Thursday August 9
     It was a fine warm day, and after breakfast we went to the Clifden Connemara Pony Show.  We parked at the church in town and walked through the trade fair that had been set up in the streets of Clifden.  Booths were selling everything from food to hand-knit clothing to live chickens and ducks.  We made our way down to the fairgrounds at the bottom of the town square.  
     The ponies were beautiful.  We watched in-hand classes for both mares and stallions, divided by age group.  They were stood up and judged for conformation, then walked and trotted in hand.  In the lower ring we saw riding classes; children hacked the ponies in a group, with the best ones called back to ride a dressage-like pattern.  The ponies were fit and athletic, and most were beautiful movers.

    Most of the ponies were grey or creamy white, with the occasional dun or bay.  The stallions in particular were fun to watch, all puffed up and prancing, full of presence and showing off.  We were struck by how much some of the pony stallions resembled smaller versions of our late Irish Sport Horse stallion, Windstar.

     We left the pony show midafternoon and headed back toward the mainland of Ireland, but taking the scenic route, exploring the back roads on the way.  We drove up through the Maam Valley, following our nose to see where the road would lead us.  A tiny dead-end lane took us around back of the mountain range we had hiked on the previous day, to where the Western Way leads up to St. Patrick’s Chapel - we could see Mám Éan pass and Binn Chaonaigh from the opposite side.

     Presently we left wild Connemara and headed south past Galway, crossing more typical Irish countryside.  The fields and farmland were lined with stone walls.  Around six in the evening we came to Ross Abbey, a well-preserved ruin sitting in the middle of a cow field.  We spent a contented hour wandering through it. 
     We drove on south, past the towns of Kilcolgan and Gort, enjoying the beautiful rolling countryside.  It was getting dark by the time we got to our B&B for the night (we had called ahead), the Lakeside Country Lodge near Ennis.  We had Happy Hour on the patio, looking down across the pastures to Lough Killone at the bottom of the hill, and the stone ruins of Killone Abbey on the far shore.

Friday August 10
     We got an early start in the morning because we were headed down to the Millstreet Horse Show, in County Cork.  Over breakfast we learned that the couple who run the B&B had a Connemara pony jumping at Millstreet that afternoon, in the ‘three-year-olds lungeing over fences’ class.  
     But we couldn’t get on the road without first checking out the Killone Abbey!  Although it was just across the lake from the B&B, we had to drive several miles down back roads to reach the entrance.  We parked by a gateway and walked up a small lane for about fifteen minutes to the abbey, and we had the place totally to ourselves.  It was lovely, with a cemetery on three sides, and dungeons in the lowest level.  We climbed the stairs and walked out on the parapet, and looked down over the grounds.  The hill stretched up to rolling farmland, and a swan with four cygnets floated on the lough below.  We decided this was our best abbey to date.

     Walking back up the lane to our car we passed a cave-like hole in the bank among the trees, well covered in moss and ivy – surely this must be a fairy hole.  We kept a close eye out for leprechauns but saw none.  Back in the car, we found a shortcut out to the main road, and soon we were heading south. 
     On past trips to Ireland we had always, without fail, gotten lost in the city of Limerick.  No matter how hard we tried to follow the signposts through town we would end up taking convoluted routes on numerous side streets.  But since we had visited last they had built a bypass, so now navigating past Limerick was a breeze.    
     The Millstreet Horse Show was amazing.  We parked in a grassy field near the stables and toured the showground; there were at least eight arenas going at once.  The majority of the classes seemed to be jumpers, but we also saw kids on ponies, three and four year olds being loose-schooled over fences, and young horses lungeing over jumps.  We wandered from one ring to another, and saw a number of people we knew from horse-shopping.  
     In the afternoon we watched the Grand Prix Jumper class in the main arena.  It was quite well contested, with quite a few riders from England and Europe having come over to compete at Millstreet and the Dublin Horse Show the following week.   

     We had arranged to visit a friend of ours, Robin Blackmore, from whom I had bought several horses from in the past, including Star Bright and Drifter.  Robin lives about two hours from Millstreet, so we needed to leave the show by mid-afternoon.  When we went out to the car park, we found to our dismay that our car was totally blocked in by other vehicles.  Repeated announcements of the offending license plates yielded no results, but one of the cars behind us had a phone number on it.  When we called the driver and he came to move the vehicle, it turned out he was the trainer who would be longeing the pony over fences for the owners of the B&B where we had stayed the night before.  Small world!  We finally got on the road, but more than an hour late.

     We drove northeast past Cashel, and on to the town of Killenaule.  The directions Robin had given us said that we would pass a graveyard on the left and a small well on the right, and then we would turn into the next gateway.  But it turned out that the graveyard was hidden behind a stone wall, and the small well wasn’t really a well after all, so already running late, we missed the turning.  Eventually we found the right driveway, after Robin stood in the road and flagged us down.
     Robin had arranged for us to have a tour of Kilcooley Abbey.  He drove us down a private lane through the thousand-acre Kilcooley Estate; it is an impressive property, but unfortunately the large manor house and stable block are now unoccupied and falling into disrepair.  A twelve foot high stone wall surrounds the property; Robin called it a Famine Wall, built by laborers in return for food during the great famine in the mid-1800s.

     Robin introduced us to Liam Noonan, a local historian who acts as a caretaker of sorts for the Kilcooley Estate and Abbey, and he gave us a fabulous private tour.  We walked across a newly cut hayfield to the abbey, magnificent in the slanting rays of evening sunshine.  The walls are of thick stone, with grass growing on top of them where the roof once was.  One side is adorned with gracefully arched windows with intricate patterns fashioned in cement, long devoid of glass.  There is no cemetery, but a smooth green lawn surrounds the ancient building, and a grove of mature hardwood trees stands behind it.
     Liam was a wealth of information, giving us the history of the abbey and the surrounding areas.  He told us some of the history of the Butlers, the Barkers and the Ponsonbys, the families who have owned the estate.  The abbey is nearly nine hundred years old; it was built over three hundred years before Columbus discovered America.  Though technically open to the public, few people know about the abbey and hardly anyone goes there, and it would be quite difficult to find it on your own.    
     We entered through the arched doors of the front entrance.  The original structure of the abbey dates back to 1186.  We went from room to room, with Liam telling us the details about every arch and stone carving.  He could tell in what era each was crafted by its style and mason’s marks.  In the main hall near the entrance there are several intricately carved tombs and a large stone altar.  One of the tombs in particular is very grand, with a detailed replica of the occupant carved in stone on the lid; Liam told us that it is the tomb of one of the Butlers, and it dates from around 1467.  He noted that the face is gone, probably long since removed by enemies of the Butlers.  The carving of the occupant’s hands on the sword and the chain mail armor is finely detailed.  A dog lies at his feet, signifying loyalty.  Liam said that a dog sleeping peacefully means the person died in peace, but if its teeth are bared it means the person was poisoned.

     Figures carved around the side of the tomb represent ten of the twelve apostles, and Liam could name them all and identify the significance of what each was holding.  (We didn’t find out what happened to the other two.)  He pointed out that the lettering on the coffin is raised rather than recessed, which was a much more time-consuming and expensive process to create.  It would have taken something like 500 man hours to carve out around the letters, and few families could have afforded to have it done.     
     The high arched ceilings are of graceful design.  There are little cubbyholes in the thick walls with recessed seats for the abbots, and a sacristy room behind the altar where they would prepare for services.  There are many stone carvings on the walls and archways, and Liam could read the Latin inscriptions and interpret their meaning.  There is a depiction of St. Christopher, and of a pike eating an eel.  A mermaid graces one wall, a mirror in one hand and a comb in the other, with two fishes beside her.  Liam expounded on the theories of what each of these symbols represented.  Many of the sculptures and ornate arches bear a mason’s mark, a little flower or design inscribed in the stone to identify the mason who created it.  

     Liam’s detailed knowledge of the abbey was amazing.  Whenever we asked him a question, he would say “and that’s another story”, and then launch into a detailed narrative.  He talked for hours, and we were mesmerized.  I wish I could have recorded all of the rich history he recounted to us.
       We walked around to the back of the abbey to the living quarters.  The abbey would have been home to about twenty monks, and maybe another twenty laypersons.  Part of the abbey was used as an infirmary, especially during the cholera epidemic, and it also served as a nursing home for elderly people to live out their days.  A huge ancient yew tree stands in a grassy courtyard; Liam told us that yews, with their poisonous properties, were often planted in churchyards and cemeteries to keep wild boars from digging up the graves.  We saw no visible cemetery at the Kilcooley Abbey, but it seems likely that there could be mortal remains somewhere deep beneath that green lawn. 
     Across the field from the abbey is a dovecote, a small round building of stone used to house pigeons and doves.  Inside, the rough stone walls have indentions for the birds to nest, and a circular hole in the top for them to fly in and out of.  The pigeons would have been used as messengers, and also perhaps for food.
     It was an amazing opportunity to have a private tour of this beautiful abbey with Liam.  As we walked back across the field, with the newly cut hay lying in windrows, Liam noted that the swallows were flying high over the castle, portending fine weather for haymaking.  He told us that when the swallows fly low over the fields, bad weather is coming.  At first we thought this was superstition, but Liam explained that the changes in barometric pressure influence the altitude at which the insects fly, and the birds follow them. 

    For some reason this had seemed to be our trip for visiting abbeys.  Just that morning we had been checking out the Killone Abbey across the lough from our B&B and thinking it was the best one we had seen, but our visit to Kilcooley surpassed it by far.  We said goodbye to Liam, and then Robin drove us by the Kilcooley estate’s manor house and stable block.  Both are relatively new compared to the abbey, having been built in the 1800s, but are sadly falling into a state of neglect.  Robin said the entire thousand acre estate was being offered for sale, but it would cost so much to restore it to good condition that nobody could afford to buy it.

      We returned to Robin’s farm, and he took us to see a fairy fort.  The sun was setting as we walked across the pasture to a circular grove of trees, surrounded by a deep moat-like trench and bordered by a thicket of blackthorn bushes.  Robin explained that this remnant of an ancient ringfort was built by the people who inhabited Ireland during the Iron Age.  Commonly known as fairy forts, these artifacts left behind by Ireland’s earliest inhabitants are scattered across the country.  
     We crossed the ten foot deep, steep-sided trench and entered the dense copse.  It was quite dark under the trees, and we could just dimly make out the remains of several age-old circular huts of mud and stone.  Robin told us that at night the people would have brought the livestock down into the surrounding trench, and then blocked the opening with thorn bushes.  The entrances are usually on the south side, but nobody knows why.
     Tradition claims that these ancient dwellings were imbued with Druids' magic, and those who believe in fairies will not alter them.  Many local people believe that to remove anything from these forts or to cut any trees in them will cause bad luck or a curse.  I had just picked up a stone to add to my collection of souvenirs when Robin told us this - I hastily put it back.

     Robin said that when he was a child his father used to run a hunter pace event across their farm.  One year he routed the course through the ring fort, and cut some branches to clear the trail.  The old farmhand who worked for him predicted that something bad would come of it, and sure enough, a week later Robin’s father had a bad fall and broke his leg.  The farmhand insisted it was because of a curse brought on by disturbing the fairy fort.   
     Robin told us that his son had done a school project about the fairy fort, putting together an exhibit with photos and information, and he had taken a rock from the fort as part of the display.  After his presentation the teacher had asked if the school could keep the rock for a permanent exhibition; Robin’s son said ‘No way,’ and made sure to replace the stone exactly where he had found it.
     We weren’t sure if fairies and leprechauns inhabited this Iron Age fort, or if the curses were real, but the place certainly felt magical.
     We returned to Robin’s house, quite a bit later than planned, and his wife treated us to a fabulous lamb dinner.  It had been a spectacular afternoon.  We ended up being close to midnight getting to The Castle, our lodging for the night.  It is a grand old manor house that has been converted to a B&B, with very fancy rooms appointed with rich brocade bedspreads and drapes.  We felt like royalty, though the place seemed just a little eerie.  The house is attached to an old castle keep in back, but we were not allowed to go into it.  We slept soundly, dreaming of fairies no doubt.