North Country Girl

Life moves at pace...but not in Ireland.  After a lengthy hiatus, I'm very relieved to report that the Emerald Isle hasn't changed that much.  I should point out that this was our first ever visit north of the border and I did wonder whether our memories of the Republic would be matched by our experiences in Northern Ireland.  Ultimately, the divisions highlighted by "The Troubles" on the surface at least, appear to have dissipated and we took comfort in the fact that no borders - physical or otherwise - can contain the beauty of Ireland and the warmth of its people.  In magic, charm, hospitality and pursuit of "the craic" Ireland will always be united.  

To avoid tarnishing these still fresh memories, I'm going to gloss over the stresses of our journey there, other than to say we will never again fly with easyJet or hire a car through Avis, a subsidiary of Budget Car Rental.

Instead, I'm going to largely let the photos do the talking...adding a little textual colour here and there.  In this post, we'll explore our immediate surroundings, Tollymore Forest and the closest town, Newcastle, situated on a stunning stretch of coastline.

Approach to Cottage Farm

Cottage Farm - Mourne Mountains - Cottages for Rent in Newry, Mourne and Down, Northern Ireland, United Kingdom - Airbnb

The link above will take you to our home for the week.  I can't recommend this place enough.  Sean, the owner, turned up one evening  for a pre-arranged visit and took us for a walk up the hill behind the cottage on his private farmland, giving us numerous tips on the places to visit.  I therefore have Sean to thank for my subsequent dusk encounter with a Pine Marten.  For once, I decided not to jeopardise the encounter by pulling out my camera and instead, allowed myself to be fully present in the moment.  We eyed each other for a couple of magical minutes, before he disappeared behind a stone wall.

Lowing cattle, sheep, swooping swallows, bats and a shy, solitary black cat were our only companions here, in the shade of the Mourne mountains in County Down.

It's impossible to avoid the black stuff over here.  (It really does taste better in Ireland).  This property had its very own Guinness post box.

Tollymore Forest, covering an area of 630 hectares, was just down the road.  This place is ethereal and littered with garden follies, including the gothic style gate arches, all showcasing the influence of designer Thomas Wright of Durham (1711-1786), who was a friend of Lord Clanbrassil, owner of Tollymore at that time.

A walk along the Shimna river is marked by many curiosities, natural and artificial - rocky outcrops, bridges, grottos (including "The Hermitage" below) and caves.

God's influence is never a million miles away in Ireland, as evidenced by this chalk scrawled message inside a tiny woodland shelter.

The obligatory cabin the woods.  Spooky when the light is fading fast and you haven't a clue where you are!

I picked up this heavy woollen jumper by Barbour in a charity shop in Chester last year.  As warm as it was on the first couple of days of our trip, the temperature soon plummeted and it served me well on our evening walks in the forest.

Newcastle was full of old school charm, with its big wheel, fairground, caravan park and numerous ice cream parlours.  But with those mountains dominating the skyline and a population of around 8,000, there was a real community spirit.  People took the time to chat, the town looked well cared for and the two bars we frequented during our stay really delivered on warm Irish hospitality.

A wander through the grave yard.

Architectural periods and details rubbing along together...

...and just a hint of Wes Anderson courtesy of this outdoor leisure pool complex.

The entire wall of this sweet shop was adorned with Love Heart sweets featuring common Irish phrases.

Oh and how often do we see shop signage like this today in the UK - without it being a ghost sign or no longer relevant; a relic above a boarded up shop front?  Locally, Beatties, the much loved Wolverhampton Department store, closed for good in 2018 after 146 years of trading.  Even Jenners, the swish Princes Street, Edinburgh department store we used to visit on our annual trips to the Fringe Festival, closed its doors in 2020.

Well Wadsworth of Newcastle is still going strong!

Another day, another forest park.  This time, Castlewellan Forest Park, the entrance dominated by this rather splendid Victorian castle.  The castle itself is not generally open to the plebs/public, but we were keen to explore in the sunshine.

Still, it warrants a potted history.  The original estate, which is situated north of the foothills of the Mourne Mountains, dates back to medieval times.  The Annesleys, who bought the Manor of Castlewllan in 1741, can apparently date their line back to a nobleman who came to England at the time of the Norman Conquest.  However, the Irish branch of the family seems to have begun with Sir Francis Annesley, employed in Ireland by James I, who acquired land there in various counties by both Royal Grant and purchase.  Over the generations, the Annesleys improved the estate and, in 1750, laid out the nearby town of Castlewellan, as well as the formal park.

In the early 1800s, the second Earl built himself a summer villa known as The Cottage on the north shore of the Castlewellan lake (demolished in 1861) and around this time the surrounding parkland was transformed into the more naturalistic landscape we see today.  It's thought that this was undertaken by John Sutherland (c. 1745-1826), the most celebrated Irish landscape architect of the time.  However, the Annesley family lived elsewhere rather than at Castlewellan and it wasn't until a generation later when the 4th Earl, Hugh's elder brother William (1838-1874), built the Scottish baronial style castle on the shores of the lake (between 1856-1858), that the family moved there.

Itching to explore, we completed a circuit of the lake...

...before entering the Peace Maze, planted in 2000 and representing the path to a peaceful future in Northern Ireland.  The maze is one of the largest permanent hedge mazes in the world, comprising 6000 Yew trees and forming around 2 miles of winding pathways.

We immediately went our separate ways in a race to the centre.  Gareth, who in real life, has no sense of direction, was first.  Obviously his whole counter intuitive way of thinking works wonders in a fantasy maze setting.  I'm not bitter!

On the way home, we passed one of many derelict buildings from yesteryear.  Many are in a much worse state than this, but are rarely touched, partly due to the costs of renovation, but also as the Irish value them as important examples of the island's social history.  

Just look at that patina!  

I'll sign off now, but I'll return very soon with scenic roads, St Patrick's trail, and Titanic tales!

A Mist Makes Things Wonderful

It's not been a particularly inspiring few week weather wise.  I like winter, but even I have struggled to muster any enthusiasm about the relentless damp, cold and flat white skies that have greeted me most mornings recently.  So imagine my excitement when the mist descended!  This blog title is a quote from Oscar Wilde and I couldn't agree more.

I like drama in my weather.  For example, I can cope with a little wind and rain (coming home is even more welcoming after getting rained on).  I love the blinding light and beauty of a covering of virgin snow or glittering hoar frost on the landscape.  Incidentally, check out this little video taken in between blogs after one such frost.  I've never experienced a thaw like it - shards of ice falling from the trees.

https://www.tiktok.com/@winter_peach_photography/video/7191540452401761541

As for mist, it's really what many people associate with the UK - a patchwork quilt of a miniaturised landscape covered by a blanket of visibility compromising moisture.  It exemplifies our reliably unreliable climate and adds mystery and intrigue worthy of a tale from Arthur Conan Doyle.

I'll go with the mystery theme for reasons which will become apparent.  We headed out into the mist for a 5 mile walk through an ever changing landscape, starting with a cluster of silver birch trees.  I was later thrilled that this image was selected and featured on the Instagram account Capturing Britain.

We were joined for some of the route by a very vocal Robin.  I thought he was being friendly, but knowing how territorial they can be, I suspect he was warning us to keep moving.

The gnarled branches of the naked trees contrasted beautifully with the mist pervading the atmosphere.

Further along we encountered a crop of the tallest pine trees, criss-crossed by mountain bike tracks.  Here I insisted Gareth pose.  He's still at the breaking in stage with his DMs, hence the loosened laces.

We climbed 121 steps...

....and arrived on top of a hill, spotting this rather intriguing house in the distance...

....before picking up our original route and descending a densely wooded hillside.  It was here that we encountered this once inhabited building carved into the sandstone.  It's clear that work is ongoing to make it safe for visitors.

Feeling emboldened by this, we continued.  No one knows when these caves were first inhabited, but they remained so until the 1950s when the properties were condemned by the local authority and the occupiers forced to leave.

The area just beyond looked very Hobbiton, apart from the sandstone carvings...

...and graffiti.  

We're the more respectful rule breakers.  Clearly this place is an open secret locally.  Hopefully one day it will be open to the public and afforded the protection it deserves.

Back at home, the hyacinths have flowered and the fragrance is off the charts.

I wonder if Marg smells the same?

I've made a few acquisitions, some old, some new (more on those soon).  When buying new I always focus on quality, durability and timelessness, not wishing to contribute to the ever increasing clothes mountain.  Having called into a local supermarket the other day, I was horrified at the amount of clothing on sale.  Even worse, the ridiculously crammed sale rails - even as we near the end of January.  Aren't manufacturers getting the message?  They are clearly over-producing.  There can't possibly be the demand to justify this level of production.  It's obscene. 

My "old" is probably not so old, but a black and white jacket I know I will wear and wear again.  Here, in my usual hurried selfie, I've teamed it with some black cord dungarees (old) over a black and white spotted thermal polo neck (second hand), a vintage tribal necklace and recycled cashmere gloves.  Slippers just out of shot.  Note to self:  I must really work on my outfit photos.

This weekend was the UK's Big Garden Birdwatch.  I layered up and headed out into the garden with a de-caf coffee, the camera and a notebook, for an hour's solitude.  The temperature was around 5 degrees, but the damp conditions made it feel a good deal colder.  I did smile to myself when I wondered what my 18 year old self would have thought of this decision.  She probably wouldn't have been up and available for comment.

Last year the conditions were pretty similar, but I saw very little bird activity.  This year, the garden was alive with birdsong, principally from the resident Robins.  

I also counted more birds this time, including a brief sighting of a Song Thrush and an even briefer glimpse of a bird I've been unable to identify as a result.

Blue Tit

  

Robin

House Sparrow

Male Blackbird

The remainder of my week has been dominated by a little mother/daughter trip booking, mood boards, phone calls, admin and light reflectors!  The styles for my forthcoming photo shoots are quite different from each other.  The first is very romantic and Nordic in style.  For the second, David Bowie is my muse.

In an effort to inspire and spur myself on, I'll leave you with the latter; this image and quote, firmly and metaphorically pinned to my mood board.

I'm off to watch the remainder of the truly brilliant but bizarre Everything, Everywhere, All at Once (currently free with Amazon Prime) and the penultimate episode of the gripping Happy Valley.  Until next time!