St. Patrick, the feather ruffler

On top of hills forty-five minutes northwest of Dublin, rise a group of great mounds. Among other purposes, these served as tombs for the people with the especial purpose of being gateways to an afterlife. In fact, in the name of this place—Brú na Bóinne—the word “brú” can be translated to mean, “other-worldly.” The most famous one, now called Newgrange, dates to 3200 B.C. (pre-dating the Giza Pyramids by 500 years. Take that, Egypt.).

Entrance to Newgrange.

The circumferences of the largest mounds were lined with a series of carved stones that had to be brought up-river almost 50 km. It was an astonishing task, considering these Neolithic people didn’t have the wheel yet. Okay, they were likely using rolling logs as wheels, but still. Additionally, the passages through these mounds line up with the winter solstice. After our group of 15 scampered into
the 40 meters into center of Newgrange, where cremated remnants of some 300 people had been laid, the guide simulated the solstice by turning on a lamp at the entrance. Slowly, a 15 foot dagger of light made its way through the tortuous corridor and pierced the central atrium, lighting up the otherwise pitch-black room. Although not entirely sure of its significance, researchers believe that for a people who worshipped the life-giving sun, this event must have been a way to show devotion to the sun gods (how many years would it take to create this?!) but also a way for the sun gods to transport away the spirits of their deceased. Eons passed (as they do) and the original purpose was lost. Instead, their positioning was perfect for a few different groups to use in the following millennia; an Iron Age
fortress, a monastery, and a Norman castle were built sequentially on top of the Knowth mound.

While we stood on top of Knowth, the guide pointed out a few of the other hilltop mounds on the horizon. She mentioned that they often represented positions of power for old Celtic kings, and that the high-king’s seat was at Knowth. Pointing to a particular hill, she said, “and that’s Hill of Tara, where St. Patrick sent a signal to usurp power from the high-king.” Sensing a juicy story, I hopped into my car and drove the 30 minutes to this other hill.

Aerial view of Hill of Tara

On top of the Hill of Tara were quite a few smaller mounds that all had some sort of we-don’t-really-know-but-we’re-guessing-burial purpose. Apparently, though this was the premier religious site for the region, and the high-king had the honor of lighting the first ceremonial fire of Spring there. Well, St. Patrick had other ideas and in a move meant to confront the local religions, he lit the Pascal Fire. This was tantamount to declaring war on the high-king or blowing out someone’s birthday candles, so the king explaimed, “Oh no, he didn’t!” and sent some soldiers over to Tara. Sensing an opportunity, St. Patrick converted a few of the soldiers on the trip back to Knowth (reportedly using a 3-leaf clover to represent the Godhead). Instead of being executed in some gory manner, St. Patrick was free to evangelize and the rest is history.

"From this site in 423 A.D...."

I also made some friends!! (no, not just cats or cows) On the buses that took us from mound to mound, I chatted with a couple from Belgium who explained the history of the creation of the Belgian State, and with an older lady who’s traveling with her dog in a camper van from the English Midlands (her first journey solo after her husband passed last Fall). And while I wouldn’t necessarily consider him a friend, I did have the pleasure of eavesdropping on a 13 year-old American boy who was somewhere between befriending and flirting with an Irish girl, and saying forehead-smacking, but innocent lines like “So what’s it like to drive on the wrong side of the road?” and “yeah, Ireland is full of barnyard animals. It seems like they’re always running in front of our car!” But I suppose his obnoxious energy was better than the alternative: disinterest and eye-rolling. I should be less of a curmudgeon… after all, I was probably that boy 17 years ago.