Norman Country

I’ve been watching a four part PBS series on the “telly” about the Normans. I’ve learned a lot, the most important thing being that I don’t know much about this stuff. You might remember the “Norman Conquest” of England if you weren’t always dozing in your high school history class. If I learned anything then, I’ve forgotten it. And these days I can’t even remember the details of the “Breakfast Conquest” from this morning. 

It was interesting to discover that the word “Norman” means “North Men” and the Normans, who were of course from Normandy in France, were actually Vikings who settled there earlier. Under William the Conqueror they invaded England in 1066.

The Normans moved on to invade Ireland a hundred years later in 1169. Back then, Ireland was really divided with multiple “kings” vying for control of their little kingdoms. The Normans brought trade, order and development to the country, not to mention the amazing castles, but also a 750 year reign of oppression.

It has just recently come to light that the Anglo-Normans also freely shared their DNA with the indigenous population. The evidence is pretty clear that today’s Irish are not actually descended from the Celts who arrived much earlier. (This is a touchy subject so I’d better not dwell on it). 

Yellow fields of rapeseed everywhere

One of the first and most famous Anglo-Norman conquerors was William de Clare, aka Strongbow. You’ve probably seen him in the movies. He fought many battles but his first defeat in Ireland came….wait for it…. IN THURLES…. literally in my backyard and the field beyond. The year was 1174 (according to the Annals of the Four Masters, whoever they were). 1700 Englishmen were slain. That means there’s at least 1700 pieces of medieval artifacts buried under my flowers, right? Every time I plant something I cross my fingers. I prefer jewelry but I’d settle for a bone!

All this is to say that when we decided to take "the Bard" on another excursion, I was intrigued by the campsite called "The Norman View" in Wexford in the area of "The Norman Way". That's where the initial invasion took place. Siobhan, the weather lady, gave a thumbs up so off we set.

Along the way we saw signs for the ruins of Tintern Abbey. I wanted it to be the Tintern Abbey that William Wordsworth wrote about (high school English class) but instead discovered it was actually what we would call a church plant from the original abbey in Wales. It was founded by a guy named William Marshal who incidentally was married to Strongbow's daughter, Isabel.

Tintern Abbey

History records that William met with rough seas on crossing from England to Ireland and promised God that if spared, he would start a monastery. And he did just that with Tintern Abbey. I guess he figured that God is not to be messed with. 

It’s a traditional Cistercian abbey ruin much like Jerpoint, Hore and Kilcooley Abbeys which I’m familiar with. The grounds were lovely and scenic with walks beside the Bannow River and through the woods, and we hung around there for the afternoon.

Then we went to find The Norman View. I have to say the campsite itself was nothing special. It was clean and friendly and was right on the sea but a barrier separated us from the water. We were told it was a ten minute walk to a beach and a little longer to a pub. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, but the weather was its usual misty, windy, nasty self and it was cold (curse you, Siobhan!) 

Did I mention I forgot my coat??? I have a checklist of things to take camping and never thought it necessary to include my coat on the list because that should be so obvious, but an hour from home I realized I didn’t have it on.  At least I had SOMETHING on. It’s just a matter of time.

Where the Normans landed

So instead of driving into town after sunset (couldn’t drink and drive), we tried watching the telly in the Bard but we couldn’t get a signal. So I just lay there imagining the invading Norman army sneaking up on us with swords and spears and stealing my silver necklace which would appear over a thousand years later embedded in the hard clay supporting my geraniums.

After breakfast in the Bard, we debated whether to drive left or right for the next day and night. Right it was, so we headed to Kilmore Quay to see if it was as beautiful as Google described. And it was! A small, quiet fishing village full of boats, monuments to ship wreck victims and incredible rock formations on the beach. We had a sandwich at a little cafe then on to exploring. 

Kilmore Quay

I didn’t even know that I was cold (I was layered in all the clothes I brought plus a light jacket I had fortuitously thrown in at the last minute). There is a large jetty protruding from the beach called Forlorn Point. They say the rocks there are 600 million years old. 

Forlorn Point

Dixie basked in the wind and whiffs of the sea while I meticulously sifted through the megaannum. Of course, I stuffed my pockets with souvenirs and now have a BOX of rocks at home that I have no idea what to do with except stare at.

When I felt certain I had inspected every square nook and cranny of Forlorn Point we drove to the nearby campsite to check in. It had been recommended by folks we met at The Norman View and they assured us there was plenty of space. And there was, only they were closing for the week and turned us away, but not without directions to seek out St Margaret’s at nearby Lady’s Island. We called to inquire but got no answer. Google said they were closed. 

St Margaret's Beach

By faith, we drove there anyway and found they were quite open and had lots of room. Unfortunately the electric power was limited, so we were told not to use any power blowing heating implements. That included my hair dryer. I was frustrated to have to endure another day of frizz-out humidity hair. I’d like to think I’m a true outdoor girl at heart. I adore time spent with nature. But I’m also my mother's girly girl and, in her honor, I try to keep the barn painted and the wheat sorted. 

St Margaret’s was a quiet, secluded site with a large bath/kitchen area. We were impressed. I walked over to check out the facilities with my steamy, creamy, signature latte I’d bought on the way. In the bath house I spied a strange contraption on the wall and, too curious, lifted the arm on it. It sprang to life like a startled jack rabbit. OMG… It was a hair dryer! My latte went flying through the air and crashed to the floor with a splatter over walls, toilets and shower stalls. But I was so delighted I didn’t care. I had to sneak paper towels from the Bard and clean up my mess before I was discovered.

The next morning was partly sunny and we took the opportunity to walk along nearby St Margaret’s beach before turning for home. In Ireland, there are beaches to be found all along the coasts and you’re never far away from a coast, at least by American standards. I doubt I’ll ever swim in the frigid waters (like some ladies we saw) but I sure like a beach.

Kilmogue Portal Tomb

On the way home we found a gem of a megalith, Kilmogue Portal Tomb. Portal tombs, sometimes called dolmens, are built with two large upright stones forming the entrance (or portal) to a single chamber behind. It was originally all covered in a pile of loose rocks (a cairn) with just the capstone visible. Believed to be about 6000 years old, Cill Mhóg (church of Móg), has never been excavated. I wonder what ancient goodies are hiding beneath the surface among the giant stones. And who the heck was Móg???

K

After frolicking on the tomb (I have no shame), we made our way back west for a short stop at the Kilkieran and Ahenny high crosses. High crosses were erected in early monasteries mostly in the 8th and 9th centuries probably as boundary markers or monuments of political power. Who knows what they were thinking back then? They probably weren’t grave markers, but cemeteries have grown up around them and they blend in with other Celtic crosses.

High crosses are… well, high. And they have really detailed and sometimes ornate carvings. The ones we saw were very worn and it was hard to make out the designs, but they were very cool nonetheless.

 We again stopped in New Ross in front of the Dunbrody Famine Ship (see earlier post) but instead of eating in the Bard, this time we went into a nice restaurant overlooking the ship and indulged in supersized, sumptuous, traditional Irish dinners. Again, the irony was not lost on us.

This weekend we’re going back to Kinvara on the west coast for the Fleadh na gCuach, the Cuckoo Festival. We go every year but this will be the first time in the AvantBard. Hope we find a place to park up and stay warm and dry. I’ll let you know. Thanks for reading, nerd friends!