Ancient, hallowed grounds

Ireland: today is monuments day. I plan to track down Tara. After that, well there are options. Curiously enough, when I asked the Irish people here where it was, they confessed they didn't know and had never seen it. This, the Heart of Ireland, the Ancient Seat of Irish Kings! I was appalled.

I took off anyway – typically, in the wrong direction. I pulled over at Summerhill, posted a post card and checked the map. Low and behold, there Tara was marked along with Newgrange, a Neolithic burial site. Actually finding it proved more difficult than the map suggested. The lanes are narrow and unmarked. Eventually, I pulled over again, took a couple of photos of a ruined abbey and asked a man walking his dog for directions.

The Stone of Destiny, Tara.

"Left, then right, then left, then right. You can't miss it." He said. And he was right. I came over the hill and the carpark was right there. I had driven the back route to Tara. The wind was rising, but I walked up and all over the grass covered mounds, snapping photos of the surrounding areas and of the monument. I managed to take the photos without the church in them. To me, the church represents and insult to the seat of the Irish kings, a monument to cruelty and generations of abuse and oppression perpetrated on the Irish people.

At the visitor's store, the attendant pointed me to Newgrange, gave me a map. Postcards in pocket, map in hand, off I went. The directions were clear and twenty-five minutes later, just as she said, I pulled into the carpark of Newgrange.

While I would have been happy to see just this monument, there was a two for one including Knowth, the largest Neolithic burial mound/village in Europe. Both monuments were fascinating, cleverly built and reeked of antiquity – even in the chilly gale force winds.

I climbed to the top of Knowth and studied the surrounding countryside. You can see the trees that hide Tara in one direction, and in an almost straight line through Knowth to the ridge beyond, the hill St Patrick allegedly climbed to light the Solstice fire days before the event, thus desecrating the Druids’ sacred ground and beginning the end to pagan ways in Ireland. You can also see the River Boyne, where William of Orange defeated the Catholics. An event still celebrated by the Marching Season.

At Newgrange, I stood in the bitter wind and waited to go inside. It’s cramped and narrow inside. The tour guide broke our group into two, sent one group around the site, and set us to await the malingerers. I tell you, the colder it got, the longer the group before us took to come out. In the end, our tour guide must have felt the chill too because she got them out in a hurry.

The entrance to Newgrange. The Solstice sunrise come3s through the top hole. Inside, you walk up a slight incline, thus, you can't see the sun through the bottom entrance.

Once inside, it’s amazing. Again, no photos allowed, but my hands twitched around the camera.

The tour guide turned off the lights and it was as if blind. Then, she demonstrated what the interior would be like at sunrise on Solstice with a dull red light. We all watched the light creep down the centre of the tunnel. A remarkable achievement by the Neoliths to get the line of light absolutely right.

Chilled to the bone and tired, I made my way back to the hostel via the N2 without the benefit of the map. I only had to go around the block once to get to the carpark. Sometimes, things just work.

As I promised myself, I had a hotdog. Not that special, but it meant I didn't need to take any more money out. Tomorrow is the 'last' day I can take the money, some for the day, some for Wednesday and some for duty free.

I've a plan for three things tomorrow: The Book of Kells at Trinity College - which isn't far from here - the Guinness Tour and the Jameson Whisky tour – that should do me for tours, and then go to tourist store just around the corner from here for some cheap Irish souvenirs.