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Connemara, colours and contours
 MALCOLM
ROGERS heads west to the furthest outpost of Connacht.
“It was a grey afternoon, with a spatter of rain in the air but
the colours ere pure Paul Henry the misty blues of the distant hills,
the golden brown of the mountain, the black and brown of the seaweedy
strip of shore at low-tide, the ice-green of the water where the wind
whipped, and the whole of it held in a light to be found nowhere else
in the world.”
That was the novelist Ethell Mannin speaking about Connemara. And it’s
true — the light here is ethereal. It suffuses the landscape with
colour — huge dark mountains lit up in a livery of purple and grey,
a dull grey sky contrasting with a slash of an estuary or lough silvery
bright below. Many artists have moved here purely because of the quality
of the light.
To sample the best of Connemara’s illuminations — whether
artist, fisherman, hill walker or sloth — you could scarcely do
better than base yourself in Delphi, in an area once belonging to Lord
Sligo.
Delphi is an unlikely name for such a deeply rural destination in the
west of Ireland. At first glance it would seem to have little in common
with the ancient Greek precinct of the same name where the god Apollo
was worshipped. One could chase metaphors in the ancient mountains of
Maamturk, or in the depths of Ireland’s only fjord, Killary Harbour.
But you’d really be better off saying, it’s all Greek to me.
Instead ensconce yourself in the library of the fishing lodge (with attached
spa) at the Delphi Mountain
Resort. Here you can pour yourself a stiff whiskey, sit back in a leather
armchair, and absorb the view of Lough Fin with the long ridge of the
Maumturk Mountains away to the south. This is bleak chic at its best.
Set on 300 acres of forested estate, the tranquility of the surroundings
alone should be more than a tonic for you, never mind the spa treatments.
And the more rugged and windswept the views from your windows, the cosier
you’re bound to feel inside. Which must make the Delphi Mountain
Resort one of the snuggest places going: The organic-luxury-look hotel
is surrounded by Connemara’s completely in-your-face mountains,
sandwiched between Ben Gorm, the Sheefry Hills and the Mweelrea Mountains.
Down at the end of the road are the Twelve Pins or Bens.
At this stylish wilderness retreat, guests can put together their own
programme of activities — pony trekking, surfing, sea kayaking and
dolphin watching, and then partake of the spa programme: Massage, reiki,
facials and classes in t’ai chi, yoga and meditation. This is not
a conventional health farm: Guinness is served on tap, there’s a
full bar in the lodge and you can treat yourself to a full Irish before
taking to the mountains. If the mountain bit sounds a trifle strenuous,
simply admire the mountain views from your recliner in the spa.
If strolling is more your kind of thing, head out the front door and wander
along the Bundorra River towards Doo Lough. Look out for otters (which
you probably won’t see, given their shyness) and Irish dippers (which
you probably will see). Your first intimation of this strange Irish sub-species
is a lemming-like run into the water by a small black bird. But unlike
most birds which run into the water, these ones don’t stop and retreat
at the water’s edge; neither do they swim on the surface. Oddly,
they continue into the depths.
Despite being able to fly and swim, this bird has contrarily chosen to
feed by submerging itself beneath the water, and walking along the river
or lough bed. Truly nature is baroque, and there are few better places
to witness it than on the shores of a Connemara lough.
Rather than searching out the fauna and flora of Connemara you may prefer
to opt for some pampering. In days gone by, pampering in Irish hotels
might mean you’d get an extra slice of toast in the morning. Changed
days now.
Today you can demand massage oils made from the finest Irish moss, sprinkled
with unguents from the far east, picked at sunrise by bare-chested locals,
and applied to your body in rooms which are filled with the scent of amontillado
incense.
Well, OK, I might be exaggerating a bit.
Treatments and therapies are given in darkened, beehive-shaped rooms.
Naturally, scented candles gently glow softly in the recesses of the therapy
studios, but upstairs in the accommodation of the Lodge, the natural light
of Connacht comes filtering through. Oh, and peace is guaranteed —
although the rooms are sumptuous with elegant furnishings, stunning views
and decadent bathrooms, there are no tellies, and mobile phone reception
is iffy at best. However there is free internet access. Oh, and if you
really can’t do without Coronation Street or Sleb Dancing, a television
will be provided.
Roads in Connemara are simple: One or two come into town, and one or two
go out; there are few complications.
From Delphi the road hugs the banks of the Bundorra River, wends along
the shores of Killary Harbour and some six miles later delivers you in
Leenane (or Leenaun) — the name in Irish is Líonán
Cinnmhara, ‘the tide-filling place at the head of the sea’.
The town was the location for the Irish epic The Field, the story of Bull
McCabe. The dark, bleak tale of land dispute is the spiritual obverse
of The Quiet Man’s paddywhackeray.
Sometimes called Sean de Florette, an allusion to the bleak French film
Jean de Florette, the film is remembered in Leenane’s two pubs,
Gaynor’s and Hamilton’s, with photographic stills alongside
autographed portraits of Richard Harris and John Hurt.
The deeply disturbing play, The Beauty Queen Of Leenane by Martin McDonagh,
with its blend of hysterical comedy, grand melodrama, horrifying violence
was also set here.
Evidently the area attracts writers as well as artists.
Changing from melancholy minor key to more jaunty major key, Leenane makes
an ideal place from which to tour the Maumturks, or the splendid viewpoint
of The Devil’s Mother, 2,131 ft up in the Partry Mountains to the
east.
The name of Connemara comes from two possible origins. Conmhaicne Mara,
means Chon Mac, descendants of Chon, by the sea. Who these people were
seems to have been lost in the mists (of which there are plenty in these
parts) of time, and whose name only survives in this one instance.
The other possible origin is Cuain na Mara, the harbours of the sea. Appropriate
though this is, the former option is generally given more credence. But
no matter how it earned its name, Connemara is quintessential Ireland.
To many people the world over, these westerly uplands conjure up an image
of Erin in their mind’s eye. Here at the edge of Europe the rugged
landscape encompasses bogland, mountains, tightly-walled fields and a
dramatic coastline. Stand on your tip-toes and you can almost see New
York.
Nowhere in Ireland resonates with more unchanging tradition than here
in the West, where the days are long and the nights are filled with craic.
As the old saying goes, it’s an hour nearer the sunset than the
rest of Europe.
n Delphi Mountain Resort
tel: +353 95 42987/42208
www.delphiescape.com |
