Another Baltimore, and still charming
sheep-dotted fields draping the flat lands. The presentation that unfolds is a tangle of forests and fields framing thatched cottages, a ruined abbey and a few castles tucked in the green.
On sunny days, the crystal-clear waters sparkle, and as many as 400 sailboats tie up in summer anchorage. When it rains — sometimes two or three times a day — the sailors stay in harbor, with pubs and restaurants giving solace — a true Charm City response.
I stumbled on Celtic Baltimore by chance. (That name! Who from Maryland could resist?) And after a week of exploring, I fell hard. There are miles of trails to walk, from easy farm paths to spooky little ruts leading to ruins of a Spanish castle and village outpost on top of the cliffs.
There’s a robust nautical industry, with rentals and schools offering the best in sailing — from sailboards to yacht rentals — kayaking, snorkeling, swimming, fresh- and saltwater fishing, and whale and bird watching. An active scuba community offers lessons and rentals, and organizes explorations of a Nazi submarine and what they bill as the largest shipwreck in the world, the Kowloon Bridge, in about 100 feet of water a few miles offshore.
Still, one wonders how it is that the two Baltimores don’t acknowledge each other. Maybe it’s that Lord Baltimore, for whom Charm City was named in 1729, never set foot in the village — his real name was Calvert, and he took the title of Baltimore because he liked the sound of it.
Yet connections are real. Frederick Douglass stopped by the dock here in 1845, after fleeing slavery. No record of Douglass’ thoughts about the village and its curious connection to his slave past exist, but Douglass would write home that in Ireland:
“I find myself regarded and treated at every turn with the kindness and deference paid to white people. When I go to church, I am met by no upturned nose and scornful lip to tell me, ‘We don’t allow n——s in here!’ ”
While Douglass’ visit goes unmentioned, a few of the tourist gift shops point to Charm City in an unusual way — local artists do oils and acrylic renderings of a familiar-looking schooner. Some of the bars and restaurants hang such images in places of honor.
It’s the Pride of Baltimore, the Charm City ship that first docked here on its maiden crossing in 1985.
“The entire village was so hospitable,” remembers Jan C. Miles, a sailor on the ship and today captain of its second iteration, Pride of Baltimore II.
“We spent two weeks in harbor,” he said in a telephone interview. “About 10 hours a day repairing the ship — a wooden ship takes a beating crossing the Atlantic — and another 10 hours at night with our new friends.”
“After a while, both the crew and our Baltimore friends were exhausted from the pleasure of it all,” he said, adding that lifelong friendships were made during that first visit, and whenever the Pride crosses the Atlantic, it makes a call at its namesake Celtic home.
Miles recommends visitors take time to walk around Baltimore — good advice if my experience holds true. Perhaps the best way to prepare — and fill in some of that rainy day time — is do a little reading first. Otherwise, there are no guided tours.
“The Stolen Village: Baltimore and the Barbary Pirates,” by Dublin journalist Des Ekin, is a quick-paced paperback, with maps, about the raid of June 20, 1631, when pirates attacked at night and kidnapped 50 teenagers and children, 34 adult women, and 23 men to sell into slavery in Algiers. Fear of that attack led to abandonment of the village until the 1800s.
“Baltimore Castle: An 800-Year History,” and “Pirates of Baltimore,” are paperbacks by local historian Bernie McCarthy focusing on Dún na Séad, a castle at the dock dating at least to the 11th century, and possibly to much earlier.
With the maps and narratives in hand — the books are pocket-size — the static beauty of Celtic Baltimore blossoms from scenery to history and the big things that move through time.
My favorite walk is to start at the cliffs by the channel where a whitewashed 55-foot brick beacon stands to mark the entrance. The drop is a straight 300 feet to the channel below, where the pirates entered so long ago. Legend has it that Phoenician traders came through to swap Egyptian scarabs and Greek wine for Irish butter and hides.
It’s about a three-mile downhill walk to the only road in town, a curly thing leading to the dock. You pass by The Cove, with only a two-person bench marking where the pirates stashed their long boats.
The docks and village center rise ahead. There are outdoor cafes under the shadow of Dún na Séad, and it’s a good place to eye the harbor and pause for a beer, and maybe something from the abundant fresh-caught seafood here.
Alas, no Beautiful Swimmers are in the house, so I order Brown Crab, an Atlantic beast weighing six pounds, whose delicate flesh comes tangled like spaghetti squash. That’s when the Charm City connection hits hard.
There is no Old Bay or Wye Island Seasoning for this crab. WHERE TO STAY WHERE TO EAT THINGS TO DO