Nothing to see in County Limerick
There is a widely held belief that County Limerick is a kind of Irish Holland – flat, uninteresting and basically serving to keep Kerry and Clare separated. Not so. County Limerick is a place to be appreciated subtly, like the better sort of wine. Just consider one typical journey, from Newcastlewest to Limerick on a Spring morning, and what you might see.
Leaving Newcastlewest, there’s two guys walking their greyhounds and ‘clearing’ them, before their trials on the track at the top of the hill. Next we see the crooked tree, used as a hanging tree in the bad old days. The County Council re-aligned the road in the 1970’s to take away a tight bend, leaving the tree in the island between the line of the old road and the new. There’s some tacky landscaping on the island, but the majesty of the old tree overcomes it.
A little bit further on, there’s Charlie feeding his horses a bit of hay from the back of the car. Wonder if Ballygowan Beauty is one of them?
On the left is John G’s big cornfield – and there’s a fine cock pheasant picking the field. Must come back for him at the weekend.
There’s Frankie Torrens walking around his cottage in his string vest with a mug of tea – a gentle giant, and a legendary truck driver in his time. Frankie used to drive his truck with two trailers up Bridge Street in Newcastlewest, and manage the two tight left-handers at the top, up on the footpaths outside Burke’s chipper. The amusements were an anti-climax after the spectacle of Frankie getting his wagons into the Square. He still has his old Diamond-T trucks at the back of the house, fair play to him.
On to Coolanoran, and glance right to see if the escaped deer can be seen. Look left, to the field where the green plover always wheel and land – there are only three fields in the locality where they will feed – it’s supposed to be a sign of liver fluke larvae being present. The plover eat the larvae, and that’s why they are preserved against shooting. If there has been rain, the fields further down will be flooded – maybe a flock of swans touched down overnight and may be seen feeding on drowned earthworms in the ponds. Maybe some teal will roost in the drains, if the wind has been high and the tide in down on the Estuary, there might be a mallard in amongst them – a great challenge for a shooter to pick out the one mallard amongst thirty or so teal. Away over on the right is Keating’s Castle, where Mackessy shot wild geese long ago – once in a blue moon a skein of them still head out there, whatever old and ancient instinct drives them.
Down the Rathkeale by-pass, and there’s John Flynn ploughing Paddy Bouchier’s field. The best ploughman in the County, in one of the best fields in the County. Check under the high trees for another pheasant, perhaps.
There’s the four spikes of the Protestant Church now showing above Mount Southwell, and shortly the single spire of the Catholic church dominates the whole landscape around it. Glance up towards the Hill, not many of the boys around now, but there was a big crowd last Christmas. Look left to see Paddy Sheridan’s fine herd of horses grazing in his field, and there’s Paddy’s Michael at the gate checking them.
Down into the Dohyle Hollow, over on the left is morning mist rising off the lake, the road ditch is another great place for a pheasant. Check for the white squad, three spots here that they like, keep a sharp lookout. On down the straight stretch, speed getting a bit high - maybe eighty-five or so, watch the sign at the bottom for any furtive movements, might be a ban garda lurking behind it with the car out of sight.
There’s the big ringfort on the left, right on the edge of the by-pass. Over on the right, the sun is just peeping over Knock Feirna, silhouetting the big elms and beeches in Captain Fitzgerald’s.
Down past Smithfield, there’s one of the oaks blown over in a winter storm, Jimmy is out now with his Land Rover sawing it into lengths for the mill – too good for firewood by far. On down to Graigue, and there’s Pat coming back from an early shot with his dogs, looks like a pheasant and two woodcock in his hand, gun broken on his arm so he must have used his side-by-side and he’ll be pleased with that bag.
Down the main street of Adare, couple of scrawny-looking Krauts mooching about, pop in for a haircut if there’s time, or even a full Irish in the visitor centre.
There’s John Shovlin at the door of the Hotel, missing nothing that passes. A tall young lad with his barefoot girl linking arms stroll down the street towards the Hotel in evening wear, she’s dangling her high-heeled shoes from her free hand, must have been a good bash in the hotel last night.
There’s Mikey in his jeep puffing his pipe and blathering into his two Portugal phones, heading for the park with a lawnmower up behind him on his trailer, loads of lights flashing and all business.
Out over the bridge, look left to see the egret at low tide, one of the few benefits of global warming. Speaking of benefits, look right to see the Desmond Castle OPW restoration – did they lay a stone this week yet?
On down to the Lantern Lodge, there’s Hourigan’s ‘box swinging left for the roundabout, there’s racing in Leopardstown today, maybe Beef Or Salmon is on board. Pass Mrs Clarke’s, beautiful flock of well-tended sheep grazing peacefully in their paddocks. Dead fox on the roadside, he must have been crossing from the Dunraven farm passage, and got killed overnight.
Under the Mount Earl overpass, and there’s Mattie McGuire’s magnificent bane of pedigree Charolais’ grazing on his farm on the right, a wonderful sight.
Here’s the blue squad minding the money wagon on a Tuesday morning, it doesn’t matter if you’re on your phone, they can’t break away from the convoy.
On down to the new bypass, really picking up speed now. Watch all the Cork fellas overshooting the up-ramp on their side and getting lost. Getting a bit too fast for looking around, but the odd kestrel hunting the roadside margins and the central median always delights. Check for the Federales under the three-phase power lines crossing below Patrickswell. Shoot up the off-ramp, and we’re there.
What else can the day offer?
Nuts.
Leaving Newcastlewest, there’s two guys walking their greyhounds and ‘clearing’ them, before their trials on the track at the top of the hill. Next we see the crooked tree, used as a hanging tree in the bad old days. The County Council re-aligned the road in the 1970’s to take away a tight bend, leaving the tree in the island between the line of the old road and the new. There’s some tacky landscaping on the island, but the majesty of the old tree overcomes it.
A little bit further on, there’s Charlie feeding his horses a bit of hay from the back of the car. Wonder if Ballygowan Beauty is one of them?
On the left is John G’s big cornfield – and there’s a fine cock pheasant picking the field. Must come back for him at the weekend.
There’s Frankie Torrens walking around his cottage in his string vest with a mug of tea – a gentle giant, and a legendary truck driver in his time. Frankie used to drive his truck with two trailers up Bridge Street in Newcastlewest, and manage the two tight left-handers at the top, up on the footpaths outside Burke’s chipper. The amusements were an anti-climax after the spectacle of Frankie getting his wagons into the Square. He still has his old Diamond-T trucks at the back of the house, fair play to him.
On to Coolanoran, and glance right to see if the escaped deer can be seen. Look left, to the field where the green plover always wheel and land – there are only three fields in the locality where they will feed – it’s supposed to be a sign of liver fluke larvae being present. The plover eat the larvae, and that’s why they are preserved against shooting. If there has been rain, the fields further down will be flooded – maybe a flock of swans touched down overnight and may be seen feeding on drowned earthworms in the ponds. Maybe some teal will roost in the drains, if the wind has been high and the tide in down on the Estuary, there might be a mallard in amongst them – a great challenge for a shooter to pick out the one mallard amongst thirty or so teal. Away over on the right is Keating’s Castle, where Mackessy shot wild geese long ago – once in a blue moon a skein of them still head out there, whatever old and ancient instinct drives them.
Down the Rathkeale by-pass, and there’s John Flynn ploughing Paddy Bouchier’s field. The best ploughman in the County, in one of the best fields in the County. Check under the high trees for another pheasant, perhaps.
There’s the four spikes of the Protestant Church now showing above Mount Southwell, and shortly the single spire of the Catholic church dominates the whole landscape around it. Glance up towards the Hill, not many of the boys around now, but there was a big crowd last Christmas. Look left to see Paddy Sheridan’s fine herd of horses grazing in his field, and there’s Paddy’s Michael at the gate checking them.
Down into the Dohyle Hollow, over on the left is morning mist rising off the lake, the road ditch is another great place for a pheasant. Check for the white squad, three spots here that they like, keep a sharp lookout. On down the straight stretch, speed getting a bit high - maybe eighty-five or so, watch the sign at the bottom for any furtive movements, might be a ban garda lurking behind it with the car out of sight.
There’s the big ringfort on the left, right on the edge of the by-pass. Over on the right, the sun is just peeping over Knock Feirna, silhouetting the big elms and beeches in Captain Fitzgerald’s.
Down past Smithfield, there’s one of the oaks blown over in a winter storm, Jimmy is out now with his Land Rover sawing it into lengths for the mill – too good for firewood by far. On down to Graigue, and there’s Pat coming back from an early shot with his dogs, looks like a pheasant and two woodcock in his hand, gun broken on his arm so he must have used his side-by-side and he’ll be pleased with that bag.
Down the main street of Adare, couple of scrawny-looking Krauts mooching about, pop in for a haircut if there’s time, or even a full Irish in the visitor centre.
There’s John Shovlin at the door of the Hotel, missing nothing that passes. A tall young lad with his barefoot girl linking arms stroll down the street towards the Hotel in evening wear, she’s dangling her high-heeled shoes from her free hand, must have been a good bash in the hotel last night.
There’s Mikey in his jeep puffing his pipe and blathering into his two Portugal phones, heading for the park with a lawnmower up behind him on his trailer, loads of lights flashing and all business.
Out over the bridge, look left to see the egret at low tide, one of the few benefits of global warming. Speaking of benefits, look right to see the Desmond Castle OPW restoration – did they lay a stone this week yet?
On down to the Lantern Lodge, there’s Hourigan’s ‘box swinging left for the roundabout, there’s racing in Leopardstown today, maybe Beef Or Salmon is on board. Pass Mrs Clarke’s, beautiful flock of well-tended sheep grazing peacefully in their paddocks. Dead fox on the roadside, he must have been crossing from the Dunraven farm passage, and got killed overnight.
Under the Mount Earl overpass, and there’s Mattie McGuire’s magnificent bane of pedigree Charolais’ grazing on his farm on the right, a wonderful sight.
Here’s the blue squad minding the money wagon on a Tuesday morning, it doesn’t matter if you’re on your phone, they can’t break away from the convoy.
On down to the new bypass, really picking up speed now. Watch all the Cork fellas overshooting the up-ramp on their side and getting lost. Getting a bit too fast for looking around, but the odd kestrel hunting the roadside margins and the central median always delights. Check for the Federales under the three-phase power lines crossing below Patrickswell. Shoot up the off-ramp, and we’re there.
What else can the day offer?
Nuts.
posted by The Bolted Nut | 11:00 PM
1 Comments:
Great post. I travel that route often but didn't know a tenth of that. It would be great to get others to do the same for different roads.
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