The Burren

the Burren

We were driving from the Cliffs of Moher through typically Irish, rolling, green pastureland on our way to our next stay in Galway when we came across this. Are we still in Ireland? What sort of geological mash-up is this?

the Burren, up close

This is the Burren (in Irish, Boireann or “great rock”) Great rock, indeed. Weird rock, as well. The limestone “pavement” has been eroded into large rectangles, or clints, with long, narrow fissures, called grikes, between them where the softer rock has eroded away. So weird that the rock eroded along gridlines!

clints (blocks) and grikes (grooves)

Today we hiked in Burren National Park, our third of six national parks in the Republic of Ireland. I had to get out in it and see it up close. We chose a short loop-walk to the monastic site of St. Cronan. And guess what I discovered there. My first holy well!  St. Cronan’s Well. Who knew?

Sure enough, there was a shrine to St. Cronan next to the well and faded strips of cloth hanging from tree branches overhead. [Serendipity] I felt like I had just won a scavenger hunt I hadn’t realized I was playing. Now I understand one reason people go in search of the wells; they’re spiritual geocaches. The thrill of the hunt may be what gets people out there, but it’s even more fun finding something you didn’t know was out there to find!

In the 17th century, English Parliamentarian Edmund Ludlow, who served under Oliver Cromwell in Ireland, observed that the Burren “is a country where there is not enough water to drown a man, wood enough to hang one, nor earth enough to bury him…… and yet their cattle are very fat; for the grass growing in turfs of earth, of two or three foot square, that lie between the rocks, which are of limestone, is very sweet and nourishing.”

in the grike

He is absolutely right. Rainfall disappears quickly into the grikes between the clints and makes its way into the limestone aquifers below. There is essentially no soil on the limestone pavement for living organisms to establish themselves. What grass and trees there are grow in small plots of soil between the clints, yet the grikes themselves are a haven for all manner of tiny plants from Mediterranean to alpine to arctic in habitat, all living side-by-side. They are miniature, terrarium-like ravines in a network of barren rock; I could explore them all day. 

Very interesting terrain. Not at all what I expected. This, my friends, is exactly the reason I travel.

Serendipity

in the village of Adare

Our last day in County Limerick and the sun was glorious. The most beautiful spot in Limerick to be outdoors on such a fine day? The village of Adare, hands down.

Adare, acknowledged by many as the prettiest village in Ireland, was directly on our path from our last Airbnb on the Dingle Peninsula to the one we’re in now, outside of Limerick. I had intended to stop in transit and spend the day. I have vague memories as we drove through of people sitting outside at sidewalk cafes having lots more fun than I was having hunkered down in the passenger seat of the car clutching my barf bag. “Do you want to stop?” Marcus asked. “Mmph,” I replied. We drove on.

St. Nicholas Church

Remember that blog about backtracking if you can? [Backtracking in the Wicklow Mountains] So, four days later, back we went.

Do you ever have those serendipitous moments when everything just seems to align? Well, our return to Adare was one of those. The main street was quite congested when we arrived, and we had to circle through town twice before the perfect parking space appeared right before our eyes. As I got out of the car, I looked up to see a wee craft shop with some children’s toys out front. The chance of it offering anything I would want to buy was slim, but there was something about the way my car door opened right onto the path to the shop and the crumbling, white-washed wall beside it with little purple flowers growing out of its crevices….

The shop was a cooperative run by the artists whose wares were featured. I love that! Let’s just say I found a few things I wanted to buy, but I also had the most captivating conversation with Keri, the artist on duty that day. She is a potter who makes little bottles used to collect water from holy wells. [Irelands Sacred Water]

We’ve seen signs for these holy wells all over Ireland—hundreds of them—natural springs that were discovered in pre-Christian days and used as sites for pagan rituals. St. Patrick, who brought Christianity to Ireland, was smart to incorporate them into the new religion. Rather than condemning them as pagan clap-trap, he ordained them as holy wells, thereby engaging more pagan converts.

For centuries travelers have sought out holy wells for healing purposes. Not only do they drink and collect the waters, but many soak a piece of cloth in them and tie the cloth on an inflicted part of their body. Before leaving the well, they tie the cloth to an overhanging tree branch. As the rag decomposes in the elements, the infliction ostensibly dissipates. 

I love the folklore, and I love that the Irish can make room in their hearts for their ancient past while respecting their current religious foundations. They have an incredible heritage. Perhaps this is the reason I was brought here today.