EEarlier this year, a trailer for a film called “Dear Erin” was released in theaters, in which the bloodied, flat-capped “Paddy” writes a letter to Erin, his long-lost American flame, on a table littered with empty porter and whiskey glasses. There was much online uproar and frustration over yet another misrepresentation of modern Ireland by Hollywood. It eventually emerged that the trailer was an elaborate ploy by Epic, the Irish Emigration Museum in Dublin, to expose the tired stereotypes and “find out who the Irish really are.”
Ireland and the Irish are many things. The country's economic and social structures have changed rapidly in recent decades, but that doesn't necessarily mean that the culture has changed beyond recognition. What has changed is the increasing appeal of connecting with Ireland's natural landscapes. Writers such as the late Tim Robinson, Manchán Magan and popular podcaster Blindboyboatclub have been instrumental in exploring the connection between nature and the country's past. For the same reason, the Irish language has experienced a renaissance in recent years. In his 2020 bestseller Thirty-Two Words for Field, Magan writes: “Irish has a rich vocabulary that offers a more soulful and natural way of seeing the world. This allows you to immerse yourself more deeply in your surroundings.”
To test Magan's hypothesis, I traveled to the Fanad Peninsula with my family Gaelic language (Irish speaking) area of County Donegal this summer. The bilingual street sign that welcomed us to Fanad/Hike immediately provided geographical context, as fána is the Irish word for sloping terrain. Knockalla Mountain (Colva Hill To the east loomed the mountain (the hill on the edge), evoking images of the ice sheets that had formed the ridge along the twin peaks some 14,000 years ago.
The Ice Age also had an impact on the coast of Fanad. The rocks that still line the shores of pristine beaches were left behind by retreating glaciers and have since been ground into sand by the North Atlantic. We went to one of those white beaches in Ballyhiernan Bay (City Bay Wow Men – the townland of Tiarnán). There were no details on the shady Tiarnán's biography on my phone, but I wanted to find out more about why an entire bay was named after him – Robinson was right: “Place names tell stories.” We were alone on the beach, our only company being the swallows surfing the air currents above the crashing waves. My 16-year-old son and I had spent the last year visiting “pop-up.” Gaeltachts” in Dublin pubs to prepare for his work at an Irish college, a rite of passage for Irish teenagers, but he was missing the Irish word for “swallow.” It is swallowprobably from remain This means hiking or walking and perfectly reflects the preference of these summer visitors to travel to Africa in the winter.
The process of Anglicizing Irish place names began in the early 19th century following the Act of Union 1800, with towns being renamed as part of the Ordnance Survey of Ireland, which began in 1824. This act of cultural erasure was soon followed by the Great Famine of 1845 to 1852, which decimated the Irish-speaking population. In 1980, decades before the recent resurgence of interest in Ireland's linguistic past, Donegal playwright Brian Friel seized on this pivotal era for his 1833 opus Translations. The piece's erudite teacher, Hugh, who describes Irish as “an opulent syntax with a future,” would probably have smiled kindly at the idea of musicians like CMAT, Fontaines DC and Kneecap releasing songs in the language almost two centuries later.
As we settled in for our stay in a cottage on the grounds of Fanad Lighthouse, our living room overlooked the towering cliffs of Tory Island (Goals – place with steep rocky heights), another remote corner where the native language maintains its hold, and famous for having a king until 2018. Climbing the dizzying steps to the lantern room gave us even better views, with Malin Head (Cion Mallanna – high headland), Ireland's northernmost tip, clearly visible over Lough Swilly (Lake of eyes – lake of eyes or shadows). The vast expanse of sea in the north suggested the curvature of the earth, and Scotland and Iceland seemed almost within reach somewhere in the distance.
The next morning, as we kayaked beneath the nearby cliffs and blowholes with knowledgeable local guide Hugh Hunter, oystercatchers dove overhead, calling angrily as we paddled past their nesting sites. These black-and-white seabirds with orange, chisel-like beaks migrate here every fall from neighboring Nordic countries. My son doesn't know anything about the Irish oystercatchers: The role of Giolla BrighdeMeaning the servant of Saint Brigid. The story goes that Ireland's patron saint was hidden from an angry mob by a school of oystercatchers who covered her in seaweed.
That afternoon we joined the crowd at the Lighthouse Tavern to watch the All-Ireland football final between Donegal and Kerry. Every time the home team scored a goal there were loud cheers from a mix of Irish and English. At half-time we joined a group of local teenagers discussing their upcoming university courses in Dublin. I wondered how their lives would change and which of them, like the swallows and oystercatchers, would return to this far-off peninsula.
Later in the week, when we stopped to look for directions to Port Na Ling (shipping harbor) beach, a local engaged us in conversation and explained that he hadn't spoken a word of English until he went to secondary school. He pointed to the house where he grew up with 11 siblings, among a cluster of whitewashed hillside bungalows across Mulroy Bay (A Moel Rua – i.e. the bare hill). Ireland's pre-famine predominantly rural population peaked at around 8.2 million and a sense of what the country's built environment was like at the time is still palpable in many coastal communities in Donegal. Gweedore (Dover wind – Water Estuary), an hour away to the west, is considered one of the most densely populated rural areas in Europe. After the famine, the people of Donegal largely survived by traveling to Scotland as potato pickers, and this seasonal work enabled the county's population to remain relatively vibrant as locals returned home in the winter months rather than emigrating permanently.
We ended our time in Fanad by following the Stations of the Cross up Knockalla to an outdoor altar with three crosses that overlooked the peninsula. Blindboyboatclub explains that “the Irish landscape itself acts as a storyteller, whispering tales of the past.” The path we had just traveled had been a place of spiritual significance for millennia, long before it was taken over by Christianity. The many standing stones and ancient sites scattered across the fields bear witness to a secret history. We were the only people climbing the mountain that morning and what a privilege to have this sacred site to ourselves.
Our time in Fanad was a portal to a new view of the landscape. Magan was right: the Irish language is an extraordinary route to the past and offers us a better understanding of the present.
Two nights stays with Remain lighthouse out of 350€. Kayak tours with Eco-Atlantic Adventures out of 35 € pp. Further information: Tourismireland.com