Ireland may be a small country but within its shores lies a land of great natural variety, wide social diversity and fascinating history. And this past week Nancy and I have been experiencing some of that diversity. Our ministry here in Carlow includes one weekend when I am not preaching there, and we took that time off to spend this past Sunday with friends at Adelaide Road Presbyterian Church in Dublin (where we were last summer) and then to go to the far west country. It was great for us to renew relationships with the Dublin people, to see how their new pastor has begun to work with that wonderful and challenging situation, then for us to move on.

From Dublin we went to the western coast, to County Mayo. While the Celtic Tiger has changed the face of all of Ireland, this western part is far from the urban hustle and bustle of cosmopolitan Dublin. Mayo was the center of much of the suffering of the 1850’s great potato famine, and still has not regained the population it had before that tragedy. A fair part of the county is called a gaeltacht area, that is an area in which Gaelic is a primary language. Most places in Ireland will have informational signs in both English and Gaelic, and Gaelic is part of the curriculum of Irish schools, but in this area Gaelic is a primary language and it is not uncommon to see signs that language only.


Our first stop was in a wide spot in the road called Pontoon. There, nestled against a hill and facing a beautiful lake, we stopped for the night in an inn. The inn was not particularly old by Irish standards, it was constructed in the 1800’s, but it is delightfully kept and wonderfully comfortable. The 17 mile bike ride around the lake that evening was picture-perfect.

After a comfortable night in Pontoon we moved on to the port city of Westport then continued on to Achill Island—a place of dramatic hill and coastal scenery, white beaches and points of relative isolation. From Achill we went to Belmullet, where we spent the night in an inn above a pub in what I am sure was one of the older buildings in the town. Our dinner of excellent fish and chips in another pub was shared with a group of cyclists who had come from the north. They had battled rain all day, and I am not sure that my report of the dry that we had experienced just a few miles farther south was encouraging.

The next day we found the rains the cyclists had told us about, as we traveled through the wind-swept barren bog lands of Mayo. No crops can grow in these bogs, but they are a primary source for the fuel used in many homes in the area and beyond—peat. In a relatively flat rainy area, when there are no trees to drink up the water, rainfall dissolves certain minerals and percolates downwards until the minerals form an impermeable hard pan layer. The rain then continues but water does not go beyond that layer, so the land becomes permanently water-logged and soggy. Under these conditions certain microorganisms that decompose dead organic matter cannot grow, so dead grass and other plants pile up year after year, layer after layer. This accumulation is called peat, and is harvested by digging trenches then slicing off pieces the shape of bricks which are then left in the field to dry and then to be burned. How they can dry when the area has rain 235 days a year is a bit of a question for me, but they say it can…



We took single track side roads, passing a graveyard for unbaptized infants, visiting several very small fishing ports, and went through mile after mile of land that was broken only by mounds of drying peat. At one point during the day we were a bit lost so we stopped at a tractor which was parked in the middle of the road. The tractor driver-farmer rolled down his window and asked us where we were headed and we told him. And he told us how to get there, and also he told us about his family, his sister in America, the prevalence of cancer in the area (a result of Chernobyl, he was sure), some concerns about the politics of his country and ours, how one had to know someone important to get a good job, and much more. Then he led us to the turn we had to make to get where we were going. Much different from the hurry of Dublin, and very enjoyable.


Our destination that day was the Ceide Fields. Built on slopes rising from the sea, archaeologists have found the largest Neolithic settlement in all of Europe. The settlement was built approximately 5,000 years ago and inhabited for around 500 years. No one knows where the people came from, but it seems to have been a thriving and peaceful community of up to 1,000 inhabitants. 5,000 years ago the climate of this area was different—several degrees warmer and wooded, with deer and other wildlife in the dense forests. But these new people came and replaced the tiny population of nomads with a settled life style. The newcomers cleared fields, cut trees, kept cattle and piled over half a million tons of stone into walls and fences for homes, fences, and tombs. On the walking tour, which was cut short by driving rain, we learned that the settlement was as well preserved as it was because as the bog gradually grew it both covered and protected the ruins. We also learned that the people’s work in clearing the forests to make their fields probably contributed to the conditions bogs need to develop—and that the growth of the infertile bogs in turn may have contributed to the collapse of their culture. Perhaps we have something to learn from the success that possibly turned tragic 5,000 years ago—something about God’s intention that we should work and take care of…the land. (Genesis 2:15)

From traffic jams in Dublin to a leisurely conversation on a one lane track in Mayo; from English to Gaelic; from busy port of Dublin to small withering ports in the northwest; from fertile fields around Carlow to bogs in Mayo; from modern condos to 5,000 year old homes; from sunshine one minute to rain the next; from secular Ireland to the monasteries of the sixth century and the cathedrals of later years—Ireland is a land of contrasts. And what a privilege to be able to experience it, learn from it, and to try to encourage the believers for whom it is home, and field of mission—in all its parts and all its diversity.