Fore Priory Ruins

I was given this great little book about Myths and Folklore of Ireland. Great reading and fascinating old stories.  In it I found quite a number of oddities I intend to seek out over the course of the year.   My first foible is the ‘tree that would not burn” and the “water that will not boil”.  Both found at Fore Village and its Monastic sites a short distance from Athlone, but we got so much more.  We still have to drive some crazy little rural roads to get there and pass through a couple of very small villages but it was so well worth the search. We approached the town by driving under the original city gate erected in 1642.

There is still today a very small village of Fore sitting alongside the ruins.  We stopped in at the little café for tea, coffee and cake (of-course) and had a great chat with Bibi O’Reilly (daughter of the owner) who is studying to be a daycare teacher at the Athlone Institute of Technology.  She was very inquisitive and asked about schooling in the states, we talked about women’s rights, and (again) what’s up with America politics. (ugh) She drives up from Athlone on the weekends to help and make extra money.

Right down the road from the café and sitting at the base of the rock of Fore are the ruins of a Benedictine Priory and across the street from that the ruins of St. Fechin’s church and an odd little building, The Anchorite’s cell.

The Anchorite’s Cell is half up the mountain side with no visible path to it, in a pasture and surrounded by cows. The home is preserved and locked up tight because apparently there is still a Latin inscription on the wall from the last occupant of the home.

“Behold me, Patrick Beglan, dweller in the sacred hermitage. I am hidden and buried in this hollow heap of stones.  Beneath the towering rock for a monument and a sanctified abode; an undefiled sanctuary, a house hitherto without stain.  The wayfarer, therefore, whoever he is, will perceive this tomb.  Let him say may the soul of the hermit who dwells (here) reach heaven A.D. 1616”
This was a home for hermits, looked after and held in high regard by the villagers.

Just a short distance from this structure are the remains of the original church built by Saint Fechins in the 7th century and later added on to in the 12th century.  One of the most remarkable features of this structure are some the original and massive stones used, and still in place.  The beam over the doorway weighs 2.5 tons and most walls are 4 feet thick.

Down the hill (and across the street) are the awesome remains of the priory itself.  What struck me odd about these ruins, besides the cows roaming freely, were the local children that ran around the structures like it was their playground – completely indifferent to the significance.  I suppose this is the difference when one grows up around them.  Fortunately, remaining stairwells, and some rooms have been barred against entry for safety & preservation.   At the top of the hill and a long staircase are the remains of the “Columbarium” or dove/pigeon house.

There is a great history lesson associated with these ancient ruins and the many monks that inhabited the buildings over the years, but I really want you to know about my original search for a tree that won’t burn and water that won’t boil.  I found them both.  The water from Saint Fechin’s well was said to cure most aliments but if anyone tried to boil it a tragedy would befall them.  Sitting in the middle of this dried-up well is an alder tree, again legend says anyone attempting to cut it down or burn it will die the next day.  Over the years, and before it dried up, people who visited the well would actually bottle water and take it with them.  Visitors would also tie prayer ribbons to the tree for well wishes, and then more recently, the practice of hammering money into the tree itself would bring good fortune.  We did not pound anything into the tree, but did place a couple of coins in the joint of two branches.  Legend or not, good fortune is always welcomed.

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