Ireland Day Eight (Kylemore Abbey)

This morning I am awakened by the baa-ing of sweet little curly horned sheep in the front garden.

The best alarm clock I can think of. Today we cycle to Kylemore Abbey.

We start off just after a morning rain, and are urged to get on our bikes and pedal ASAP as "the no-see-ems" are swarming (we see 'em - and we feel 'em - until we're underway). Soon, it begins to mist and then to rain again.

But we are not discouraged: our guides - experts on Irish weather - assure us it will clear up by 10. And sure enough, we arrive at Kylemore Abbey under clear skies. It is an unmistakeable structure; a private home, built by Mitchell Henry* for his wife in 1871.

Henry inherited pots of money, but decided not to go into the family business and instead, abandoning his medical practice, went into politics and commerce - and building, to judge by this. He was an enlightened landlord, and he and his wife Margaret had 9 children before the place was finished. Meanwhile, they entertained lavishly from their townhouse in London.

​But even the wealthiest and healthiest of us is not immune from the Four Sufferings** and four years after its construction, Margaret died of dysentery while they were on a trip to Egypt. She was 45 years old.

Henry was inconsolable and threw himself into building a Gothic cathedral for her down the lane. It's the smallest cathedral I've ever seen - and the sweetest:

With columns bearing stones from the four corners of Ireland:

And the usual terror-inducing gargoyles replaced by angels bearing tidings of peace.

One can only wish more cathedrals were built with the love this one was, rather than with the intention to inspire awe and fear. Why do we need to feel small and powerless? Why not inspire us to truly love each other and do great things? Well, this is the Buddhist in me talking...

Subsequently one of Henry's daughters died in a horseback riding accident and we're told that broke his spirit. Still, he was 84 by the time he died. Here is the mausoleum which holds the remains of both of him and his wife.

The entire estate has a truly hallowed feeling to it, in part because after Henry died it fell into various hands before becoming a Benedictine nunnery which ran a girls' school for both local girls and boarders - and it's still around. The last girl graduated in 2010, and now Notre Dame has leased a part of it - hopefully for educational purposes (rather than sports).

There are charming gardens.​ 

But what impresses me most is the reforestation of Kylemore, begun by Henry and continuing to this day (you can sponsor a tree if you like***). I like trees and rather regret that Ireland cut all of its trees down. John Muir used to say that trees were easy to kill, because they couldn't run away.

From here we cycle to the Renvyle House Hotel for lunch.

Where we are greeted by ducks and geese (I decide not to order the duck).

​"Another dump," I announce to no one in particular upon entry (yes, VBT treats us royally). 

​While awaiting our tables, we sit by a peat fire and this is the first time I get to experience the strong scent of peat, very different from wood. 

Most of us have an Irish beer, but once acquainted with Irish Whisky - well you know where this is going. I know I won't finish it. I also know I probably won't have many more of these.
​
After lunch, we head for home, making a wide loop around the lake on which our hotel sits. 

There's an option for extra miles, a trek to the beach, and I decide to take it...

*http://www.kylemoreabbeytourism.ie/mitchell-henry-history-of-kylemore
** The Four Sufferings: Birth, Old Age, Sickness and Death
(http://www.sgilibrary.org/search_dict.php?id=812​)
***Sponsor a tree at Kylemore: http://www.kylemoreabbey.com/forest_friends.htm