Dublin to Dysert O'Dea

I was looking through the O’Dea Clan guestbook and came across an entry asking for tips on how to maximise the experience of a trip to Dublin and including Dysert O’Dea ( Clare) over four days in Nov. I like this sort of question. So here’s my list for those who are into culture, history, heritage etc.

1. Get to a trad session in a Dublin pub, maybe The Merchant or Hughes.
2. A play in the Abbey, Gate, Project or wherever.
3. A hurling match in Croke Park (weekends), you won’t see anything like it elsewhere.
4. Nicest walks in Dublin area are Bray to Greystones or path around Howth Head
5 Kilmainham Gaol for 1916 era history museum.
6. Going to Dysert, get the Burren Map ( Tim Robinson’s 2 inch map), and the "Book of the Burren" ( o'Connell and... v readable) and see some best archaeological sites (eg Caherconnell Fort) in Ireland, walk the green road, take time to enjoy Black Head round to Doolin ( get out of the car for this), enjoy a good meal in Corofin.
7.Take boat from Doolin to Inis Oirr ( if weather permits in Nov)
8. See Cliffs of Moher and St Brighid’s well on road to liscannor.
9.Have a pint in Liscannor.
10. Or skip 6-10, see Yeats Tower , Coole Park and Kilmacduagh monastic ruins outside Gort and onto Galway for a day/night around town.
11. Returning to Dublin detour to Strokestown for Famine Museum. If time permits detour later to take in Fore Monastery ruins near Castlepollard in Co Longford.

I forgot days were short in Nov.

Dom Bernard O'Dea

Writing about Dysert brings Dom Bernard to mind. He was my father’s first cousin and, of course, chaplain to the O’Dea clan for many years. We always looked forward to Bernard’s all too rare visits. When he came, he brought his stories, his regard for children and his great bright smile.

For a commeration of his death, James O’Dea asked me to write something. I could have written a eulogy but decided instead to recall that childhood impression of his visits. This is the poem with some alterations

In Memory of Dom Bernard.


We were coming home at night,
children in the back, you out front,
the colored lights on the dashboard;
up hills, down valleys,
the whole car singing.

But there were neither hills nor valleys,
it was the wild careering over and around
your songs and stories.
Close my eyes, we’re skittering on still
snug in the warm blanket of your gentleness.