ryaner

I was working away in town in the sunshine, fairly bored by the struggle of the daily grind. On the spur of the moment I decided to head for the hills. Recently, on a spin around Kilbride rifle range, I’d noticed a second track up the western side of Seahan that I’d never noticed before. It had been covered under the dense pine plantation, but this had been cut about 2 years ago, and this second track was more direct and made the tombs more accessible.

As I drove along the N81 Tallaght by-pass I could see the sun shining on my destination from the road, directly south from the M50 junction at Balrothery. Further on, at ‘New’ Bancroft, the skeletons of unfinished apartment blocks taunt the traveller with their dreams of rich celtic tiger days gone by. Left at Old Bawn Road, right at Bohernabreena Road (past the avenue I live on) and on up to the Ballinascorney Gap – this is rural Dublin, and a further left turn at the top of the gap up towards the rifle range and in minutes you could believe that the city doesn’t exist, blocked from view by the ridge of Slievebawnogue, Ballymorefinn, Seahan itself and Corrig.

The track is situated just below the crest of the road as the view opens out across Kilbride rifle range towards Seefin. It goes directly east up the hill for about 500 metres, then veers to the right and skirts along the edge of the range, outside the tree-line and up, steeper here, until it reaches the moorland above the trees, and then continues across to the peak and the tombs. Seefin and Seefingan cairns have the same shape and profile from this track and you do get a sense that you are approaching the heavens, being lifted up and out, above the mundane, and into the realm of the gods.

Utterly unfit for this type of trek that I am, I struggled on the climb, yet I couldn’t but be awed by the stunning views – the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. North of Seefin passage tomb there is a ravine, a deep gouge high up on the spur between it and Seefingan, hard to believe that it’s not even a 10 minute drive from my house. Lumps of quartz litter the track and you must traverse the inside edge of the rifle range. Up here you are in a special area of conservation, but try tell that to the scramblers and mountain bikers, but maybe they have the sought for licences.

Then it’s the last bit of the trek, up the path to the tombs. It’s late now, and only an hour ago I was in the centre of Dublin city and as I reach the peak I get a dose of the jitters, the car left down on the road, predators real and imagined roaming these parts looking for an easy touch. I’ve done this hundreds of times before and nothing has ever happened, so far.

From here, on a good clear day, you can see the Cooleys and the Mournes and to their west the hills of South Armagh – of course Howth and Lambay are prominent here. The whole of the bay is mostly visible, Two Rock, Three Rock, Little Sugar Loaf, Great Sugar Loaf, over to Kippure, Seefingan, Seefin, Sorrel Hill and deeper into the Wicklows, down to the reservoir and over to the Kilteel ridge, Slievethoul and finally back down towards Knockannavinidee and Tallaght Hill and Ballymorefinn, and even closer in across to Piperstown and Montpellier. The city is there too all across the Dublin plain.

And then there’s the tombs, 2 or 3 passage graves and an un-open cairn. The main tomb is wrecked, a small chamber still covered by a roofstone, scant evidence of a passage and some kerbstones on its southern flank. West of it is the cairn, messed about with on its western side, all loose stones long since robbed or embedded in the rising turf. Slightly north-west of the passage tomb is a small arrangement of stones that was noticed by Tom Fourwinds a few years back, a diminutive passage grave rather like one of the satellite tombs at Knowth. Then south of the larger tombs, another sad collection of stones that mark the wreckage of another satellite tomb.

And all the while I’m here, my attention is pulled continually towards the two tombs on Seefingan and Seefin, like big brothers (or sisters) watching over Seahan and I wonder, with so much else on the list, will I ever return here. You can’t help but notice the erosion that this windswept location suffers – that, and what with the use and abuse of the area by humanity, the place has a battered look. But still it is achingly beautiful, a cemetery of the ancestors, an outpost of peace and solitude with it own views back down to the madness.

About 400 metres North of the town of Donard is Hell Kettle Bridge, fording Brown’s Beck Brook. Another 100 metres north of that is Doll’s Brook, a stream that rises on the southern spine of Church mountain. Slightly north of this, and almost beside the road, is this cup-marked stone. It lies at the southern edge of 2 almost conjoined raths. The southern rath is in better condition but is very overgrown. The defensive ditches of this rath are very visible on its northern side – defences on the southern side where the stone is are the steepness of of the hillock that the rath is built upon.

A very charming place on mid-summer’s day, the late evening sunshine brought out the 20 or so cup-marks perfectly. The grass hadn’t been cut in the meadow and the bubbling of Doll’s brook below added to the atmosphere. The cairn on top of Church mountain is visible from the bridge over the brook.

I’m in love with this stone. It’s hard to be near it and not drop by to see how it’s doing. Its beauty never ceases to amaze me. I like it when the basins have water in them, and I like it when they’re empty. It is a piece of sculpted perfection. The meadow that it lies in is gorgeous too, sumptuous and pleasing with its wild grassiness in summer. The last few times I’ve been here I’ve been accompanied by LM, and once by Paulie G. Both are only half interested.

The flat-topped stone seems to have grown out of the ground to the east, and then drops off by about a foot on the western side. It’s oriented on its longer axis roughly north-south. The four largest basins are concentrated in the southern end – the other two are towards the north-western end, one of which breaks the side of the stone, the other being the smallest and almost like an afterthought.

I get the sense that I’m possibly the only person in the country that comes here, dragging my half interested companions along to satisfy my selfish needs. I’d unearth this stone and bring it home if I could. Almost.

Poor old Broomfields portal tomb – ruined, neglected, overgrown and overlooked. The capstone has fallen and leans over the chamber, on top of one of the portals. The other portal is still upright and there’s a backstone standing, but you’d never tell in the summer as the whole thing is more or less hidden under the vegetation. It’s incorporated in a boundary fence down a well laid farm track, but access is better from the field to the west where you can at least appreciate the quite massive capstone. If you’re looking for atmosphere however, you probably won’t get it here – there’s so very little to be seen amidst the tangle of vegetation and now there’s even trees growing between the stones. Some remedial work is desperately needed at this sad site. I’d be up for it if given permission.

On a misty day, myself and LM ventured up Tallaght Hill to Ballymana and this anomalous site. Said by some to be a stone circle, there is indeed a circle of stones, but they surround a messy oval mound that’s covered in gorse and hard to make out. A fine misty rain was falling and visibility was poor and we were unable to stick around.

The stones that surround the ‘cairn’ are varied in size, shape and type. I tried in vain to take a shot that shows them all. The ‘cairn’ itself is all rubble and vegetation and could be modern field clearance, though why so as this is sheep-farming land and not quality pasture, with many boggy, turlough-type ponds. I reckon that this site bears further exploration, maybe soon and quite likely as it’s only up the road.

Two standing stones, very similar in height and profile, stand about 400 metres from each other. The first, nearest to the road, is a charmer, in a small fenced in, sloping meadow with pathways through the wildflowers and grasses. It’s about 1.3 metres tall and square in profile, tapering towards the top. The second, slightly taller and more rectangular than square, is in a large pasture field, with views, like its neighbour, mainly to the east towards Dowery Hill and further across to Seefin and Seefingan. A curious pair, though not a stone pair as they are not inter-visible.