I mentioned a few posts ago that during this trip to Scotland, I figured out that my ancestors were the Barons of Clackmannan and lived for many generations in a tower in the village of Clackmannan. Because we were the only ones who signed up for a group Outlander tour, Henry, our bekilted Tartan Viking Tour guide, had leeway to treat us to a side trip to this venerable ancestral tower.
For me, our visit to Clackmannan Tower was truly an unexpected highlight of our trip (thank you, Henry!). King’s Seat Hill upon which the tower is built had long been a strategic outpost. Before the brick tower, the English had built a wooden tower upon it. It commands a view of the Ochil Hills, a 25-mile range that stretches between the Firth of Tay and Stirling.
I’m not exactly clear on this, but I think the tower was built by King David Bruce (Robert the Bruce’s son and second king of Scotland) and was given to his kinsman, Sir Robert Bruce, who is my ancestor. It was inherited by Sir Robert’s son Thomas, who was the 1st Baron of Clackmannan. My ancestors were part of the tower’s history until the 6th Baron of Clackmannan. After that, my ancestry diverges through the baron’s daughter, Lady Christina Bruce. The tower was passed from father to son, and since she was a daughter, she left once she got married.
A wonderful post with useful links about the tower is available through Wee Walking Tours, including embedded videos.
The tower had another tower built onto it, forming an L shape. Originally, a mansion was attached to the tower, but that has been long gone now. In the 1700s, the Bruces who were the current Barons of Clackmannan built a coal mine underneath the tower. Their venture into coal proved a downfall for both the family and the tower. They became bankrupt and the ground underneath the tower became unstable, causing it to lean. The family had to sell the tower to pay their debts. After that, it fell into neglect.
The tower has been rebuilt and refortified a couple of times due to this subsidence. It’s not usually open for tours and is now owned by Historic Scotland. During our tour of Broomhall, Charles Bruce told us that one of the stone archways in an upper level of the tower collapsed and broke through the floors below it. It’s not habitable but does have electricity and a well with water. Historic Scotland has plans to increase public access to the tower in the coming years. I wish them luck!
Near the tower is a modern stone timeline that describes the geologic and glacial history of the area. A nostalgic and primitive tree swing hangs from one of the large trees on the hillside.
If I ever return to Scotland, I think it would be fun to stay in Clackmannanshire and learn more about the area where my ancestors lived for so many generations, and spend more time with the leaning tower.
Next up: our final day in Scotland and a fancy dinner in a mansion that we won’t soon forget!
The Royal Scots Greys Monument with Edinburgh Castle in the background.
In my previous post, Russ and I returned to Edinburgh, mystified and a bit sad after a failed attempt to tour Broomhall House, current home of the Family of Bruce, which we’d been planning for months.
We spent the next day in Edinburgh, seeing the sights including the Scottish National Gallery, which offered several floors of exquisite Scottish and international art from the Renaissance to the beginning of the 20th century. The building looks like an ancient Greek temple and was meant as a “temple to the arts.”
A street piper outside the Scottish National Gallery.
As we walked back to our hotel, we got a happy text from Tartan Viking Tours that our Broomhall tour was rescheduled for tomorrow! We ate lunch next door to our hotel, at Whighams Wine Cellars. I was excited to see they had Cullen skink soup on their menu. It was very good! We ended up eating two more meals there since the food was so good and the prices reasonable. In the afternoon, we meandered about a mile up the hill to Edinburgh Castle. We were an hour early for our reserved tour, so we wandered down the Royal Mile (along with thousands of other people) and shopped.
When it was finally tour time, great-grandfather to the 21st power, Robert the Bruce, greeted us in statue form as we crossed the drawbridge. (William Wallace is on the other side.) It’s crazy to think The Bruce strode some of the same walkways that we were now treading. Later, inside, we saw the ruins of a tower built by his son David. They were crumbling away underneath another building that had been constructed atop it. Stones may crumble, but the bloodline lives on in me and so many other people. I’ve seen estimates that 200 million people are related to Robert the Bruce. (BTW, I just sent off a DNA test kit so that I can confirm, or not, this relationship. The current info I have comes from some cousins.)
The Robert the Bruce statue at Edinburgh Castle.
The castle is built on an impressive volcanic plug, but I found the castle itself – especially the royal quarters – not that impressive when compared to Stirling Castle. The Great Hall was cool, though, with its huge fireplace, oak paneling and suits of armor. I was also a bit let down by the crown jewels. From the long line of people waiting to see them, I guess I expected something more than just a crown, scepter, and sword. They wouldn’t let us take photos, but thanks to the castle’s blog, I have one to share with you.
Edinburgh Castle Crown Jewels Room. Image courtesy of Honours of Scotland.
I wondered if part of the reason the castle wasn’t “all that” was because it was yet another casualty of Robert the Bruce’s campaign to destroy castles so that the English couldn’t use them later. (Read more about that on the castle blog here.)
Tour over, we shopped some more on the Royal Mile and returned to our hotel. That was enough for me for the day. I had developed a bad cold or allergies was feeling under the weather. However, the actual weather this day was the best yet – no rain for once!
The beginning of the Royal Mile outside of Edinburgh Castle.
Day 8 in Scotland found Russ and I with our kilted tour guide Calum on the way to Broomhall House. Our tour was finally going to happen!!
Broomhall House
Distant cousin Charles Bruce met us at the door. My first impression was that he must have an awesome skin care routine. His face positively glowed! After exchanging greetings, Calum said he was going to depart now. I looked at him, surprised. We had talked earlier about whether he’d be able to do the tour with us. He said he wanted to, as long as I was okay with it and Charles was okay with it. I was astute enough to notice that although Calum’s mouth was saying one thing, his eyes were pleading to let him stay. I said something like nonsense, we were fine with having Calum along for the tour as long as it was okay with Charles. Charles gave his permission and then led us through a room containing replicas of the “Elgin Marbles.” These are historic marble statues collected by a previous Lord Elgin (the 7th) from the Parthenon in Greece. In recent years, they caused quite a stir at being in the hands of the family, so they donated them to the British Museum in London.
Calum, our Tartan Viking Tour guide, in Limekiln.
We settled in the library and Charles poured us some tea. He asked a bit about my ancestral background and then began a lecture about Andrew Carnegie, the Scottish-American industrialist and philanthropist who was born nearby in Dunfermline. He showed us a ledger book that contained an IOU to the Bruce Family from the Carnegie Family. It’s not known whether this debt was ever paid since the Carnegies moved to America later. But Charles was rather tickled to think that a family destined to become one of the richest in America had been in debt to his family.
View from the Music Room into the Library. Image courtesy of Broomhall House.
As we discussed the books in the library, Charles off-handedly mentioned they had a first edition copy of “Waverly” by Sir Walter Scott. Later, I asked if I could see it. He couldn’t find it, but he did find a third edition of “Rob Roy.”
At one point, he opened a book that contained an old map. Me, with my cold and my dust allergies, immediately began a mortifying coughing fit. Charles, the dear man, ran out of the room to find me some water. In the meantime, I thought to pour myself more tea. By the time he returned, my fit had subsided, thankfully.
The Music Room in Broomhall. Image courtesy of Broomhall House.
Our next stop was the Music Room, which contained the original plans for Broomhall House. It was originally supposed to have marble columns on the front, but the family ran out of funds by that point. The columns, which were already cut, were added to a different building elsewhere. Charles also talked about the nearby town of Limekiln and how the citizens there made the best mortar (plaster) for building. It’s the same mortar that was used by the Scottish builders who worked on the White House in the U.S. Limekiln no longer has a lime works, but a nearby town does.
Limekiln, Scotland. Home of the mortar that holds the U.S. White House together!
On our way into the dining room, we passed a lighted cabinet that contained one of the plaster casts of Robert the Bruce’s skull and his claymore sword, which has been passed down in the family through the generations. I felt compelled to stand in front of it for a few moments and pay my respects.
The dining room sported a long table that Charles said was given as a wedding present. Family members each bought a chair that line the table, and he said they are very uncomfortable! There was also an impressive Delft tile fireplace with a mantle made from a bed that Queen Anne of Denmark slept in. Charles said his grandfather found the bed in pieces in an antique shop. There weren’t enough pieces to make it back into a bed, so he had them crafted into the mantle instead.
The Broomhall Dining Room and fireplace, decorated for the holidays. Image courtesy of Broomhall House.
On the table were many silver pieces, some oriental-looking. One of Charles’s ancestors was ambassador to Turkey and perhaps picked them up in his travels. The dining room also sported a painting of Catherine Bruce of Clackmannan. She was the last Bruce to live at the mansion and tower in Clackmannan and was a memorable character. She and her husband were Jacobites. She is known for unofficially knighting poet Robert Burns with the very sword I saw in the cabinet. She also has a contra dancing reel named after her.
Catherine Bruce of Clackmannan, the painting that hangs in Broomhall House. Image courtesy of Wikipedia.
Our last stop was a room that had a large, tattered Union Jack flag hanging from the ceiling. Charles said the flag had been flying at the house in the 1940s when three Nazi planes attacked. Charles’s father was ushered to the basement, but his grandfather grabbed a gun and went outside to shoot the planes! Later, at least one of the planes was shot down and it contained some bullet holes that might have been made by his grandfather. Charles showed us newspaper accounts of the adventure.
Our tour was only supposed to last for two hours but a fast 2-1/2 hours had gone past. As we began parting words, I thought to grab my genealogy list from my purse. I asked Charles if we could figure out where our lines diverged. He led me to a large book that contained a family chart. As near as I could tell with a quick look, our paths diverged after the 6th Baron of Clackmannan, David Bruce, in the late 1400s, which was about 15 generations ago.
Charles said he’d never had anyone come so prepared to discuss genealogy before. I was excited to see that the information Charles had gibed with what I had. I just laughed at his comment but inside I was thinking, “You have no idea!” I was glad for the time that my broken ankle gave me to bone up on the family tree. (Ha ha.) By now, my ankle had healed enough that I didn’t need to use hiking pole anymore. I was glad I didn’t have that thing clunking around in this fine home.
Charles gave me permission to blog about our visit; however, the Bruces don’t allow photos to be taken in the house. The ones accompanying this post are from the Broomhall website. We did take some shots of all of us on the steps of the house, thanks to Calum. I was tickled to notice that both Russ and Charles were wearing the same seersucker shirt.
Me, Charles and Russ after our tour.
I was so happy the tour came to pass. It truly was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. As Calum later commented, “That was posh!” And it was worth every penny and all the angst. In fact, the angst made me appreciate it even more.
Next up: An Outlander Tour.
If you enjoy my blog, you’ll love my book! Meander North showcases 51 of the best stories from this blog about my quirky life in northern Minnesota and my writerly pursuits. It earned a silver Midwest Book Award for nature writing and was published by Nodin Press in Minneapolis. It is available for $19.95 through their distributor at this link.
I meandered down to Savannah for a work trip last month. I’d visited the city once before, but that was a long time ago, and I didn’t stay long. I must say I enjoyed spending four days in this southern gothic berg, even though most of the time I was in an air-conditioned hotel listening to presentations.
When I did get outdoors, I loved walking along the Savannah River down historic cobblestone streets. Live oaks draped with Spanish moss lined the route and historical sites seemed to emerge around every corner.
One morning, I managed to take a guided trolley tour around the city. It was one of those tours where you can hop on and off to explore the sights more closely. The trollies run every 20 minutes, which makes exploring very convenient. (Note: There are two trolley companies, so make sure you’re at the correct stop to board!)
I’d heard that Forsyth Park was picturesque, so I hopped off there and meandered around. The park offers wide sidewalks, those wonderful live oaks, and a large fountain. Near the fountain, a sidewalk trumpeter played a mellow tune. Even so, children walking by danced and hopped around to the music.
For the hungry, there’s a restaurant (Collins Quarter) in the park that offers takeout and sit-down dinners. People were lounging outside, dining under umbrellas on the patio of the Greek Revival building. I wasn’t hungry but didn’t want to pass up such a quaint place, so I ordered an iced spiced lavender mocha (decaf) from their takeout window. It was divine! The drink contained espresso, Condor chocolate, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and lavender. I would rate it as one of the best mochas I’ve ever had. I sipped this purple cinnamon flower elixir as I walked to the trolley stop. It made the short wait more enjoyable.
The fountain in Forsyth Park.
Besides the mocha, another thing that impressed me about Savannah was the way they remember the different ethnic groups that helped found the city. About a tenth of the original settlers were Irish, so a Celtic cross stood in the park by my hotel. On the trolley ride, the driver pointed out a marker honoring Scottish Highlanders. Since I was just in Ireland and Scotland, this warmed the cockles of my heart and made me feel at home.
Once I was back near my hotel it was lunchtime. I decided to check out The Pirate’s House Restaurant. The building was first opened in 1753 as an inn for seafarers and then, as its website says, it “fast became a meeting place for pirates and sailors from the Seven Seas.” The building fell into disuse after World War II, but has been restored and is now considered a house museum.
I ordered the soup, salad, and sandwich, which featured she crab soup and a chicken salad croissant. Delish! As I ate, I realized that the building, with its uneven floors and clapboard siding, had a familiar feel – like I’d been there before. As I read about the restaurant’s history on my placemat, it struck me. I’d imagined this place while reading the book, “Treasure Island,” by Robert Louis Stevenson! Stevenson had visited Savannah and the house was thought to be his inspiration for the inn where Captain Flint died, uttering his last words: “Darby M’Graw, fetch aft the rum.”
The Sapelo Island National Estuarine Research Reserve Visitor Center on the mainland.
The next day was field trip day for my conference. I had selected a trip to Sapelo Island off the Georgia coast. The island is a National Estuarine Research Reserve, part of the same national network dedicated to environmental research, education, and stewardship that the coworkers in my office back home work for. As you may recall, I’m an isleophile (I love islands!), so that, combined with the whole Reserve thing, is why I chose this particular field trip.
Not just anyone can visit the island. No roads lead to it—you have to take a ferry. Also, you need to be invited by the Reserve or one of the residents of the small island community of Hog Hammock. Many of the residents in Hog Hammock are Gullah—descendants of former slaves with their own unique culture.
Gullah ring shouters.
A few days earlier, our conference had kicked off with a stirring performance by Gullah ring shouters. They shuffled in a counterclockwise circle while singing, dancing, clapping, and stomping. Ring shouting is an African tradition that the slaves brought with them and is still part of the Gullah worship services. Hog Hammock is one of the last remaining Gullah communities in the U.S., and is under threat due to land development and zoning.
We boarded the ferry and traveled through the salt marshes to the island, where a flock of terns greeted us, sitting on the dock railings. Our first stop was the Reserve office where one of their naturalists oriented us to the island. Then we traipsed outdoors for a service project. The thirty of us weeded a native plant garden and transplanted live oaks into larger pots. The oaks were being grown to help rehab a former airstrip on the island. The island used to be owned by tobacco magnate, R. J. Reynolds. He built a mansion there (which sports a bowling alley and tennis courts and is now available for rent to large groups), a dairy barn and outbuildings. He wanted his compound on the island to be self-sufficient.
After the trees were all transplanted, we headed to the dock to collect some tiny salt marsh critters to bring back to the office lab and look at under microscopes. We found crabs, small fish, and barnacles.
A beach on Sapelo Island. I loved how natural it was.
After eating lunch under a shelter at the beach, our next stop was the University of Georgia Marine Research Institute. After Reynolds died, his widow donated the dairy barn compound to the university for that purpose. Students spend the summer on the island conducting research projects, and we saw several in progress.
The marine research institute on Sapelo Island.
A film screening studio is one surprising thing that Mr. Reynolds built into the dairy barn. Apparently, he had many friends in Hollywood who would fly out to the island to screen movies. He even had two extra-wide chairs built to accommodate his heftier movie mogul friends. We sat in the room and watched a movie about the research institute. But I must admit I was distracted by wondering if any famous movies were screened in that remote barn.
The turkey fountain on Sapelo Island.
Another surprising decorative feature at the institute was an outdoor fountain that features cement turkeys. Yes, you heard me, turkeys. Why? Conflicting stories abound. Some say it was R. J. Reynold’s idea. Others say it was his wife’s idea. It’s certainly not something you see every day, especially at a marine institute. When I first noticed the fountain from a distance, I assumed the turkeys, with their fanned-out tails, were large scallops or oysters. Huh.
Our last stop was the Sapelo Island Light Station. But on our way, we drove through Hog Hammock and were able to see where the ring shouter performers lived. The homes are very modest but some Gullah are selling their land to mainlanders who want to build larger homes, which would drive up property taxes.
The lighthouse is a red and white striped affair that rises 80 feet into the saltmarsh air. A tiny museum in a building alongside it offers bits of history and memorabilia. Others on our tour climbed the tower for the view from the top. I opted out. This northern lady was pretty sapped by the southern heat by then. Climbing a spiral staircase in a tower without air conditioning just didn’t appeal to me at that point.
Sapelo Island Light Station.
Then it was back to the ferry for us and a long bus ride back to Savannah. I felt privileged to have the opportunity for this special trip to the island and to learn more about Georgia’s environment and culture. It was fun to give back a bit, too, by transplanting those baby live oaks.
Savannah’s “Waving Girl” statue at night, waving hello (or is it goodbye?) to my blog readers and ships that pass on the Savannah River.
Newgrange seen in the distance from the banks of the River Boyne.
Surprises and mystery lay in wait for us on our final day in Ireland. We took a long cab ride from Dublin to the World Heritage Site of Newgrange, also known in Gaelic as Brú na Bóinne. Newgrange is like the Stonehenge of Ireland. It’s actually older than Stonehenge (and the Egyptian pyramids) and is likewise one of those mysterious Neolithic sites where during the Solstice the sun shines through the stone doorway and lights up the interior. Never having been to Stonehenge (yet), this version was a must-see for our trip.
Surprise No. 1 had come a few weeks before when we made reservations for a tour of the inner chamber at Newgrange. I had thought there was only one passage tomb mound at the site, but discovered there are two other large ones (Knowth and Dowth), plus standing stones and henges. We chose the main tour option, which includes entrance to the visitor center, a guided tour of the Knowth mound, and access to the chamber at Newgrange.
The visitor center does a great job of interpreting the site and it has a gift shop, which we appreciated more after our tour and learning about the significance of the symbols on the passage tombs. The shop sells jewelry and other things with those designs on them.
The River Boyne
We spent about 45 minutes in the visitor center before the start of our tour. Our tour began with a walk across the fabled River Boyne to a bus stop. I was excited to see the river in person. Our former minister, who was of Irish descent, often referred to the river in his tales of the “salmon of knowledge” from his trip to Ireland. Crossing the river on a small bridge, I was struck by the sheer lushness of the landscape and all the life that the river brings to it. Other than for some nearby farms, the area is largely undeveloped. It’s like an Irish Garden of Eden! I could imagine what it must have looked like in those Neolithic days (3200 BC).
After waiting at the bus stop with two dozen other people, our bus arrived. We boarded and rode through narrow rural Irish roads to the first stop at Knowth. It featured a large mound surrounded by 17 smaller mounds. Although no tours of the interior of the large mound are offered, a stairway is cut into its side, and we could climb atop it.
The stairway to the top of Knowth mound.
But first, we walked around the mound, admiring the largest assemblage of megalithic art in Europe. Designs were hand-carved (of course) into the stone. Unlike the main mound of Newgrange, every stone at Knowth seemed to be carved. They’re called kerbstones and there are 127 of them. Most interesting to me was the Mirror Stone, which sports two U shaped carvings. When the sun shines on them during the equinoxes, the shapes are mirrored below the originals. Some theories suggest they represent crescent moons. So cool!
The Mirror Stone, Knowth.
The tour guides didn’t come right out and say it, but I learned that these mounds are like human-made wombs. Knowth features two independent stone slab passages built along east and west lines. The passages were covered with layers of soil and stone. They end at cruciform chambers—think the end of a cross or a uterus and ovaries. Cremated remains of the ruling class were placed in these side chambers, along with bones.
Surprise No.2 was that the kerbstones are also carved on the inside—the sides that faces the mound. Our tour guide said this was so the dead could “see” the carvings also, but other things I’ve read suggest the stones were already carved elsewhere and were just reused for the mound. I prefer the first explanation. The huge stones were transported from surrounding areas by boat, or they were pulled on ox hides over the river ice.
The view atop the mound was amazing! This area is steeped in so much lore. If you ever go on the tour, interpretive signs atop the mound will describe the sites you are seeing. During the Middle Ages, a royal residence was built on the mound, but it’s no longer there.
View of the wood henge from atop Knowth mound.
Close to the Knowth mound and off to one side is a wooden henge. Surprise 3 to me was that there used to be such things. I thought all henges were built of stone. The original henge was made of oak trees, but the modern recreation features spruce tree trunks. Our guide said that when the site was used for rituals, tables were in the middle of the henge sheltered by a tarp. The bodies of the dead were laid on the tables for decomposition, I assume before they were moved inside the mound. The guide also said that the remains or cremains of 200 people have been found in the mounds and that Knowth mound was used as a giant refrigerator. Nine “sutrains” — things like little root cellars—were dug into the sides of it for food storage.
After our tour, we boarded the bus for the short drive to the Newgrange mound. It’s the largest mound in the area and is thought to have taken many years to build. Who built it? Our guide said that DNA testing on the remains in the mound shows a relationship most closely to people of Sardinian descent. Surprise 4 is that these people weren’t the ancient Irish! I’m sure they became the ancient Irish as they had families here, but huh. I wonder if that’s where the “dark Irish” come from?
Newgrange mound
During the time the Sardinians came to Ireland, the culture was changing from hunter-gatherer to farming. It would make sense that knowing the cycles and location of the sun would be important to farmers. Perhaps the Sardinians were ousted from their land in a royal feud or something. They were obviously highly intelligent and became a ruling class in their new land.
A large oblong stone lays on the ground at the entrance to the Newgrange chamber. It features at least spiral designs, which are thought to represent different life stages: birth, death, rebirth; or birth, adulthood, and old age.
The spiral stone and the entrance to Newgrange.
The guides warned us that the stone chamber is very narrow and low, and that larger people might not be able to make it all the way inside to the end chambers. We entered single file. Russ said that a couple people on our tour did have to turn back because they couldn’t fit. We made it to the end, however, and were treated to the sights of more spiral stones and basin stones that used to hold the bones and cremains.
Once we were all gathered, our guide turned off the lights. Another guide outside shined a light to simulate the sun during the Solstice so we could see what the chamber looked like on its banner day. A hush fell over us and I’m sure I’m not the only one who was awestruck.
Once the lights came back on the spell was broken. If you are a person of average dimensions, I highly recommend the chamber tour! Emerging from the chamber did feel like a kind of rebirth through time and history. We wandered off into daylight, returning to the modern world.
Our second-to-last day in Ireland, we bused to the city center and visited EPIC, the Emigration Museum. I never discovered just what EPIC stands for, but the experience truly was extensive in scope. There are walk-through exhibits on famous Irish people, personal stories about why people left for other countries (usually Canada, America, and Australia), what their emigration experience was like, and how they felt about leaving their homeland. People had many reasons for leaving including famine, economics, and conflicts.
The current population of Ireland is about 5 million, but it’s estimated (on Wikipedia) that 10 million people have emigrated and 50-80 million people around the world have Irish forebears. This is the largest amount for any one country in the world.
As mentioned in a previous post, Russ’s family were tax collectors and most likely flax farmers. They emigrated to the U.S. to reside in Connecticut and worked in silk and velvet factories. Perhaps their move was for economic reasons. Also, other relatives had already emigrated there.
The Famine Memorial Statues, Dublin
After leaving the museum, we walked to the Cobblestone Pub, which had been recommended to us by several friends for its authentic ambiance and live music. Along the way, we passed the famine memorial statues, which commemorate when more than one million Irish people (half the population at the time) died of starvation during 1845-1849. The famine was due to a potato blight, but also because too much of their food was being exported to England. The haunting, skeletal figures are shown clutching their meager possessions on their way to a ship to leave the country.
Even the dog was hungry….
The Cobblestone Pub doesn’t look like much from the outside, but don’t let that fool you. Four musicians were playing in the front alcove as we entered. We found seats at the bar. They don’t serve food, but of course, there’s Guinness and hard cider, of which we partook. A few patrons stood in the entry, blissing out on the music, drinks in hand. Previously, we had visited the famous Temple Bar, but bailed due to the crowds and noise. The Cobblestone experience was much more to our liking.
Afterward, we visited a nearby Mediterranean café (The Oasis) for lunch (very good!) Sated, we walked back to the city center to catch a bus to our hotel. We felt comfortable enough with knowing our route to sit on the upper deck this time, and we called it a day.
Next up: Our final day in Ireland finds us at Newgrange, a series of Neolithic burial mounds.
The Gaia art exhibit in Trinity College’s Long Room Library.
I can’t believe how much Russ and I meandered around Dublin on this day! We certainly felt grateful for our good fitness and working legs. Also, we learned that the buses in Dublin require exact change. You can put extra in, but you won’t get change back.
Taxi Driver Wisdom
The times we took cabs in Dublin, most of the drivers were talkative and friendly, but some weren’t, and that was okay, too. From them, we learned such gems as:
Although Guiness is seen as Irish, it’s actually an English-owned company. But that’s okay because the beer is so good!
Although the Irish band U2 is seen as lead singer Bono’s band, it’s actually the drummer’s band. The drummer is who hired Bono.
Dublin is synonymous with Las Vegas for the British. What happens in Dublin stays in Dublin.
One way to relieve arthritis knee pain is to soak a rag in whiskey and wrap it around your knee.
I have not fact-checked these claims, so take them as you will. We truly enjoyed our conversations with cab drivers both here and later in Scotland.
Molly Malone
The Molly Malone statue, Dublin
In my previous post, Russ and I had just finished visiting the Temple Bar. From there, we walked to Trinity College to fulfill our reservation to enter its famous Long Room and view The Book of Kells. We had plenty of time before we needed to be there, so we took a short side trip through the ever-present drizzle to see the Molly Malone statue.
Molly is a semi-historical, semi-mythical lady commemorated in the song “Cockles and Mussels,” which has become an unofficial Dublin anthem. Molly worked as a fishmonger but also as a working girl. She died in one of the outbreaks of Cholera that regularly used to sweep the city. The statue of Molly and her cart is affectionately nicknamed “The Tart with the Cart” by Dubliners, no doubt due to her highly visible cleavage. About ten years ago, someone got the bright idea that rubbing her aforementioned cleavage would lead to good luck. Now the patina on that part of the statue has been rubbed off and brightened by the hands of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Currently, there’s been some talk of trying to protect the statue from this practice.
Trinity College
Shelves that still contain books in the Long Room. It also features busts of many great historical minds — mainly men, but a few token women have recently been included.
In the heart of Dublin, Trinity College is home to the legendary Book of Kells – a 9th-century gospel manuscript famous for its illustrations. We reserved the Book of Kells and Old Library experience, but there are also other tour options that interpret the Book of Kells more. We were more interested in seeing the library based on amazing images I’ve seen online and in other’s blogs.
I have to admit the Book of Kells was rather underwhelming, since it’s in a glass case and you can only view a few pages. I guess that’s why they’ve developed the additional tour experiences that offer digital views of more of it.
The long view of the Long Room, Trinity College.
The Long Room in the library, however, lived up to the hype! Currently, an art exhibit called “Gaia” is featured in it: a floating illuminated globe of the Earth that looks like it’s in outer space. Ironically, many of the books in the library are off the shelves. They’re being restored (and dusted, I suppose !)
We spent a lot of time in the Long Room, just soaking up the literary silence and beauty of it.
Day 5 found us still in Dublin. Next up: the famine statues, the emigration museum, and Cobblestone Pub.
We explored Dublin, feeling more connected to this land after our previous day’s adventure seeing where Russ’s ancestors lived. Our first stop was the National Museum of Archaeology. We saw golden artifacts and a huge dugout canoe crafted over 4,000 years ago (the Lurgan canoe). But the things I most wanted to see were the bog bodies.
Gallagh Man
If you’re not familiar, bog bodies are the corpses of unfortunate people who were either murdered or ritually sacrificed and buried in the boglands of Ireland and other countries. There are five bodies (or parts of bodies) on tasteful display in the (free to enter) museum. I’d only seen photos of them in magazines before. I wanted to see the bodies in person because I wrote a short story about a bog body, which will be featured in my book that’s slated for publication this fall. I’m in the middle of editing the manuscript and wanted to see if this museum experience would give me any new ideas.
I only took photos of two of the bodies: Gallagh Man and Clonycavan Man. Gallagh Man was a six-foot-tall, healthy man with reddish hair who lived sometime between 470-120 BC. He was found in County Galway, Ireland, in 1821 by laborers digging peat for fuel. The twenty-five-year-old was most likely strangled before being buried in the bog.
Clonycavan Man
Clonycavan Man was found in County Meath in 2003, also by peat harvesters. Alas, they were using a machine that cut the body in half, and only the upper torso and head remain. He was between 20 and 40 years old when he died sometime between 392-201 BC. At five-foot-two, he was shorter than Gallagh Man. One of Clonycavan Man’s most distinguishing characteristics was his hair. He had what may have been the first man bun! Perhaps it made him look taller. Scientists even discovered an ancient form of hair gel in his hair, made of plant oil and pine resin. The presence of this gel indicates he was fairly wealthy during his lifetime; it was made from materials found in France and Spain. His injuries suggest a grisly death, which may have been the result of torture. I’m not going to go into them here!
One theory proposed is that these men were failed kings or failed candidates for kingship who were killed and placed in bogs along tribal boundary lines. Their bodies served as offering to the goddess of the land to whom the actual king was “wed” in his inauguration ceremony.
I was particularly excited to see Clonycavan Man’s hair bun, since I gave the bog body in my short story a similar attribute. Seeing the bodies did not give me new ideas; rather the experience enforced what I’d already written. But it was very interesting to see them up close.
Next door to the museum is the National Library, which offered a free exhibit on William Butler Yeats, one of my favorite writers. We saw his copy of “Walden” and learned more about Maud Gonne, his muse who refused to marry him several times. I also learned that Yeats was heavily into spiritualism (think seances). I had not known that before.
In an interesting coincidence, later that day, I ordered water at a restaurant. It came in a bottle sporting Yeats’s photo. The brand name was W.B. Yeats water. Imagine, naming a commercial brand after a writer! We don’t do that enough in the U.S. I will happily sell my name and likeness to anyone who wants to use it for commercial purposes. 😊
After touring the library, we walked through a drizzle to the famous Temple Bar. It’s known for its live music, ambiance, and large whiskey collection. It was too crowded and noisy, so we satisfied our curiosity with a mere stroll through it.
We had more Dublin adventures that day, but I’ll save them for the next post.
The town of Armagh and St. Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral as seen from the steps of St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Cathedral.
This day was a big deal for us. We’d been working for six months with My Ireland Family Heritage, a small, family-owned company that does genealogy research and tours. This was the day for our tour of the lands of Russ’s ancestors!
Our guide, Ian, picked us up from our hotel in Belfast. Our first stop was the small town of Armagh near where Russ’s ancestors lived. We had requested a visit to St. Patrick’s Cathedral there, but once we reached the town, we were surprised to learn that there are two of them! The oldest one (year 445) is Protestant and the more recent one (1840) is Catholic.
Armagh owes its association with St. Patrick to the old church, which is named St. Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral. It stands on a hill overlooking the town. The hill (Ard Mhacha or Height of Macha) is where the city (Armagh) got its name. Before the church was built, it was a major ritual site and an ancient royal center. The Book of Armagh states that St. Patrick decreed that the Armagh church should have pre-eminence over all other churches and monasteries in Ireland, a position it holds to this day. The present structure was built in 1268 but it has been restored several times due to fires and worship needs.
Inside St. Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral, Armagh.
Across the way atop another hill is the other church, St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Cathedral. It’s the seat of the Catholic Archbishop of Armagh. We could easily see it from the steps of the Protestant church. Of the two, the Catholic one is the fanciest, probably owing to its more modern construction.
Us at St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Cathedral, Armagh.
Russ’s great-great-great grandfather James Henry Thornton lived just outside of Armagh in the small township of Foybeg. He came to Ireland from England with the unenviable job as a tax collector for Lord Lurgan (Charles Brownlow or Baron Lurgan), an Anglo-Irish politician who represented Armagh in the U.K. Parliament.
James Henry was married twice, but we didn’t know the names of either of his wives. James Henry had two sons, James and John, one with each wife. Besides being a tax collector, his occupation is recorded in church records as a farmer. Ian told us that Foybeg is known for the growth and weaving of flax into linen. It was the “cash crop” of the time, much like coffee is for Brazil today. So, he could have been a flax farmer.
His son James eventually moved to Australia. Russ is related to John, who was his great-great grandfather. He is described in family records as at least six feet tall. He loved horses, hunting and good whiskey, but hated work. He always carried a cane and had at least two dogs following him at all times. He was educated to teach school in Northern Ireland.
John married Jane Berry and they had eleven children. One of them was Russ’s great-grandfather, William John Thornton, who went by the name John Jr. After he emigrated to America, he married an Irish woman, Sarah J. Fox. She grew up near Foybeg.
Ian, our tour guide, outside St. Paul’s Church.
After lunch, Ian took us to St. Paul’s Church, which was where Sarah’s family worshipped and were buried. We saw lots of graves with familiar family surnames (Fox, Johnston, Berry) but did not come across anything significant. Inside, there was a “new” baptismal font on display. The old one was shoved underneath a spiral staircase. Could that have been used for Sarah Fox or her family?
The old baptismal font in St. Paul’s Church.
Our next stop was the Drumcree Church of the Ascension, where we hit the jackpot! This was the church (Church of Ireland denomination) where the Thorntons worshipped and were married/buried. The church is surrounded by cow pastures and apple orchards and even has an apple tree depicted in a stained-glass window.
The apple tree stained-glass window in Drumcree Church.
Besides the ancestral connection, Drumcree Church was significant during Ireland’s “troubles.” For several years in the 1990s, this Protestant church drew international attention as the scene of the Drumcree standoffs. Each year, the Protestant Orange Order marched to-and-from a service at the church on the Sunday before the 12th of July. Residents in the nearby Catholic district prevented the march from continuing through their neighborhood. Thousands of Orangemen and British loyalists gathered at Drumcree and violently tried to force their way through, but were held back by security forces, who built large steel and barbed wire barricades. These yearly “sieges” of Drumcree ended in the early 2000s.
Drumcree Church and graveyard
As we strolled around the graveyard, which smelled of manure from the cows nearby, we noticed a broken headstone propped up against the low stone wall that borders the yard. It was the headstone for JamesHenry Thornton and Mary. Mary must have been James Henry’s second wife! The last line on the tombstone says something about their son James Thornton, who was thought to have lived in Australia. Maybe he returned home to Ireland, eventually? The church member who let us into the building for a tour said that the stone must have been broken in the past, so that’s why it was leaning up against the wall and not over their gravesite. He said they do that instead of just getting rid of the broken ones.
Our exciting graveyard find!
As if discovering this significant gravestone wasn’t enough, our talkative guide Ian next took us to the homesites of Russ’s ancestors. Two out of three weren’t accessible or there was nothing to see but an orchard, but the Thornton homesite was different! We peered down a driveway that led to a modern house. Between the driveway and the house was an old white building with red doors and a rusting metal roof. This was where Russ’s Thornton ancestors lived! It looked more like a shed or a barn now than a home.
The Thornton Family home in Foybeg Township, Ireland.
We only had time to take a few photos before Ian wanted to leave. You see, he is a Catholic from the Republic of Ireland to the south. We were in Northern Ireland, which is mostly Protestant. He did not feel comfortable hanging out in rural areas for fear of a confrontation. (People can tell where he’s from by the license plate on the van.)
Once we were back in the van driving away, Russ said a lady had been out in the yard. I would have loved to have had the chance to speak with her to see if she knew anything about the past inhabitants of her place, but I did not see her when I was taking pictures of it. Russ took the geographic coordinates of the location, so perhaps, if we ever return, we will have more time to explore and chat. Russ said that this was his favorite part of the tour.
As the ancestry book that the tour company put together for us says,
What was once a home where children played a hive of activities stands quiet now, a home for spiders and field mice. In the corner of the eves an owl hoots every evening . . . People lived and died in this cottage. Its walls could tell you stories, happy and sad. Children grew up here, some stayed near, and some traveled far and wide to the other side of the world. They packed their memories to start a new life, new beginnings, and new memories, leaving this little cottage to nature.
Russ’s great grandfather, William John Thornton emigrated to the U.S. He settled in Manchester Connecticut and married Sarah. They had four children. At the time of his marriage, William John was employed as a “velvet finisher.” He also worked as a coachman and a laborer later. Unfortunately, William John was an alcoholic. He died in 1917 from freezing to death in a drunken state in a roadside ditch. Sarah lived until a ripe old age, dying in 1964.
Tour over, Ian drove us to Dublin, the site of our next adventures!
Belfast was where the Titanic and its sister ships, the Olympic and Britannic, were built. We’d heard that because of this, the Titanic Museum was mainly about how the ship was built and not so much about the sinking, but we found this not to be true.
I was thankful for that because, of course, the sinking is what the Titanic is known for. Although I don’t care to watch the movie version of the sinking ever again (all that death made me ill!) I was interested in seeing the museum version of the tragedy.
A model of the Titanic in the Titanic Museum
The museum was well worth the entry price. Pre-booking of tickets is required. The displays were built in various ways that appeal to all types of learning: audio, visual, reading, entertainment, experiential, and probably a few others I don’t know about. Talking holograms of passengers and crewmembers offered interpretation along the way. There were models of the Titanic, and even a ride in these funky, boxy cars that took visitors through the experience of building the ship. Outdoors, the yard where the Titanic and other ships were built is visible from the museum.
A replica of a first-class state room on the Titanic, complete with hologram passenger and staff member.
My favorite part were the displays that dealt with discovering the ship’s resting place at the bottom of the North Atlantic. Visitors can walk over a glass floor that simulates walking above the wreckage on the ocean’s bottom. That was so cool!
Marie, striking a typical Titanic pose.
After our tour, we popped into the museum’s Galley Café, which had food just about a delectable as a first-class passenger’s on the Titanic. I ate a wonderful chowder and topped it off with trifle for dessert. Trifle is a parfait made with cake cubes, vanilla pudding combined with whipped cream, and interspersed with berries and peaches. The café’s trifle was not as good as the one I make, but I wasn’t going to complain. I was impressed that they even offered it as I’d never seen it on a menu before (especially in the U.S.).
Afterward, we meandered outside and toured a ship in dry dock called the Nomadic. Like the Titanic, it was built by the White Star Line and was the tender ship for the Titanic. This means it ferried passengers and supplies to it. The Nomadic is the only surviving White Star Line ship left. Entry onto it was included in our ticket price for the museum. That was fascinating to see, especially a few pieces of original oak paneling that are left in the women’s bathroom sitting room, and how the various classes of passengers were kept separated.
The Nomadic, Titanic’s tender ship.
After that, we hopped onto the Maritime Trail in a light drizzle. It goes right past the museum, so a stroll along it was a no-brainer. In addition to interpretive signs about the city’s maritime history, there were “Game of Thrones” stained glass displays. The TV series was filmed in Ireland.
A cute seal that was on the Maritime Trail.Look at those eyes!
As the drizzle increased and our feet got sore, we tried to order a cab to take us back to our hotel but had no luck. The problem was Shania Twain. The singer was in town and all the cabs were booked by her fans. We trudged back to the Titanic Museum and were able to nab a cab that was waiting in front for passengers. Our driver said that Shania is of Irish descent, along with Taylor Swift and Mariah Carey, so they’re all big deals in Ireland.
The main reason we decided to visit Ireland was to explore Russ’s heritage. Like the famous singers, Russ is of Irish descent (as well as French and German). His great-great-great and great-great grandfathers and grandmothers lived there, and the female line goes back even farther. In the next post, I’ll describe what happened on Day 3, which involved a genealogical tour to his ancestral homelands outside of Belfast.
Also, one of the main reasons we were visiting Scotland later on our trip was to investigate my ancestral heritage. Since the last time I was in Scotland eight years ago, I discovered (thanks to my cousins) that we’re related to Robert the Bruce, first king of Scotland. (He is my great-grandfather to the 21st power.) While we were backtracking to the museum in the rain, one of our plans on that account came to fruition. I’d been trying for months to book a tour of Broomhall House outside of Edinburgh, which is the family home of the Bruces, and it was only recently opened for public tours.
We got news that those plans were a “go!” That lightened the misery of walking with tired feet in the rain. We only hoped that our luggage would finally arrive so that we’d have something nicer to wear than blue jeans and stinky underwear to Broomhall.
We capped off our evening with supper at Ryan’s Pub. This was a second visit for us because it was within walking distance of our hotel and the food and drinks were grand! I was introduced to a whisky sour there (topped with a sprig of mint), and it has quickly become one of my favorites. As if that weren’t good enough, when we arrived back at our hotel, our luggage was waiting for us!
The beginning of the Mesabi Trail in Mountain Iron.
In our continuing quest to bike different sections of the Mesabi Trail in northern Minnesota, Russ and I meandered over to the small mining town of Mountain Iron last weekend. We planned to pedal a 6.5-mile stretch between there and the neighboring town of Kinney. (Round-trip, the distance is a little over 13 miles.)
Mountain Iron is known as “The Taconite Capitol of the World.” It’s the site where iron ore was first discovered on Minnesota’s Iron Range. The mine is no longer in operation, but during the 30 years it was open, 52 million tons of iron ore were shipped to various steel mills in places like Michigan and Illinois.
The landscape and town bear the scars of this industry. A huge mine pit filled with turquoise water is visible from the small city park where the trail begins. As we biked toward Kinney, we passed ghostly remnants of homes and businesses that had been moved to make room for mining operations. Cement house pads and neglected lilacs provided testament to the abandoned homesteads.
The open pit mine in Mountain Iron. You can almost make out the wind turbines on the hill to the right.
These days, instead of iron ore, Mountain Iron is known for wind energy. Several turbines spin on far hills. They are part of the Taconite Ridge Wind Energy Center – the first commercial wind center in northeastern Minnesota. An interpretive sign in the park says, “In ideal wind conditions, 10 turbines can collectively capture the wind and convert it into 25 megawatts of electricity – enough to power 8,000 homes on an annual basis.”
A typical section of the Mesabi Trail.
Compared to other sections of the trail we’ve biked, this was more civilized. Once we passed the abandoned neighborhood, a few occupied homes lay along the trail. Huge grassy piles of mining tailings lined the horizon. Although a sign along the way says that tailings are not a health hazard, I don’t believe it! We saw a lined basin where it seemed like water was being pumped from the base of the piles. I couldn’t find any info about that online, but I am hoping it’s so the water can be collected and treated before being released into the environment. For much of the way, the trail parallels a highway, although it’s often hidden from view by trees.
A couple of hills dot this section of trail, but nothing too onerous. When you first near the highway, there is a hill with a curve at the bottom. Bikers coming the other way also have a downhill before the curve, so beware of that. Two downhills lead over small bridges with culverts underneath them. The culverts each form a bump. I almost caught air on one of them!
We saw one bicycling family and a few other small groups. When we reached the turn off to Kinney, we did not feel the need to explore. But now, after reading more about the town, I wish we would have. Kinney once voted to secede from the United States and become a foreign country. This bold yet tongue-in-cheek action was taken to draw attention to the small city’s dire water system situation.
According to an account on the Mesabi Trail website (linked above via “Kinney”), the system was “failing so badly that the fire department had to watch buildings burn to the ground due to lack of water pressure. That year the term ‘The Kinney Brown Shirts’ was coined because all clothing washed with detergent that included bleach turned brown because of mineral deposits in the water.
“Replacing the water system far exceeded the budget of the small town, so the city exhaustively searched locally and nationally for assistance. The resulting volume of paperwork led to the city’s motto of ‘File in Triplicate.’ The city attorney commented that it would be easier to get money if the city seceded, waged war with the union, quickly lost, and then asked for foreign aid. The joke took root, and the council voted unanimously to secede on July 13, 1977, and a certified letter was sent to U.S. Secretary of State Cyrus Vance.”
A sign with the new name of the town of Kinney after it seceded from the USA and declared itself a foreign republic. Image courtesy of the Mesabi Trail website.
The secession gained international publicity and from that, the city eventually received grants to replace their water system.
Our way back to Mountain Iron seemed easier than the ride out. I’m not sure if that was from the tailwind or the topography, but biking back was a breeze. Ride over, we spent time exploring the various pieces of mining equipment in the park. This included an old locomotive, which, no doubt, used to haul taconite to ships waiting for it on Lake Superior’s shore. Another group of bikers that we passed on the trail arrived and we chatted a bit. They were from St. Paul and were biking the entire trail, staying in hotels overnight.
Downtown Mountain Iron.
That’s it for our experience with this section of the Mesabi Trail. Maybe next time, we’ll start from Kinney to experience this plucky little burg.
The locomotive engine in the Mountain Iron city park where the bike trail begins.
Update: 8/31/25
Well, it took a while, but we did start cycling from Kinney. This hardscrabble town is composed mostly of trailer homes. Not that there’s anything wrong with trailer homes. I’m just not used to seeing so many of them near the center of town.
We biked from Kinney to Buhl, which is only 4K. From there we rode toward Chisholm, a section we’ve ridden in the past, but I don’t think I blogged about it. The most scenic spot was the Stubler Mine Pit Beach, which looked like a good spot for swimming. A bunch of folks were doing just that during our Labor Day Weekend ride.
The beginning of the trail was wooded, but then much of it follows an abandoned roadway. The most scenic part of the section past Buhl was the City of Chisholm sewage plant. Thus, this addendum and not an entire blog post.
Marie's Meanderings 