Further Adventures

Having said our goodbyes to Jack Bergin and his wife, Bernie, Andy and I left Perry’s Well and set off for Graystown Castle, to be found in the Clashawley River valley. As we drove along, I read aloud from our brochure that the castle is in a hazardous state, poses a risk to anyone entering the premises and should only be viewed from the public road. Andy and I looked at each other and practically in unison spouted, “Feck that!” We're both much too curious and mischievous for our own good. 

The castle was easy to spot on a large outcrop of limestone rock. It was a stunning example of 16th century architecture gone bad, as it was completely in ruins. And we immediately saw why the warnings were issued. There were deep cracks in the walls and we spied a few stones that were about to go and bring down the entire castle with them. The once spiral stone staircase had deteriorated into a pile of rubble.

Not to be deterred, we (very carefully, I promise) explored the castle and surrounding area. There is a major wall left of a mansion house there and signs of other structures long since crumbled away. They say there were at least eight houses and three enclosures on the property in medieval times. The development as a whole dates back to the 12th century and may have been partly monastic.

What's left of the spiral staircase

Castle views are always stunning

From the castle, we had another major treasure hunt. We wanted to find the Hill of Bones. We knew it to be a bronze age burial ground (2500-500 BC) and supposedly some Norman soldiers were also buried here after a local skirmish. Nearby erosion has resulted in the exposure of …… yes, BONES! And sickness and bad luck is said to follow anyone who interferes with the hill.

Our brochure placed the hill in the Clashawley River valley 2 km south of the castle. But the entire valley was dotted with little hills and mounds among the clumps of trees and shrubs set into the fields of cattle. How could we possibly know which was our woeful hill? We knocked on a door in the area and asked and were told it was just down the road. That did us no good.

Photo from the brochure

Then it dawned on me. Our brochure, while being pretty worthless in its description of a location, contained one photo. It was the picture of a small tree, leafless, with a couple of somethings (we couldn’t tell what) just to the right of the trunk. The hill was behind it. I told Andy if we could find that tree, we’d have our hill.

He looked at me skeptically, but had to agree. We turned the car around and headed back north to find a higher road over the valley where we could get a wider view. We knew this was a long shot and the things next to the tree were probably just fallen limbs that would be long since gone. Still, this was our only chance.

Found it!

And by now you’re probably guessing the rest of the story. There it was in the distance. Only it was in full leaf, but the somethings were there on the ground to the right and the trunk was very distinctive.

We drove back around to the lower road, down a boreen and parked. We had to cross two electric fences, but we made it. The tree stood alone, a noble guardian of the hill, greeting (and perhaps warning) curious visitors that this was a sacred place. There were small, flat boulders underneath that looked like seats for rest and meditation. The burial mound was directly behind it, just like in the photo.

No, we didn’t disturb anything. I might chance to climb through crumbling castle ruins, but I’m no fool. I would NOT risk disturbing any part of the Hill of Bones. (Although I did eat some wild blackberries. Do you think that counts?)