commandeered by gulls, herons and shags. We are here for a few days, so we’ll post a few of our rambles here for you, so you can share and enjoy a tiny piece of island paradise, Donegal -style!
#donegal #islands #wildatlanticway #findmyireland #studyabroadireland #ireland #rambles Inishbofin Ferry

Today’s ramble is a fascinating one - we are at Crohy Head, near Dungloe and we are exploring the unique seascape known as ‘Bristí’ - a scattering of enormous stones around a wonderful natural sea arch. The scale and variety of colour in the stones down here is magnificent- there are the tiniest of pebbles strewn between enormous boulders, in all shades from ochre to speckled orange to onyx-ie layers of black and white. The sea stack can’t be seen from the road, so we have to shimmy down a fairly steep pathway, among the bog cotton and the pretty ‘Sheep’s Bit’ which is flowering right now, confetti-ing the pathway in purples and blues. The water is clear and energetic, smoothing the stones as they clack against each other. Tiny rock pools nestle in the crevices, silvery flashes of little fish between the snub anemones. Time seems suspended down here, it’s both beautiful and terrifying in its slow, relentless erosion. Another amazing and magical Donegal ramble!
#crohy #seastacks #studyabroadireland
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Many five star hotels advertise an ‘infinity pool’ - but look at this magnificent and all-natural view! This lake is on the edge of the Atlantic, with views sweeping out to an infinite horizon. In the misty backdrop, Ben Bulben Mountain rises proud and sturdy in Connacht, keeping an eye on those wild Ulster cliffs. Sheep roam freely here, eye rolling the tourists as they try, mostly in vain, to get a selfie. Perched further down is a stalwart tower, built in the time of Napoleon, and I’m perched down there too, bewitched as always by this beautiful county
#donegal #infinitypool #findmyireland

Colmcille Rambles Part III ~ Island of Iona
Our rambles this week are in the footsteps of Donegal scholar, and missionary Colm Cille (St. Columba) whose feast day was June 9.
The journey to the Scottish island of Iona is still only possible by boat, and the boats are still liable to be thwarted by bad weather. We had a choice of visiting Iona late in the evening when the ferry was definitely going over, or waiting until the next day, when passage was unlikely. So we chose the evening, even though darkness was already falling as we made our way out.
It is impossible to be on the water and not imagine what it must have been like for the 6th century monks. While the friendly cottages would not have been blinking out their welcome, the island contours and blustery skies would have been the same. My eyes were sandblasted and watery, from the wind, but also from some undefinable sense of awe at the raw elemental nature of the journey.
When you get to the island, you trot by some fishermens' cottages that are now holiday rentals, and you can see a large stone abbey in the centre of the island. This is obviously a much more modern building, but it is built on the site of the old Abbey, and some of the old crosses remain.
Colmcille's reasons to leave Ireland for Scotland are probably connected to his desire to continue to build monasteries and keep spreading the word of Christianity. However, it has become part of the story of Colmcille that he self-exiled to a remote Scottish island as a penance for a war that he had caused over a copy of a manuscript. This story comes from a descendent of Colmcille's family, one of the powerful O'Donnells of Donegal, and links a massive battle and the manuscript to the legend of Colmcille. Not only do we get a reason for Colmcille's emigration, we also get some other great stories about him returning to Ireland blindfolded, and wearing sods of Scottish turf tied to his feet (so he doesn't actually 'set foot' in Ireland ever again).
What is interesting is that the story of the Cathach or copied manuscript emerges at around the same time as the Printing Press, and the famous 'judgement' of the 6th century - 'to every cow her calf, to every book its copy' may well be a far more contemporary warning to would-be copiers. It's a lot more imaginative then a sticker on your photocopier!
Colm Cille arrived in Iona in 563 and built a wooden church, and a writing hut for himself, which was more than likely on the hilly lump that's photographed here- it's called 'Tór an Aba' or the Hill of the Abbot. Almost as soon as they arrived, Colmcille and his monks began writing stuff down- dates and events, which eventually was collected into a chronicle, and this was later included in the Annals of Ireland. This is a vital source of information for later historians. When Colmcille dies on Iona in 597, he is buried on the island, and people start making pilgrimages there, hoping that proximity to a saintly man like CC will help them on their own spiritual journey. In 690, Adómnan, a well respected scholar writes a biography of Colmcille, and by the 1400s, pilgrimages to Iona are big business, and include stations at high crosses and at the vault containing the saint. With the cult of Colmcille comes the stories and legends- the miracles, the cures, the folklore - and more hagiographies. And here's us, in 2024, still talking about it. So how successful was that for a campaign!
I think it is the remoteness and the relative endurance of these sites that impresses you the most. It is, for the most part, cliff and ocean, stone and ruin. It's light and shade, and myth and legend. It was worth it, every second of twilight.
#studyabroadireland #colmcille #iona #easterrambles #niamhandrobinson #earlychristianity #instititeofstudyabroadireland

Colmcille ramble - part II
Our rambles around places associated with Colm Cille (Columba) began yesterday in Gartan, Donegal. We ramble today to a place in South West Donegal which is actually named Glen Colmcille. There is a very famous pilgrimage or 'Turas' (thurras) that takes place here every June 9, and there are a host of stories and legends about the saint's appearances here in the Glen- (although there is no historical evidence that he was ever there). Religious pilgrimages were popular in medieval times and while wealthier people found their way to the Holy Land or Rome, local pilgrimages were very important sources of revenue for the early church. It always helped if you could attach pilgrimages to superstar saints like Patrick and Brigid and Colm, and the tradition of celebrating saints' days became very popular, and sometimes, a bit wild! When the reformation came, a stern stop was put to these practices, but of course, banning cultural and religious traditions that were centuries old only made them more popular and they also became associated with traditional values and a sense of Irish nationalism.
Although we call Colm, Brigid and Patrick 'Saints', they would never have been officially canonised, this was a practice that came in long after they went to their heavenly reward. But they are acknowledged as profoundly devout and holy, and active missionaries who built churches and monasteries and inspired many more to go and do Christian preaching and teaching. Legends and stories that could be located in and around the monastic sites, churches and abbeys flourished, with a generous dose of some miracles, magic, myth and hyperbole, and over centuries of repetition on dark winter nights by the fire, who is to say Colm Cille did not banish the demons sent to the Glen by Patrick, or turned poisonous water into curative water, and all the rest?
Anyhow, Glencolmcille has a lot going for it. It is staggeringly beautiful, and it is Irish-Speaking, and as an aside, I'll say some of the nicest people in the universe live there. A very smart priest by the name of Fr. McDyer had the brainwave of creating a folk village, which is an extremely popular tourist amenity, and the popular Oideas Gael School also brings thousands of Irish Language learners to this tiny, gorgeous glen. The turas itself is still very popular, and features 15 'stations' - all stone monuments, and many of them pre-Christian, and the whole enterprise keeps Colmcille very much present in Donegal tradition- whether he was there or not! #glencolmcille #turas #rambles #colmcille #columba #donegal #studyabroadireland

Today, June 9, is the feast day of St. Colm Cille. Donegal, Ireland was the birthplace of this very interesting scholar and missionary who became a significant influencer in the growth of early Christianity in Ireland and Britain. Colm, Patrick and Brigid are Ireland’s three Patron Saints, and while Patrick and Brigid are widely celebrated, Colm is arguably the most influential ~ and his early years are very specifically located in Donegal.
Each of the three saints mentioned here were at the earliest stages of Christianity in Ireland, so they were very much part of the transition from pre-Christian belief systems into a modern system that accommodated a lot of the old ways into a new framework. This means they are not just historical players, but symbols, influencers and celebrity figures in the unfolding story of the early Irish church.
We will get to Colmcille's very significant role as missionary later in our rambles, but today we are visiting his birthplace at beautiful Gartan, in our own home county, Donegal.
Overlooking Gartan lake, a large cross marks Colm’s birthplace, beside a flat slab of stone, known in Irish language as a ‘leac’ (lack). Tradition holds it that it was here that Colmcille's mother Eithne gave birth to him in 521 CE. Curiously, the same stone is part of an ancient tomb, so we are seeing a pre-Christian sacred space becoming rebranded as a very special Christian space. The stone is known as ‘Leac na Cumha’. The word 'Cumha' means a type of loneliness best described in English as homesickness, and there is a story that Colmcille left a blessing on the stone that would cure this condition. It was a bitter-sweet tradition in this area of Donegal for people to spend a night at Leac Na Cumha before emigrating; Colmcille himself would emigrate to Scotland later in his life, and of course, hundreds of thousands of Donegal people would emigrate to Scotland and beyond for centuries afterwards.
#ireland #donegal #colmcille #earlychristianity #rambles #studyabroadireland