ON THE TRAIL OF WICKLOW’S OLD WELLS
REPORTER DAVID MEDCALF JOINED ROSALEEN DURKAN AND GERALDINE LYNCH IN SEEKING OUT SOME OF THE MORE THAN 120 WELLS ASSOCIATED WITH SAINTS AND CURES WHICH DOT THE GARDEN COUNTY’S COUNTRYSIDE
IT IS EASY TO GET LOST and bewildered on the slopes of Mount Carrick, somewhere near Glenealy and Moneystown,
At one point, there is a junction where five forest tracks converge, a sure recipe for confusion.
To make matters completely disorienting, Coillte has planted the area with conifers in strict lines. The regiments of trees are of such uniform appearance as to make each vista along each track more or less the same.
Enter Rosaleen Durkin, who makes no claims to be a master navigator. Yet she confidently leads us along the way to our destination amidst the forest.
The Glendalough resident, a native of Mayo, believes that she is following in the footsteps of people who came here for religious, social and quasi-medicinal reasons throughout many centuries. And here it is beside track three (or is it four?) - Our Lady’s holy well.
The hawthorn bush which stands guard is a sure indicator that this is the right spot
As yet there are no formal signs erected to assist visitors reach this this venerable destination from the public road a kilometre away.
The well is nevertheless becoming increasingly better known as more people learn the route through the five roads cross.
The local schoolchildren recently made the hike from Moneystown to the well, each child carrying a stone to lay around the water source, which is in the townland of Ballymanus Upper.
An oak tree has been planted amidst the conifers and sculptor Seaghan Ó Draoí has made a stone proclaiming ‘ Tobar Mhuire’.
Those who join the walk to this out of the way place planned for August 14 need expect no fairy story style well with a bucket on a rope ready to drop down a deep hole.
Our Lady’s is no more than a modest spring even in the midst of a wet winter. At present the flow of holy water has practically dried up for the summer.
It is one of more than 100 such springs and ponds and puddles which are known to have existed across Co. Wicklow. At that rate the chances are that there is one near you, though you may be totally oblivious to it.
It was back in the 1980s that Geraldine Lynch first set about raising modern con- sciousness of the wells. The folklorist and noww retired teacher from Wicklow town mined thehe archive of the Irish Folklore Commission for or information. The commission asked schoolchildren of thehe 1930s to quiz their grandparents on traditionsns and legends. The older generation provided a window deep p back into the past, thousands of them interviewed by the children in Co. Wicklow alone. e. The results were carefully written down by the youngsters in copy books, stacks of which are still available to scholars at the archive held by UCD. Amid the tales of fairies, charms and curses all detailed in meticulous long-hand, Geraldine found rich reference to holy wells of the county. The list she drew up from all those copy books was so comprehensive that information on no more than a handful of sites has been added since. Geraldine recalls how the practice of gathering at holy wells, of praying at holy wells, of collecting water from holy wells was for long an unquestioned part of Irish culture.
The wells were a common part of pagan Ireland worship not only on this island but also in Scotland. It was Pope Gregory I (who died in the year 604) who decided that his missionaries should go with the flow and adopt them as part of Christianity.
Early Christian churches were often built beside water sources which were declared holy and not to be used for agricultural or domestic purposes.
The wells were often associated with saints, with St Kevin a particular favourite, though Patrick, Bridget and many others were called in.
The feast day of the saint was then the obvious date on which to have a gathering at the water.
Some wells were particularly popular because they provided resting places along pilgrimage routes leading to Glendalough.
And many became associated with cures for
particular maladies such as warts or rheumatismrheumatism. Moneystown water was for dispelling colds. Water from Brideswell near Wicklow Head was prized by sailors keen to fend off the dread possibility of shipwreck.
The well in Kilpedder was associated with a cure for malaria (the disease also known as the ague).
A decline in the popularity of the wells became markedly evident from late in the 18th century.
The slide began in earnest around the time of the United Irishmen rebellion when authorities loyal to the British Crown became suspicious of any public gathering, worried that revolution was being plotted.
One unfortunate man accused of sedition was executed and his body put on display at St John’s well in Rathdangan.
The Protestant denominations never took to the al fresco religion of the wells.wells
As the Roman Catholic faith gained in self-confidence, the clergy came to prefer the bricks and mortar of church buildings to the impromptu acts of piety in obscure rural spots.
In Ashford, for example, the priests made every effort to encourage their flock to take part in the Corpus Christi procession at Rathnew rather that visit their local well.
Despite this, newspaper reports in 1919 told of thousands assembling at Holy Trinity well, with a football game between Killiskey and Bolinass part of the entertainment – Killiskey won.
Such popular assemblies continued into the 1930s before fading as holy well observance faded close to extinction, though many Traveller families and a few other stalwarts kept the tradition going.
The enduring appeal was illustrated when drought brought St Boden’s well, submerged during the creation of the Blessington reservoir, back into view, prompting thousands of visitors who arrived to pray and to fill up containers with the holy water.
Now the Wicklow Wells group has set about identifying as many of the sites as they can and reviving the 25 or so that remain safely accessible.
In the case of the Moneystown well, it took some serious detective work in 2013 to identify the correct location of a place that had faded from the collective consciousness.
Rosaleen, who teams up with fellow enthusiasts such as Seaghan Ó Draoí and Stephen Moss to carry out the work, had to trace the faint remnants of ancient ditches marked on old maps in the forest in order to track down their prey oon Mount Carrick.
Often with the help of older residents, they have pinpointed many others such aas Moyne, where the well is no mmore than a hole in the road.
Geraldine Lynch chips in ththat there is a well associated with St Patrick on the Greenhill Road in Wicklow, though most locals are blissfully unaware that it is there.
Patrick is honoured too at a well near Aughrim.
The Wicklow Wells invesway t tigators successfullyhave also to found Holy Trintheir ityity well (tobar na Tríonóide), ththough the place which once welcomed multitudes of faithfulu is now tricky to access off the busy Ashford to Roundwood road.
Despite perils posed by the traffic, the well is once more attracting people, who come here to commune with God in the open air.
They leave ribbons and bracelets and other little tributes behind, even a pair of spectacles suggesting a pilgrim seeking celestial help to see properly.
Wicklow Wells describe itself as an informal group of people interested in identifying, documenting, protecting and mapping these ancient sites
Already active on Facebook, they will soon have their own website as they continue their work of collecting folklore, working with the communities who live beside the wells to revive patron days and make them easier to visit.