Finding Perry's Well

I have less than two weeks left on my beloved emerald island. So when my friend, Andy, suggested a few days ago that we pick up where we left off on the Derrynaflan Trail, I was ready. 

As you may recall from an earlier post (click on July under Archive in the right margin and scroll down to Sunday), the trail covers several local points of historical interest... many in ruins, all intriguing. The brochure we’re using gives brief descriptions and general locations, but NOTHING specific… certainly no addresses. You’re on your own and good luck! 

We were mostly successful on our last venture but could not find a place called Perry’s Well which was supposedly in a farmer’s field. Legend has it that it was once located on Church Hill, where we explored earlier, but someone washed their sheep in it and the next day it was moved. (?) But moved to where? This was a mystery. 

The well has been a site of pilgrimage for over a hundred years and is reputed to have curative properties. So today, that was our first goal… to locate the well and cure what ails us. 

Andy had asked around about it and was told to contact a man named Jack Bergin who lives in the area where we had searched before. Pretty vague information. So we drove to the area and saw a farmer and his wife painting a fence. We pulled in and asked if he knew one Jack Bergin. This Is Ireland… so of course this farmer WAS Jack Bergin. It just always works out this way (Call it the luck of the American in Ireland).

Out through the field we went

As it happens, he bought this land from the Perrys about 40 years ago and the well is in his field. He seemed delighted that we were inquiring and immediately left the painting to the missus and told us to put on our Wellies. Unfortunately, I had not anticipated more mud and slosh so I was Wellyless. But This Is Ireland… so of course Andy had Wellies in the boot that would be just right (okay, a little big but who’s complaining?)

Off we went, following Jack through a gate and into a giant expanse of soggy green field and cow manure. At the edge of the field, the landscape became a mass of tall weeds choked by thick strands of briars and overgrown brush. Jack explained that no one had been to the well in at least two years and he had been remiss in keeping it clear. He seemed embarrassed and a little apologetic. I, on the other hand, was suppressing an enormous “WOOHOO!” that had been ‘well’ing up in my throat. I was feeling seriously triumphant.

The well is in here somewhere!

He hacked a path for us a few yards in, and then it emerged. A little stone structure with still, clear water as its floor. He explained the water level neither rose nor sank with the rain nor the seasons. No one knows how long it has existed, but an ancient pilgrim path goes past here, so who knows? There were stone (or cement?) benches on either side where pilgrims could sit and rest their feet in the soothing water. 

As I always do, I imagined my ancestors (and yours) passing this way on their journey to find answers or meaning or relief or … I really don’t know what. But I walk alongside them as a fellow seeker on a quest to affirm my place here, and maybe slough off a thin layer of burden that seems to relentlessly press us down. 

There was a stepping stone at the entrance which seemed to serve as a welcome mat. As we were stooping in, Jack told us stories of supposed healings associated with the well… even a cow that was at death’s door was resurrected. We took a few minutes to admire the vaulted ceiling and the one tiny window that mimicked soft candle light on the far wall. As we left, I dipped my hand in the water and anointed myself on the head. Couldn’t hurt, right? 

We were ready to leave but This Is Ireland. The farmer’s wife was expecting us for tea so of course we obliged. She gave us a copy of a news article on the well from a few years ago. Apparently the stone at the entrance, which was caked with mud and algae and seemed completely nondescript, has a carving of a pieta on it and was at one time a source of national interest. GEEEEE! I wish I had known that BEFORE we left the well. 

Tea time at the Bergin's

Around the table I was treated to stories of the neighborhood and because This Is Ireland, it wasn’t long before Andy and Jack had established they had mutual friends and maybe even relatives. Heck, they may be long lost brothers!

We left headed for Graystown Castle and to seek out the elusive Hill of Bones. You won’t believe how we found it. Stay tuned.