Stardate: 15 May 2019 - When too many ruins are barely enough

Today we carted ourselves to Clonmacnoise - originally a 6th century monastery founded by St Ciaran that was expanded over 600 years.

But just before arriving there we saw this sad beauty precariously hanging off a precipice near the River Shannon.  This was an Anglo-Norman castle built in the 13th century.   

We had hoped that we would largely have Clanmacnoise to ourselves as it's pretty hard to get to and while it's in our handy Time Team book, we haven't seen it in any tourist brochures.

Alas, two busloads of Europeans had arrived moments before us and were milling around the entrance making entry for us difficult.  Then we finally got outside to the roons just in time for them all to light the first of several Stuyvos whose smoke and aroma they kindly shared with us.  Eventually we were shot of them and then three more buses arrived, full of Hals and Barbs from Minnesota.  Hal and Barb X 100 then elbowed us out of the way so they could get first dibs on seats in the theaterette for a 20 minute video.  I do think it's incumbent on tourists to behave with a bit of decorum as Mr Pants and I do when we visit ancient monuments. A cattle prod would have been handy today.

12th century Temple Finghin

Sadly St Ciaran carked it only a matter of months after establishing Clonmacnoise but the monastery thrived between the 9th and 12th centuries and became a centre of learning, architecture and artistry.

Nothing survives from St Ciaran's time as buildings were then made of timber.  Most of the remaining ruins are 11th and 12th century.

From about 1000 AD onwards the site was attacked variously by locals, the Danes and the Anglo-Normans after which the monks said yeah, nah, it's all yours.  The final coup de grace was delivered by the English in the mid-1500s - they destroyed most of what was left during the dissolution of the monasteries. 

Cow custodians of Clonmacnoise

Shortly handing over to Mr P.  His driving skills this arvo on death-defying lanes and goat tracks en route to another ruin -  Clonfert  Cathedral - are worthy of thunderous applause.  I would also mention that today I was boss of the camera for the first time and all these pics were taken by me.  Normally I'm only allowed to take pics of Geoff sinking a schooner of Pigs Arse Pilsener at the local Slug and Lettuce.  😊

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Final Clonmacnoise photo.  It's quite beautiful but, as Anne says, it's obviously well and truly on the tour bus circuit.  If you happened to luck out by being there more or less on your own, it would be an outstanding day out.

You can see part of the River Shannon in the background.  It so happens that in our meanderings today we crossed the river several times.  

The closest town to Clonmacnoise is Shannonbridge, which we correctly predicted is named because it features a bridge across the river (nothing gets past us).  Not only were we right, but we managed to find a pub right on the water where an excellent seafood and potato chowder was on offer for lunch.  This was the view from our table.  Excellent!

From there, it was on to Clonfert, which mercifully is a far less touristed attraction.  The site was originally a monastery founded around 560 by St Brendan the Navigator.  It's thought that he set out on a legendary journey on the Atlantic Ocean and some think that he discovered the Americas about 800 years before Columbus.  And who can argue?  

Anyway, the oldest part of the existing church is this Romanesque doorway, from the late 12th century.  The bloke in the photo isn't quite that old but sometimes feels like it.

It's also featured in the Time Team book, but fortunately for us the tour bus operators haven't read this part of it, because we had the joint to ourselves.

Near the church there's signage to the Nun's Walk and St Brendan's tree, and a very pleasant walk it is too.  We just walked for about half an hour, but never found where it headed, if anywhere.  Doesn't matter, as you'll surely agree based on the photo.

This is St Brendan's tree.  It's hard to miss, because it's the one festooned with religious paraphernalia.  And also with what looked to us like just plain junk, like an asthma inhaler.  Maybe the owner thought that making an offering to St Brendan would cure them of asthma?

A nice day out, where we were directed by the satnav along numerous secondary roads, which ranged in quality from maybe-just-barely-navigable to downright diabolical.  Still, we wouldn't have found our way without it, so it earned its keep today.  Oh, and I'm sure you're all wondering why the names of so many places in these parts start with 'Clon'.  It's because it means community.  Of course!