Today I had help from a very kind local guide, Mike Moroney, who also has a passion for the Beara Breifne Way. He partially accompanied me, and moreover offered me the chance to walk without having to tote my full load. At this point getting a little more practiced at accepting help (provided it doesn’t conflict with my core goal of walking the walk) I accepted and enjoyed the chance to walk an actual section without my turtle-house of a pack.
Oh my god what is this I feel so freeee
While today, like the previous section, involved large amounts of concrete, we trimmed the distance down a bit and the absence of my load made a big difference as well. I felt considerably more able to enjoy the walk, allowing myself to indulge in the slowness I had endeavored to embrace again yesterday.
In this way, I came to Lismire, the first of several small villages along my route. This too was a difference from the day between Millstreet and Newmarket – today included many small towns along the way, which somehow provided a sense of progress that the endless treading over pavement before had lacked.
On our way out of town, a woman strolled alongside us briefly, and spoke highly of visiting the Kilmacow graveyard a little ways down the road. I added it to my mental list, but first…
I arrived at the cemetary soon enough however, and though it was not really part of my route I decided I would take a turn in and look around. I am glad I did.
Kilmacow (remember how Kil/Cill means church in Irish? relevant!) apparently refers to the remnants of a larger monastic complex dating back to the 6th century. The graveyard is housed in the central of three concentric enclosures that were once part of a single larger set of structures. It also housed some of my favorite Celtic crosses out of all the ones that I have come across so far.
It had been some time since the grasses inside the graveyard had been tended, and spring had been at work. As I walked slowly about the yard, I waded through bluebells and buttercups, long grasses sweeping up to my thighs in places.
The map and the woman we had spoken to in town both alluded to a holy well nearby, so I set out in search of it. I did not find it, but I came across a number of other worthwhile sights.
Finally I turned and made my way back to the main road, forging on to my next destination and the transition it marked… (continued in next post)