27.07.2025

We were now running behind schedule, having stayed in Kilgarvan to visit the Motor Museum, arriving at Inch in the evening. The initial plan was to leave Inch that night because we had a hard deadline in Galway for the Mountbellew Vintage Car and Agricultural Show. We absolutely had to be there no later than 12 noon as we’d been booked in as exhibitors. After a really moving interview and guided storytelling itinerary in the car with Micheál Fitzgerald with a brand new fiction read by writer and visual artist Laura Fitzgerald we made our way to Foley’s pub where electronic musician and sound artist, Chris Steenson , Laura’s partner was sitting at a picnic table with a view of the sea. It was almost dark but we could hear the waves. Laura’s friend, who is the proprietor of Foley’s bar came out to join us. When the moment came to order a round of drinks our plan to leave inch was suddenly jeopardised.

A Rave?
Yes rave
A Beach rave?
Yea.
They’ve got the whole place set up down there…they’ve been arriving all day.
It’s happening right now?

We couldn’t hear anything, it was the most peaceful and serene place. All of us quietened and cocked our heads to listen. Nothing. Nothing except the lilling of the waves. There’s hardly a rave happening just there. Surly not. Chris described a natural feature in the landscape - a colosseum in the dunes that traps the soud. Every year they host a huge rave down there. It’s kind of unbelievable. We don’t hear anything. Should we go down to it Laura asks and of course there is only one answer to that question. 

Liliane and myself confer to discuss logistics. As long as we leave by 4/5am we should be ok to get up to Mountbellew on time. We’re cutting it fine though. There’ll be no more detours - we’ll have to go there directly. Okay I get you, we’ll drive straight there, no tangents, quiet roads It’ll be smooth.

But the odds are stacked against us. Heads touch pillows for about an hour or less after the beach rave and we do indeed get up at the crack of dawn. However…so does everyone else. It’s the day of the all Ireland finals and Kerry are playing Donegal so everyone and their mother is booting it towards Croke Park. 

We’re in the tiny car and simply have to keep pulling over to let everyone pass. Tensions are rising on the road. People have no time to be stuck behind a 1962 Renault 4 driving 50km/hr. Finally we find a turn off the national road onto a local access road where we can relax into the drive. Beautiful scenery all around and we are listening to Brian’s composition cassette when suddenly the dulcimer stops and the old recording from underneath comes through. That’s mad, I say. Why what’s wrong, Liliane asks…This song is about a relative of mine. Jerry (Jeremiah) Lyons,

You may sing and speak about Easter Week and the heroes of Ninety Eight. 
Of Fenian Men who roamed theglen in victory or defeat.
Their names on history's pages told, their memories will endure, 
Not a song was sung of our darling sons, in the Valley of Knockanure.

There was Lyons and Walsh and the Dalton boy, They were young and in their prime.They rambled to a lonely spot where the Black and Tans did hide.
The Republic bold they did uphold, Tho' outlawed on the moor And side by side they fought and died In the Valley of Knockanure.

It was on a neighboring hillside We listened in hushed dismay.
In every house, in every town, a young girl knelt to pray. They're closing in around them now, with rifle fire so sure. And Lyons is dead and young Dalton's down in the Valley of Knockanure. 

On 12 May 1921 four young men died defending the village, the valley of Knockanure from a large troop of Black and Tans who were travelling from Listowl towards Athena, drunk and marauding. By chance we were driving through the valley of Knockanure. The song petered out and Brian’s otherworldly dulcimer returned. Then a hare appeared in front of the car and Liliane stuck on the brakes, the mythical hare.…a powerful liminal symbol closely tied to shapeshifting and the supernatural Otherworld. So light and swift that they can cross fluently between realms. 

This encounter between several realms threw at least an hour on the journey and while Liliane had been incredibly patient, indulging the detours that we swore we wouldn’t take…we were now very behind schedule and would surely not make it on time. For the final stretch of the journey, we drove in silence. The apprehension of falling short of our commitments to the Mountbellew Vintage Club was now a reality. Stern but fair in email correspondence, we felt they’d kindly refuse us now that we’d be at least 45mins late for our slot as exhibitors, literally holding up the show. When we did eventually arrive, we were greeted with smiles, badges and tokens for complimentary cups of tea and a meal ticket for the chip van. 

Photo credits: Laura Fitzgerald and tour de force