Graiguenamanagh

Two weeks ago we were raring to go again. Now that the sun is nudging its way into the wee hours of the morning we are more anxious than ever to explore new places and find some right adventures. (In Ireland, “right” means good or great. I first heard it when someone said, “Those are right lads” in describing a group of teenagers.)

We have mostly been set on wild camping and can easily endure a few nights in the wilderness although there is very little wilderness in Ireland. You’ve noticed it isn’t featured on any survival reality shows.

 

But we had heard rumors of a motorhome site called the Barrow Valley Activities Hub (or “The Hub” for short) that campers were raving about. An “activities hub” did not sound like what we were looking for in a camping experience, but it was just over an hour away, and we thought maybe we should see just what all the “hubbub” was about. We could then check it off our list of places never to return to.

It was with this sense of impending disappointment that I clumsily knocked my phone into the toilet as I was packing my things. Now I was really losing my enthusiasm for the trip. I was thinking, let’s just get this over with.

No site complete without a castle

 

The Hub is on the banks of the river Barrow just at the edge of the small town of Graiguenamanagh (graig-nah-manna in English and I don’t recommend you try to say it in Irish). We
found it is indeed a hub for nearby swimming, boating, kayaking, fishing, hiking, history indulging and dining. A right little spot!

Since it was Monday, it wasn’t crowded but we were told you have to book way in advance for a pitch on the weekend. I was delighted to have an electric hookup for the luxuries of the microwave and hair
dryer.

 

After we got settled we strolled the two minutes into town to have a look. We were no sooner on the main street than we heard the faint sound of a choir from somewhere indistinct. 13th century Duiske (meaning black water) Abbey, at the center of town, seems to hover over and cradle the surrounding shops like a giant protective beast from middle earth. We read that it was the largest Cistercian abbey in Ireland. The church is still intact and in use, while the other medieval remains radiate through the town like fossilized tentacles, mostly taking the shape of fragmented walls here and there.

Duiske Abbey from the back 

As we neared the angelic voices, they began to sound less like heavenly choristers and more like a boisterous band of inebriated crooners.

 

Wait….aren’t they singing Wild Mountain Thyme??? We entered Doyle’s pub in front of the church and were instantly assimilated into a circle of robust revelers with lifted pints. A friendly nod indicated we should join right in… which I did but Dixie was reluctant. When the last strains of “Will ye go lassie go” ended, we were told this was the “afters" of a funeral.

Inside Doyle's

I

Should have guessed. It’s not uncommon for friends and family to gather at the favorite “local” of the deceased and celebrate a life well lived (or not) with whiskey and song. We offered our sincere condolences, apologized for intruding and went on our way…. but not until we were told that there is a trad session held in the pub the last Monday of every month. Dang, we were just one week too early! 

The pub was a real charmer, with one side being a hardware/staples store and the other side a bar. This is the traditional layout of an Irish pub and there are few left in the country. We came back in the evening and, though the "afters" were ongoing, we enjoyed a couple of pints.

Inside Doyle's, store and pub

Back at the campsite we relaxed, had some late lunch and met the neighbors. Throughout our two days we met the nicest people ever. Right folks! Several were newbies like us and we shared stories and insights and personal aspirations.

 

I was especially touched by one woman who began by talking about buying the camper, but became more open as the conversation went on and the men walked away. She was fearful of becoming invisible to her children and grandchildren as she aged. It felt good to be a stranger’s confidant if but for a few moments. I knew there was much more to her story and I wished we could have spent more time together. I hope our paths will cross again.

I want to live in this house please.

There’s a section of the Columban Way hiking circuit along the edges of Graiguenamanagh right beside the river and we found ourselves walking along it throughout the day. The weather was spectacular and the scenery was stunning and private. 

There is a series of weirs and locks (I learned about weirs and locks) on the path between Graiguenamanagh and St Mullins, five miles away. We walked halfway there (where we were told there was a fabulous cafe by the river) but then turned back, because I knew I’d be “knackered” if I tried to walk the whole way and back.

Lock keeper's house

In Graiguenamanagh we found three historic, attractive little pubs that we loved and a nice cafe on the waterfront. There were three river walks as well as a scenic, refreshing woodland path. Between the eating, drinking, socializing and exploring, it was a right two days. We said we’d come back.

And we did! The next Monday! Knowing there would be a trad session at Doyle’s, and armed with the fiddle and the guitar, we decided to spend another relaxing couple of days at the Hub. When we arrived we went straight to the pub to find out what time the music would begin.

“Oh sorry, the music session has been cancelled tonight. There’s a funeral.” Wuuut???!!!