Posts Tagged With: Galway

Man of Aran

Posted on April 29, 2015 by singersong

What is it about islands? Why do they have such appeal to us? All around the world they are treasured as special. Sometimes the residents are fiercely protective. In Australia we have many that hold a singular place and I was lucky enough to live on one such of these – Magnetic Island on Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. There are others though; Rottnest Island, where you can’t live but it is still very dear to the heart of Perth people, or Kangaroo Island off South Australia, or the beautiful Lord Howe Island among them. Ireland has a few too, such as Tory, Achill, Skellig and of course the Aran Islands.

Mention the Aran Islands and you immediately have my attention. The place has a mysterious lure. Despite knowing little about it (except that it is where the Clancy Brothers got their jumpers from and one of the most omnipresent tunes in sessions around the world is named after one of the Islands) it was a place I felt I must visit. I have been on two separate occasions. First, on a freezing summer’s day in July 2014, to Inisheer for an overnight stay; and more recently over three glorious sunny, warm days in April 2015. That’s Irish weather for you – freezing in Summer and hot in Spring!

The Islands are accessed either from Galway or Doolin, in my case for both trips I took the boat from Doolin, half an hour from my home in Caherush. My first visit was a spontaneous decision based on the fact there was blue sky in the morning. Of course by the time the boat left the weather had turned and the squally rain and howling wind off the Atlantic made for a very rough half hour crossing which took over an hour as we were buffeted by giant waves. At one point we stopped in the middle of the ocean in a futile attempt to retrieve a feral buoy. This was in contrast to my trip to Inis Mór when the sea was mirror calm with not a ripple. So I saw the islands in its various moods.

Technically the islands are part of Galway, but geographically, geologically and culturally they belong to Clare as the three Aran Islands are an extension of the Burren. They all have that wild inspiring landscape that I found so enriching in north Clare and that I have blogged about before. https://singersongblog.wordpress.com/2014/06/20/the-burren/

https://singersongblog.wordpress.com/2014/08/29/the-burren-again/

So back to my first question. With the Aran Islands, is it that inconvenience mixed with expectation that getting there involves that makes it attractive to visitors? Or that feeling that once there you are completely cut off (well maybe not now with smartphones). Or the slower pace? How would it be to actually live there?

Of course many do and Melissa and Johnny Gillan and their five children are among them. Melissa is from Maine and married an Irishman from Aran who after their second child convinced her to leave the States and start a new life on Inis Mór. Melissa tells the story way better than I could on her blog (which is how we met) http://thearanartisan.com/2014/11/08/i-live-in-aran/. I have never seen anyone happier. She now has five kids and an enviable lifestyle where she has created a paradise – a garden that sustains her family within this harsh environment and is moving towards her dream of starting a business based on this. The whole family is involved, with the kids nurturing the garden and animals with a sense of pride. Her philosophy is captured by the layout of the garden beds which spell the word LOVE and which was revealed with delight by her kids after an enthusiastic guided tour. I was invited to dinner there one night, which comprised razor clams gathered on the shore, a tuna steak from a fish caught by Johnny’s brother off the coast, potatoes, carrots, kale, rhubarb crumble and a parsnip cake. All from the garden and made with skill and affection. The kids embrace the lifestyle. I was reminded a little of the zest for living my own kids had on Magnetic Island for the three years we lived there. Melissa and Johnny may not be your typical Aran family, I don’t know, but I also met Cóil and Grainne, both young islanders who gave up their day to show me around their island with an obvious pride. I was greeted with nothing but warmth and hospitality.

Both the Islands I visited seem to have somewhat different characters. Inis Mór (the Big Island) has sweeping landscapes with hardly a tree; massive limestone pavements and steep cliffs. It doesn’t seem heavily populated but there are about 900 people spread across the entire island. Inis Oírr is smaller with about a third of that but the houses are more concentrated around the main settlement of Inveragh and the fields as defined by the stone walls seem smaller. Both have the same sparse pasture, lush in places barren in others. Inis Mór has more tourists and a lot more bicycles but it is easy to avoid the day trippers by starting early. The evenings everywhere are gloriously empty of people except for the inevitable craic behind the walls of Ti Whatty or Rory’s.

Inisheer. Stone walls and fields

Inisheer. Drystone walls and one room cottage

Inisheer in the morning light

Inisheer

Inisheer. Off to fiddle lesson?

Inis Mor. Coping with the elements

Inis Mor.

Inis Mor

There is plenty for the tourist. On Inis Mór, bike hire is popular and the circuit to the Dún Aonghasa fort is a well-worn trail. But off the beaten track are some amazing sites such as the Black Fort, the Seven Churches and Teampull Bheanáin, reputedly the smallest church in the world measuring around 3m x 2m. This unusual church can be seen from all around the island and was the best location I found for viewing the unique Burren flora. Then there is the spectacular Worm Hole or Poll na bPeist. It is a hole in the rock platform that looks like it has been sliced out by the hand of Fin McCool himself. There is a more prosaic explanation that relates to erosion along mutually orthogonal jointing but let’s stick with Fin McCool, I think! Connected with this is a blow hole where the back pressure from the hole causes the sea to shoot up periodically higher than the cliff. This is an awe-inspiring place that has been put on the tourist map by the Red Bull people who have filmed one of their diving videos here.

Inis Mor. Teampull Bheanáin

Inis Mor. Blowhole at the Worm Hole. Poll na bPeist

The Islands, and in particular Inis Mór is well known for the excellent preservation of their megalithic circle forts. Dún Aonghasa gets the most attention, but others such as Black Fort are just as interesting and much quieter. These forts are fascinating and here on Aran occupy a coastal positon where the cliffs are used as one line of defence and a semicircular stone rampart as the other enclosing a headland within which was a settlement. There were also a number of outer walls in some cases and unique and spectacularly well preserved examples of chevaux de frise. These are fields of sharp limestone lugged into place and designed to make cavalry or foot progress difficult and retreat impossible. They were placed about 30m away from the wall as this was the range of hand thrown projectiles of the time. The original structures at Dún Aonghasa appear to date from around 1000 BC which places them near the end of the Bronze Age. The famous portal tomb at Poulnabrone on the mainland is much older (3,800BC) as are other tombs on Aran which date to 1850 BC. This first period of settlement at Dún Aonghasa ended about 700BC but then the site was added to and inhabited during medieval times and later. I spent hours at these forts mesmerised by the ambience and the anicientness (if that is a word!)

Inis Mor. Dun Aengus fort

Inis Mor. Dun Aengus fort. Cheval de frise

Inis Mor. Dun Aengus fort

Inis Mor. Rock platform Dun Aengus fort

Inis Mor. Inside the inner wall Dun Aengas

Inis Mor. Inner wall. Dun Aengus fort, showing remarkable stone work

Inis Mor. Dun Aengus fort. Stone was quarried from the steep face near the wall. Note the crack!

Inis Mor. Black Fort. Cheval de frise with glacial erratic

Inis Mor. Black Fort showing walls of medieval houses

Inis Mor. Black Fort from inside the enclosure

Inis Mor. Black Fort and cheval de frise

Inis Mor. Black Fort and cheval de fries

The landscape helps make this a unique world. I have talked here and elsewhere about the typical Burren landforms, but I should mention the widespread glacial erratics, dropped by melting glaciers. Well that is the scientific explanation. Local legend has it that they were left by giants who were throwing stones at each other (Fin McCool again!) Doesn’t this make sense? How else could boulders of granite from Connemara get onto the Aran Islands? The Burren is known world wide for its flora with its rare combination of alpine and Mediterranean plants. Spring is the best time to see it and in the three days I was on Inis Mor I witnessed an explosion of life with the spring gentians and orchids bursting into flower. The wildlife does not disappoint either with seals, water birds, birds of prey and dolphins all on show at various times.

Inis Mor. Glacial erratics near Black Fort

Limestone Pavement Inis Mor

Inis Mor. Burren landscape

Inis Mor. Typical Burren stone wall. How does it stay up?

Inis Mor. Near Black Fort. Crumbling coastline

Beach near Kilronan. Inis Mor

On each of my visits to Aran I was resigned to having nights without music but on each occasion I discovered the craic. On Inis Oírr I met Mícheál O’hÁlmháin, the leading musical identity on the Island and members of his family and we played in the hotel until the small hours and on Inis Mór I met three French guys, Alex, Mathieu and Victor who turned out to be amazing guitarists and with Michelle, Lea and Rom from Switzerland we had two nights of Celtic meets Gypsy Jazz meets 70s rock meets Europop! On Inis Oírr I also stumbled onto an Irish language summer camp. It was held in the hall and I was drawn by the distinctive sound of irish dancing. The front door was open but what I saw was not what I expected. It was full with teenagers maybe 150 of them having the time of their lives. They were playing a game of musical statues to the recorded music of a ceili band. I stayed and watched as they threw themselves into a succession of musical and dance numbers including a country and western song about Connemara in Irish, some updated versions of set dances, line dancing and some pop songs. I was impressed that here was a camp dedicated to preserving the Irish language and culture but prepared to do it in a modern way that was relevant to today’s youth but still respectful of the heritage. And then to top all that while on Inis Mór and thanks to an invitation from Melissa I played with the local Island kids at the regular Comhaltas gathering with Galway Bay as a backdrop.

There is a lot more I could say about these Islands but by now I think I have probably lost all my readers (If you have read this far please let me know – it would be nice to know if anyone reads beyond the first paragraph!), so I will let the pictures talk from here. Just a few more images that give a taste of these islands that I am sure I will return to regularly.

Inisheer. Fisherman returns escorted by dolphin

Inis Mor. Stairway to Heaven?

Categories: Real Ireland, Wild Ireland | Tags: Aran Islands, Black Fort, Burren, Clare, Cliffs, Dun Aengus, Galway, Inis Oirr, Inish Mor, Inisheer, Inishmore, Ireland, photography, Sessions, traditional music, travel | 4 Comments

Wild Connemara

Posted on December 22, 2014 by singersong

My last post was on my musical journey through Connemara and Galway. In this post I want to concentrate on the spectacular physical beauty of this part of Ireland.

Connemara is an ill-defined area in the west of Galway incorporating mountains, seascapes and bogs. It is hard not to talk about it without resorting to clichés – wild, rugged, unspoilt; but this is a part of Ireland that almost defies description, it is so beautiful. So I have tried to capture its beauty with the lens. A tall order.

I have visited it three times – just driving through, but on each occasion I was lucky enough to be blessed with patches of sunshine which displays the hills and lakes at their glorious best. Sometimes achingly so.

My first visit was in June in the height of summer, then again in August and most recently in December. As the mood changes with the arrival of the sun, so it changes with the seasons. In summer shades of green and grey predominate as the lush grass covers the slopes. In winter it turns to stark reds and browns but is no less beautiful. These photos (I know there’s a lot but it was hard to leave any out) I hope capture the things that make Connemara special to me – the rugged landscapes, the birds, the ponies, the placid lakes, mist, snow, rocks, bogs, turf and the built landscape, from stone walls and shepherd’s huts to Abbeys. But they also serve as a warning that we must do what we can to preserve such treasures. I was shocked to see the encroachment of wind farms into this wilderness.

I will return to Connemara.

Categories: Wild Ireland | Tags: Clifden, Connemarra, Galway, Ireland, Irish music, landscape, photography, travel | 6 Comments

The Connemara Hills are alive with the Sound of Music (and Galway too)

Posted on December 20, 2014 by singersong

Last weekend I headed for Galway and Connemara. I had had a previous brief visit to Connemara when I attended the TraidPhicnic in Spiddal, but never Galway and I have to say I loved it.

The immediate reason was to attend a Master Class and House Concert by Maurice Lennon at Bridge Barker’s house deep in the wilds of remote Connemara. A great initiative from Bridge to open her house for this – hopefully the first of many.

The trip up from Clare was treacherous with my first experience of driving in sub-zero temperatures and on slippery roads. There was definitely no hurrying. I collected Maurice in Glaway on the way and became so engrossed in the conversation that we managed to end up on a detour along the shores of Lough Corib, that meant the trip took an extra hour. Once we got there the weather was kind enough, so that while Maurice took the kids’ class, I went for a short walk with Vince, Bridge’s partner. They live with their family in a stone cottage that, chameleon-like, blends into the rocky Connemara landscape. Bridge tells me it has been in her family for generations. They have turned a traditional stone cottage into a wonderfully warm and welcoming family home. Adjacent is an abandoned cottage, apparently formerly that of a tailor. It seems to have been empty for decades but still stands remarkably intact as a reminder of the hardship that must have been life in these parts. There was no road and customers would have to ride up the rocky ridges to be fitted. The house has a central room with a large fire place and a door on either side. One can imagine this was the kitchen and the centre of family life. Maybe even where music was played. On either side of this is what would have been the bedrooms each with a smaller fire. Relics of a tough existence are everywhere including bottles and empty containers, an old Singer sewing machine stand and empty and derelict hand crafted furniture. The roof is made of timbers nailed together and filled with bog material and then presumably covered in thatch but now corrugated iron. The windows small anyway are almost completely blocked with stone allowing only a tiny opening to minimise the ingress of rain and wind but making the house very dark. There were no windows on the western and southern sides speaking eloquently as to where the weather comes from. A marvellous window into a past world but not too far distant from the reality of living here now.

Nearby in the rocky bog-covered landscape was a delightful creek with water cascading over granite boulders and flowing through the brown tufts of grass, dotted with patches of bright green where richer glacial tills have provided more fertile ground. Numerous walled fields provide evidence of a much more intensive agriculture on the slopes of the barren hills.

This area was a renowned location for the manufacture of poteen, the famed liquor made traditionally from malted barley but later from corn or potatos. Poteen manufacture was and is of course illegal and so it prospered in remote areas like Connemara where unwelcome visitors could be seen coming for miles. It is said that from the top of the hill behind the house you could see someone coming from Oughterard, 20km away as the crow flies. Vince showed me an old still, one of four in the immediate area. These are used to build a turf fire and heat the wash for several days while guards stood watch ready to respond to anyone attracted by the smoke. The quality of the poteen was highly variable and it needed a fair bit of skill. A bad batch is said to cause blindness. I was given a taste by a fiddler friend when I visited Cork City recently, and I have to say it was terrific. Sure packed a punch though.

As the misty rain set in and hid the snow-capped hills in the distance we returned in time for me to join Maurice for the workshop. There were seven of us and it was a delight. Plenty of good advice on how to hold the bow and how to get a better sound and we learned a couple of Maurice’s own tunes in an intensive hour and a half. Then a quick trip to the nearest pub (about 20 minutes away) for a cleansing ale and some fresh air with Maurice. I don’t want to offend anyone who may come from this part of the world but you could hardly say we were welcomed, or if we were it was with suspicion. There was no small talk as the half dozen or so punters went about their business as If we weren’t there. Slightly uncomfortable.

Returning for some tunes and some curry we then settled in for a concert in the front room of Bridge’s house, in front of a roaring fire, comprising a couple of hours of solo fiddle and viola from Maurice. There was some inspired playing. We all joined in for a couple of sets at the end. Really a special night with the stone walls reflecting a brilliant sound. Those who travelled into the Connemara wilderness were well rewarded.

I was very kindly put up by Bridge and even before the scrambled eggs were put on the stove next morning I joined Bridge and her talented daughter Siofra in some tunes around the kitchen table. When Maurice arrived back from his lodgings he joined in. A true ‘kitchen session’.

I had decided to spend a couple of extra days in Galway and catch some of the sessions of which so many people had raved. So dragging ourselves away at lunch time I returned with Maurice who was also staying in Galway. There was a slight detour as I stopped every now and then for some photos and a further delay as we caught the second half of the Manchester United – Liverpool game (won by Man U) in a pub in Oughterrard.

Arriving late in the afternoon I went on a search for music. I ended up meeting fellow Aussie friend , Alice at Taaffe’s Bar where there is a 5:30 session every day. So civilised. Why don’t they do this in Ennis? This was the first of three sessions I attended that night and over the three days I was there I went to eight. There was a memorable session late on Sunday at the Old Forge where we were entertained among other things by a Santa-clad mini-skirted drag queen doing an Irish step dance with a packet of Tayto’s in one hand. Brilliant. It was great craic everywhere and hopefully the pictures give some idea of it. I met some wonderful people with as much passion for the music as I see in Ennis. Plenty of blow-ins who have made Galway home. As well as Alice from Oz, there is Ana from Brazil, Brandon from England, Anders from Netherlands, Patrick and Sean from San Francisco, and others from Spain, Germany and the odd Irishman. Lots of interaction too between the musicians and the punters, many of them tourists hearing Irish music for the first time and having a fabulous time. I was kindly invited to a great house session on Tuesday, led by Sean Flanagan, a box player, designed for intermediate players to learn and share tunes. Brilliant idea. I returned to Ennis renewed and inspired and vowing to visit Galway again soon. Thanks to everyone who made me feel so welcome.

The sun shone briefly on Monday and I took the opportunity to go for a drive through the magnificent Connemara hills to Clifden. Glorious. I will post some photos from these travels soon in another blog. The photos here are all from near Bridge’s house or in Galway City.

Distant snow, Connemara

Tailor’s cottage, Connemara

Tailor’s Cottage, Connemara

Inside Tailor’s Cottage, Connemara

Poteen still, Connemara

Cascade, Connemara

Barn, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Adult Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Adult students Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Kitchen session at Bridge Barker’s, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Bridge Barker. Kitchen Session

Hungry sheep, Connemara

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway. Sandra

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway. Alice

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway. Happy listeners

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway

Session. Tig Coili, Galway

Session, Taaffe's Pub, Galway. Maurice Lennon

Session, Tig Coili, Galway. Maurice Lennon

Session, Tig Coili, Galway

Session, Old Forge Pub, Galway

Session, Old Forge Pub, Galway. Dancing Santa

Session, Garvey’s Pub Galway

Session, Garvey’s Pub, Galway

Visitors from Germany, Garvey’s Pub Galway

House Session, Galway

Another session at Taaffe’s Galway

Categories: Sessions, Stories, Trad Irish Music | Tags: Connemarra, Festival, fiddle, Galway, Ireland, Irish music, Master class, Maurice Lennon. House Concert, music, photography, Sessions, traditional music, travel | Leave a comment

Joe Cooley and Willie Keane Weekends

Posted on October 29, 2014 by singersong

This is why I am in Ireland!

But I did have a dilemma this last weekend . It was October Bank Holiday weekend and there were two Festivals within striking distance. Solution – go to both.

So Saturday I headed off to the Joe Cooley Weekend at Gort about an hour’s drive from Caherush. Gort is just over the border in Co Galway and a pretty town it is. There is a magnificent monastic ruin just down the road and the home of Lady Gregory nearby. The streets are unusually wide and it is situated around a spacious square with a number of pubs, all within a quick jog of each other. Necessary to avoid the wind and the rain! A perfect place for a Festival.

Where do you start when you arrive at 1:00 pm? Well you park the car and you wind the window down and listen and within moments you hear the strain of fiddles and accordions coming from inside O’Donnell’s Pub. So with my travelling companions, Danny and Nicolle, we headed in and immediately the circle widened to accommodate us. This doesn’t always happen and when it does you know you are in for a good session. It was led by box player Jim, who I am sure is the happiest man in Ireland, smiling and whooping his way through tune after tune and engaging all and sundry in continuous banter, and there were some older players and a good smattering of the next generation. So the music was a great mix and at a good pace. Plates of toasted ham cheese and tomato sandwiches kept arriving and even a special ‘order’ for vegetarian, Nicolle!

Around 3:00 we headed off to Sullivan’s Hotel for the highlight of the programme. This was the attempt on the Guinness World Record for the Largest Irish Band. The record is something around 270 held by nearby Kilfenora in Clare and only set earlier this year. There was palpable excitement as scores of musicians gathered outside the ballroom with their whistles, fiddles, banjos and pipes. Even a cahone (does that count?). Fevered last minute run-throughs of the chosen tunes created a somehow engaging dissonance, much as the expectation created by an orchestra tuning up. There was sheet music for those unsure of how the polkas went.

We all filed in shepherded by hi-vis vested marshals who almost outnumbered us, to take our places in rows of seats laid out for us. It looked like they were expecting around 300. There were cameras and videos including Irish TV there to record the event. Initially there was optimism but as the queues diminished and only half the seats were filled it became apparent to all that this was not to be the day. The scheduled start time of 4.00 pm went, perhaps in an attempt to scour the pubs for more musicians, and finally, it was after 4.30 when an excited announcer surprisingly proclaimed over the microphone “Congratulations! You have broken the record!” Looking at the empty seats I was a bit confused. “The largest Irish band in Connacht!”. There was excited applause as the crowd basked in the glory of being an ‘almost-Guiness World Record’ holder. To confirm the record we of course had to play and after a run through off we went launching into Maggie in the Woods. The sound was fantastic and it was actually quite thrilling to play with such a large ensemble, roughly in time and close enough to being in tune. There was genuine enthusiasm in the playing and in the reception from the assembled crowd, many of them proud parents. Then there were more tunes (not rehearsed!) and even a set dance. Was this the world record for the biggest Ceili Band playing to a set dance? Perhaps just in Connacht! Anyway it was all great crack and we queued up again on the way out to get a certificate to record the Attempt. There’s always next year!

The search resumed for the ‘killer’ session. So back to O’Donnelly’s where there was a new crowd of musicians but equally welcoming and then to Johnny Ward’s. This session was in a separate room with no bar and was as close to a house session as you could get. It was unfortunately marred by an extremely drunk bodhran player, with a Walton’s instrument and while it had a lovely celtic design the music did not match as he proceeded to beat it mercilessly and a whistle player who certainly made his presence felt. I watched as this man, already finding it hard to stand up demolished his next Guinness in two swigs. Despite these ‘distractions’ which contributed to a sometimes messy sound there were moments of absolute magic in the music. Concertina player, Patrick and a couple of box players and a banjo drove the session and I provided the only fiddle – an unusual event. Tunes were played fast but with a real skip which gave the music a lovely rhythmic lift. It was absolutely fantastic to play along with. After this session fizzled and a plate of Taco Chips from Supermac’s there was another great session at Sullivan’s populated mainly by Galway musicians and three hours went so quickly as we cycled through a familiar array of reels and jigs. Bed was very welcome at 3:00am after close to 12 hours of playing.

Sunday morning arrived, with all good intentions to head to the Willie Keane Weekend at Doonbeg (about ten minutes drive to the south of Caherush) in time for the Trad Breakfast, I have to admit the late night proved too much of a barrier and I didn’t get there until 2pm! There was music in four pubs on the main street of the village, famous more for the Donald Trump Resort a couple of kilometres out of town than anything else. But this weekend it was all about the music. Some of the best music you will hear and most of it coming from the unsung and the unheralded. Highlights for me included:

A wonderful set from Tony Linanne and Padraig Mac Doncha (in an Eb session) at Madigan’s, the brilliance of Andrew MacNamara and Mark Donnelly, the surprise packet that was Scaradaragh (a group of Sliabh Luachra musicians from North Cork), just so much fun to play with – bring on those polkas!, the brilliance of the young musicians from Tulla and Kilmaley (Amy & Gearoid McNamara and Yvonne & Pamela Queally, joined by friends including the Murphy sisters from Dublin) and then a great exhibition of sean nos dancing to wind up Sunday night.

On my way home after a fabulous day, I popped into the bar at Tubridy’s to the sight of a table of well primed revellers enjoying the music of Roisin & Conor Broderick and Deirdre Winrow. One of them saw me come in with my fiddle on my back and yelled. “Here he is. I have been reading about you” Taken off guard I asked what she meant. “In the brochure – you’re the fiddler!” They then engaged me in a random conversation in which it became apparent they were down from London for a weekend of golf at the Trump Resort. Luckily they didn’t stay long and on her way out I asked the girl what she meant. She explained that it was me in the programme as a “fiddler’ from 10pm and they were waiting for me. I looked to the corner where Dierdre was quite expertly pumping out a reel on her fiddle and pointed out “but there’s already a fiddler here.” “No” she said in all seriousness “that’s a violinist!” And she retreated with her companions to their five star room in the Lodge at Trumps…..

One other quick anecdote. Sitting, engrossed in my playing at the Igoe Inn (great name!) I felt a hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. “Kevin Crawford” was all she said. I looked around to see a middle aged lady standing over me. “What about him?” I whispered back. [Kevin, of course, is the well know flute player from Lunasa]. “Is he here?” she said seriously. “I haven’t seen him”, was all I could think to say and apparently satisfied she wandered off. I later found out she had done this with every musician in the place! He should be very pleased he has such a devoted fan.

Anyway, home by 1.00 am after another ten hours of almost continuous sessioning on top of the previous day. So I think I put in a good shift. A quiet couple of weeks now but really looking forward to the Ennis Festival coming up. Stay tuned.

Here are some pictures from the weekend. …….

Registering for the World Record Attempt

Toasted Cheese and Tomato Sandwich

Danny and Nicolle lead a session

Optimism

Last Minute Practice

Filling up

Expectancy

The biggest Irish Band in Connaught!

Mick Minogue on his ancient goatskin

Session at Johnny Walsh’s Gort

Session at Sullivan’s in Gort

Alice from Galway via Australia

Danny from Australia

fingers

I was there!

Tony Linanne and friends, Doonbeg

Session at Igoe Inn, Doonbeg

Sliabh Luhraca comes to Clare.

Andrew MacNamara and friends, Doonbeg

Igoe Inn

Great craic

Categories: Festivals, Trad Irish Music | Tags: Clare, Doonbeg, Festival, Galway, Gort, Ireland, Irish music, Joe Cooley, music, photography, Sessions, traditional music, travel, Willie Keane | Leave a comment

A New Home?

Posted on August 21, 2014 by singersong

It’s been so long since I blogged and so much has happened. The really big news for me which I got today is that I have approval to stay in Ireland for the next 12 months. The journey which I started three months ago is not over. I can now plan for the future. Buy a car and rent a house for starters. And see if Ireland is really for me. Everyone (and I mean everyone!) tells me I won’t be able to handle the winter. We’ll see.

In the last six weeks I have been on the Festival trail. A journey that has taken me through Clare (Willie Week, Tulla and Feakle Festivals and the Clare Fleadh at Kilaloe) to Galway (TradPhicnic at Spiddal), Sligo (Fleadh Cheoil and Tubercurry), Leitrim (Drumshanbo) and Mayo (Achill Island summer school). I have attended concerts, lectures, workshops, recitals and of course sessioned relentlessly. Indeed every day for the past 97 days! Is there a Guinness record for that?

It has been a wonderful experience but the festival season has come to an end. I haven’t dared look until I knew what my visa status was but I am sure there will be some fantastic events ahead of me. Perhaps more space in between them now!

It just occurred to me that the reason I have come here is to learn fiddle and while I have played fiddle every day, sometimes for 10 hours in a day I have not done any ‘practice’. Playing in sessions is not practice. I have hundreds of hours of recordings of workshops, sessions and concerts to sort. Great material for new tunes.

Of course I ’learnt’ heaps of new tunes at the Schools, from James Kelly, Paddy Ryan, John Daly, Liam O’Connor, Tola Custy, Siobhan Peoples, Martin Hayes, Eileen O’Brien and Yvonne Kane, but am having trouble recalling any of them. So there’s a lot of work there for me. Likewise I have literally thousands of photos to sort from the Festivals and from my travels through Mayo and Connemarra as well as here in Clare.

I have met some wonderful people and have some great stories to tell, so bear with me and I will start posting again when I can.

A quick thankyou to everyone who has supported me and encouraged me in what I am doing over here. I won’t name you all but you know who you are. I have been warmly accepted into the musical and broader community here in Clare and am really looking forward to the year(s) ahead.

In the meantime with my mind firmly on where I might live for the next year I have identified a few likely properties. The views can’t be faulted!

Stay Tuned…..