Castle Freke in the Mist

I first noticed Castle Freke from Galley Head; a crenellated ruin in the mist. The castle stands on the shoulder of a hill shielded by wetlands and a pond, overlooking the sea. Large windows tell that Castle Freke is a folly and not truly martial. It is ornamental, like modern knighthood. Can you imagine Sir Paul McCartney in armed combat with Sir Elton John?

Curiosity got to me and I cycled over to investigate. “Freke” was the surname of the Earls of Carbery, the 10th and last of whom renounced the name and title, styling himself “Mr. Carbery.” He abandoned the castle, immigrating to South Africa to fly his airplane in the Indian Summer of colonialism’s good old days. When I learned this I thought of Robert Redford’s role as Dennis Finch-Hatton in Out of Africa. Mr. Carbery was cut from the same cloth, I suspect.

The castle itself is off limits, posted because of timber harvesting in the nearby forest. The Castle Freke Forest Recreation Area is the true gem in any case. I rode along the paved byway bisecting the grounds, taking note of walking trails and spots for further exploration.

At Castle Freke Nature Area there are four forest walking paths featuring seeping wells, a high cross view to Galley Head and The Long Strand, and wonderful solitude. I listened to the stream, cows lowing, and distant dogs calling encouragement to their people. I thought I might catch glimpses of unicorns, fairies, and forest spirits. In this I wasn’t entirely disappointed.

A breeze stirred ancient oaks and
Voices murmured in the air.
In forest keep a naiad smiled as
I paused beside Her holy well.

The heart knows its home.

When you visit Castle Freke, take the High Cross trail and admire the flora. You hike through unspoiled forest of oak, ash, sycamore, and two varieties of pine. Wild flowers are joined by more exotic cousins whose ancestors were imported to amuse the Lords Carbery and their ladies. Now they all spill on the forest floor, blooming in shade and sun. The High Cross itself is a memorial left by the 9th Lady Carbery to her husband in the early 20th Century. It is said to be the highest cross in Ireland. Standing on its plinth you can see a beach panorama with Galley Head in the far distance. Pause as you walk down; listen to the breakers and dogs calling on the beach below. Children’s laughter carries up on the wind.

The Recreation Area also includes the cross-roads hamlet of Rathberry, a picture postcard community with a laughing brook running through it. You can cross the brook by a footbridge to visit The Sprigging School, built by a Lady Carbery to teach the local girls the then employable crafts of needlework. Also nearby is Lady Carbery’s Well, her gift to the community. It is still maintained and I refilled my water bottle in its spring, offering a prayer for her generous soul.

The post office and general store includes a little a little museum and, if wanted, a toilet. I stopped for lunch at the Sprigging School where I shared a sandwich with a nice Shepherd doggie. I was sitting on the ground with my back against a gate when I felt a friendly nose touch my right hand. She was black and white with a nice booty on her right hind foot. Since I had a sliced children sandwich, she happily joined me. I wish I knew her name. She was a very sweet doggie.

There’s a grassy cliff between The Long Strand and Little Island Strand where I can recline to read while listening to the surf below. It’s a wonderful spot to can catch the late afternoon sun. I thought I was alone, but after I remounted Ms. Raleigh I saw a courting couple, also on bikes, at the other end of the overlook. They greeted me warmly as the Irish do, commenting on the fine weather.

Behind the sand dune at Little Island Strand there’s a roadside acre of land for sale, presently occupied by a pair of friendly horses. A “For Sale” sign on the gate gave me a flutter. I daydreamed of having an apiary and farm stand selling honey and wildflower seeds. I’d plant some tomatoes and wildflowers. The horses have a fine view of a distant farmhouse standing in the ruins of a Norman Castle and, overlaid beyond, Castle Freke. It is too lovely a spot to clog up with human habitation. In my dream, bees and wildflowers share with the horses.