Foreword
Beara is one of several ragged peninsulas on the edge of Europe, straggling into the Atlantic Ocean from the south-west corner of the island of Ireland. Wilder than Sheep’s Head and Mizen—its greener, quieter neighbours to the south—and less renowned than Iveragh and Dingle to the north, it has its own wildness, its own quietness, and a busy maritime character too. It stretches west-south-westwards from its natural neck—the Cooleenlemane river, the Priest’s Leap pass over Coomhola Mountain, and the green valley where the Coomeelan Stream meets the Sheen River on its way to Kenmare. As the hooded crow flies it is sixty kilometres, or nearly forty miles long, but its roads and mountains wind: through barren grazing and scanty arable fields; alongside coves and cliffs and inshore fisheries; below ringforts and standing stones and mass rocks on the hillsides; past the busy practicality of Castletownbere; past the once faded (but now reviving) grandeur of Puxley’s Mansion at Dunboy; finally, to the abandoned coppermines of Allihies. Beara comprises a part of north-west County Cork, and a small portion of south-west County Kerry, often forgotten by their parent counties, but not easily forgotten by those who live, and work, and visit here. First-time visitors, perhaps familiar with Kinsale or Dingle or Killarney, sometimes say that Beara is a well-kept secret, but the secret is there for the finding.
This book is not a guidebook, although it may guide you to places that you might not otherwise have found; it is not a history, although it includes many allusions to the near or distant past; it is not a visual record, for its images are meant to be evocative and not precisely descriptive. Rather, it conveys one person’s impressions of a landscape, and traces of the peoples who live and have lived in it, and one person’s delight in its variety and its welcome.
Foreword
Beara is one of several ragged peninsulas on the edge of Europe, straggling into the Atlantic Ocean from the south-west corner of the island of Ireland. Wilder than Sheep’s Head and Mizen—its greener, quieter neighbours to the south—and less renowned than Iveragh and Dingle to the north, it has its own wildness, its own quietness, and a busy maritime character too. It stretches west-south-westwards from its natural neck—the Cooleenlemane river, the Priest’s Leap pass over Coomhola Mountain, and the green valley where the Coomeelan Stream meets the Sheen River on its way to Kenmare. As the hooded crow flies it is sixty kilometres, or nearly forty miles long, but its roads and mountains wind: through barren grazing and scanty arable fields; alongside coves and cliffs and inshore fisheries; below ringforts and standing stones and mass rocks on the hillsides; past the busy practicality of Castletownbere; past the once faded (but now reviving) grandeur of Puxley’s Mansion at Dunboy; finally, to the abandoned coppermines of Allihies. Beara comprises a part of north-west County Cork, and a small portion of south-west County Kerry, often forgotten by their parent counties, but not easily forgotten by those who live, and work, and visit here. First-time visitors, perhaps familiar with Kinsale or Dingle or Killarney, sometimes say that Beara is a well-kept secret, but the secret is there for the finding.
This book is not a guidebook, although it may guide you to places that you might not otherwise have found; it is not a history, although it includes many allusions to the near or distant past; it is not a visual record, for its images are meant to be evocative and not precisely descriptive. Rather, it conveys one person’s impressions of a landscape, and traces of the peoples who live and have lived in it, and one person’s delight in its variety and its welcome.
I am gradually compiling an illustrated book evoking the landscape, seascape, archaeology, history, and culture of the Beara Peninsula on Ireland's West Cork seaboard. Each chapter here consists of an image with discursive text. Perhaps one day this will become a published book as well as a virtual one!
The images are of course available individually as unnumbered prints (approximately A4 images printed on A3 art paper) with the text on an accompanying sheet. Each print is €30 including despatch (Ireland and UK) or €35 (elsewhere); see the Ordering page for details.
To read the 'book' in sequence, click on the Foreword and then click Next to progress from chapter to chapter; otherwise, scroll through the thumbnails and click on the chapter that interests you.
Foreword
Beara is one of several ragged peninsulas on the edge of Europe, straggling into the Atlantic Ocean from the south-west corner of the island of Ireland. Wilder than Sheep’s Head and Mizen—its greener, quieter neighbours to the south—and less renowned than Iveragh and Dingle to the north, it has its own wildness, its own quietness, and a busy maritime character too. It stretches west-south-westwards from its natural neck—the Cooleenlemane river, the Priest’s Leap pass over Coomhola Mountain, and the green valley where the Coomeelan Stream meets the Sheen River on its way to Kenmare. As the hooded crow flies it is sixty kilometres, or nearly forty miles long, but its roads and mountains wind: through barren grazing and scanty arable fields; alongside coves and cliffs and inshore fisheries; below ringforts and standing stones and mass rocks on the hillsides; past the busy practicality of Castletownbere; past the once faded (but now reviving) grandeur of Puxley’s Mansion at Dunboy; finally, to the abandoned coppermines of Allihies. Beara comprises a part of north-west County Cork, and a small portion of south-west County Kerry, often forgotten by their parent counties, but not easily forgotten by those who live, and work, and visit here. First-time visitors, perhaps familiar with Kinsale or Dingle or Killarney, sometimes say that Beara is a well-kept secret, but the secret is there for the finding.
This book is not a guidebook, although it may guide you to places that you might not otherwise have found; it is not a history, although it includes many allusions to the near or distant past; it is not a visual record, for its images are meant to be evocative and not precisely descriptive. Rather, it conveys one person’s impressions of a landscape, and traces of the peoples who live and have lived in it, and one person’s delight in its variety and its welcome.