Ireland Travel Blog Part 1 - The Caves Of Kesh

PART ONE of a series of blog posts capturing a memorable adventure in Ireland disguised as a book tour.

It’s taken some time to sift through the many memories of my six-week Ireland adventure — a journey that doubled as a book tour.

Why Ireland? The simple answer is that many of my book’s characters and storylines were shaped by my experiences whilst travelling here years ago (more on that in future posts). Returning to launch the book simply felt right.

What I hadn’t expected was how much more memorable — and fulfilling — the experience would be this time around.

Not a single day passed without multiple pages of my journal being filled: of time spent in the midlands, or in the towns and cities along the west coast from Cork to Sligo.

So, in many ways, this is equal parts travel blog and thank-you letter.

As an aside, I’ve chosen to use initials instead of real names. Not because there’s anything secretive or embarrassing in these stories — far from it. It’s just easier that way. This includes T. and S., my dear friends who welcomed me during the first part of the trip, in a home as warm and welcoming as it is beautiful.

Their house looks west across the plains of County Cavan, where hedgerows and ancient stone walls frame fields of grazing sheep and cows. In those moments when the low, grey-misty rain lifts, you can see those fields stretching out toward the distant hills. But even then, the vast sky remains centre stage, veiled by everchanging clouds of candyfloss white.

My first real taste of the magic came on the very first day, when my hosts revealed an adventure they had planned.

I’d never heard of the Kesh (Keshcorran) Caves and, had I been travelling alone, I most likely would have driven straight past. The signs are subtle — nothing like the billboard markers my North American eyes are used to seeing.

Even on arrival, little suggests you’ve reached a place so steeped in myth and history. There’s no sprawling parking lot, no souvenir stands, no ticket booth — just a small lot and a dirt trail climbing the side of a steepish hill.

The caves themselves are easy to miss unless you know where to look. Odd, given their past — or more accurately, prehistory. Carved into Keshcorran Hill, these limestone openings have long been considered portals to other realms. They are also said to be the childhood home of High King Cormac mac Airt, raised here by a she-wolf according to an 8th-century scribe.

What struck me first was the mud. Slippery to the point of absurdity, it was unlike anything I’d ever encountered — nature’s own WD-40. I half-joked that it might have been part of the caves’ defenses, a natural deterrent to invasion. Faerie mud with mystic qualities, perhaps. S., meanwhile, moved with ease, never slipping once as I stumbled and slid along the narrow, meandering path through tall, damp grass.

There is a sense of awe on reaching the first cave, approaching from below, looking up at the eight-foot-high entrance. The air chills on stepping through the keyhole-shaped opening. Inside, the floor and walls of grey limestone seem coolly indifferent to one’s presence - not surprising given all that has unfolded here over many thousands of years. I’ve since learned that tools over 6,000 years old had been discovered on the very spot where I stood,

The chamber is not large, but by cave standards it feels almost luxurious. Its breadth and high vaulted ceiling recall a medieval crypt — albeit with better natural lighting. I couldn’t resist imagining how it might have been reviewed in those ancient days:

Nice location and amenities. Can stand upright. Room for a fire. Suitable for groups of up to ten. Excellent view — enemies and animals visible from miles away. Five stars. (No Internet).

Yet the memory that lingers most isn’t from inside the caves themselves, but from just outside the entrance. Sitting there, I feasted on the vast plain before me, awash in time, breathing the cool cave air mingled with the fresh Sligo breeze.

The experience set the tone for all that was to follow: history and myth interwoven into an oddly profound sense of welcome. “Fáilte,” the caves seemed to whisper. “Stick around as long as you like.”