In 1649, when Oliver Cromwell came to Ireland, determined to bring the entire population to the Protestant faith, he once ordered the Irish natives to go "to Hell or to Connacht...," to make room for his planters. Maybe he, too, got it right by happenstance. Many millions of visitors would, today, join with the natives in claiming that Connacht is so far away from Hell that it is, in the words of Patrick Pearse, as close as you can get on this earth to the gates of Heaven.

Galway and Mayo, Sligo and Roscommon and lovely little languid Leitrim, these are stops along the twisting road which runs west into the heart of Connacht. Along the edge of that road in a small place called Rosmuc in Connemara, one can still visit Patrick Pearse's cottage, the summer holiday home of the schoolteacher-poet who championed the clandestine Irish Republican Brotherhood and was later executed for his part in the Easter Rising of 1916. One imagines he must have often sat inside the small windows dreaming his revolutionary dreams and writing poetry, "The little fields where mountainy men have sown, And soon will reap, Close to the gates of Heaven."

Although by far the poorest of the provinces economically, it is, by common consent, infinitely the richest in what it has to offer those who comes to see, to hear, to smell, to touch; to tast the core of a culture.

Gaelic is still the musical mother tongue in parts of Connemara as it is on many of the offshore islands where the tough yet delicate currachs nimbly dance on waves, as durable as the culture itself. There are many more musicians per acre of flute, fiddle and accordian than anywhere else except maybe in Co. Clare. In the quietest corners of the great mountains of the west there are still hardy bands of moonshiners in a ritual, although illegal, almost as old as the hills themselves. Hay is still cut and saved the old, slow way on many farms, turf is burned aromatically through old chimneys, salmon are still poached from the rivers as they have always been poached.

The Currach Boat-racing Competition is the highlight of "An Patrun (the pattern) Festival" which is held at the end of June on the island of Inishmore in honor of St. Peter and St Paul's feast day. Three-man rowing teams come to Inishmore from all over Connemara and the nearby islands to compete with ancient rowing skills; nowadays the event has taken on a "new" spirit which allows the "fairer sex" to demonstrate their prowess on the sea.

State grants are helping to preserve thatched cottages, approximately 2,550 nationwide with 500 of which are found in Connacht. The cottages in the Aran Islands would have been typically made of rye straw and rope. Visitors from Northern Ireland pour into Connacht in their tens of thousands when summer comes to get away from the hustle and bustle.

You can still see Connemara funeral groups following the coffins to seaside cemeteries in Carraroe, Co. Galway.

IRELAND, which is only the approximate size of West Virginia in the United States, is made up of four provinces and thirty-two counties! The province of Ulster is divided into the Republic of Ireland with three counties and Northern Ireland with six.

1. PROVINCE OF CONNACHT: Galway, Leitrim, Roscommon, Sligo, Mayo.

2. PROVINCE OF MUNSTER: Clare, Cork, Kerry, Limerick, Tipperary, Waterford.

3. PROVINCE OF LEINSTER: Carlow, Dublin, Kildare, Kilkenny, Leix (Laois), Longford, Louth, Meath, Offaly, Westmeath, Wexford, Wicklow.

4. PROVINCE OF ULSTER:
- (Republic of Ireland): Cavan, Donegal, Monaghan.
- (Northern Ireland): Antrim, Armagh, Derry/Londonderry, Down, Fermanagh, Tyrone.

CRUINNIU NA mBAD (The Gathering Of The Boats) -

A modern-day annual festival in Kinvara Bay Coo. Galway, which recreates an age-old tradition of ferrying turf (peat) in the Connemara area of Co. Galway to the West of Ireland. These magnificent workboats are part of our Irish heritage.

Galway storyteller, Tim Halloran, from Clarinbridge, tells about days gone by when the harbours and inlets of Galway Bay were alive with traditional sailing boats going about their daily business of plying fuel and net fishing for herring. The traditional household fuel in the West of Ireland is turf, also called peat, which is a surface sediment of twigs and leaves deposited a few thousand years ago by post ice-age forests and compressed over the centuries. Transportation of turf from the bogs to outlying villages was one of the main functions of the traditional boats. Because few roads existed around the bay up to seventy years ago, the only means of communication and transportation was by sea. A sailing vessel evolved in Galway over the centuries to withstand the harsh conditions existing on the West Coast of Ireland. It is called the Galway Hooker. It has incredible strength, natural stability and buoyancy. Although paperwork was rarely used in the preparation of the hookers, they still maintain their natural beauty. They were built by just a few families, among them the Caseys, Clonhertys and Mulkerrins of Mweenish, and the Brannellys and Keanes of Kinivara, and this knowledge of building was passed down to each generation within these families.

The hooker has been described as "a boat of local design solid, cow-like, with brown sails, strong, safe fish-and-cargo vessel of the days before there were engines, with which to negotiate the coasts and sounds and islands." The origin of this magnificent vessel is unknown, although several theories exist, one being that it developed from the Dutch hooker via the Kinsale hooker which was confined to the southern coasts of Ireland. The distinct curved lines running from bow to stem give the hooker a peculiar shape which is very similar to some old Portugese work boats. A hooker design existed in the U.S. called the "Boston Hooker," but it appears to have been introduced by Galway emigrants in the 1850s.

During the sudden upsurge of mechanisation in the present century, these handsome vessels almost became extinct. The fleet suffered a drastic reduction in numbers from well over 200 boats documented to be fishing out of the Claddagh village alone in the 1850s, to just a handful in existence by the early 1970s. However, discarded older boats were reconstructed to their former glory and several new vessels have been built. The Galway Hooker Association, founded in 1978, has helped to maintain interest in the hookers. In the annual festival, other sea-going vessels such as yachts, curraghs (canvas canoes), flat-bottoms, trawlers and various other work-boats can also be observed.

- "Irish Roots," magazine, 1988, Charlie Piggott, Kinvara, Co. Galway. Nar laghdal Dia iad (That they may never die).

THE QUEEN OF CONNEMARA -

"Oh! My boat can safely float in the teeth of wind and weather,
And outrace the fastest hooker between Galway and Kinsale;
When the black floor of the ocean and the white foam rush together,
High she rides, in her pride, like a sea-gull through the gale.

Oh, she's neat, Oh, she's sweet! She's a beauty in ev'ry line!
The QUEEN of Connemara is that bounding barque of mine.

When she's loaded down with fish till the water lips the gunwale,
Not a drop she'll take on board her that would wash a fly away;
From the fleet she'll slip out swiftly like a greyhound from her kennel,
And she'll land her silver store the first at ould Kinvara quay.

Oh, she's neat! Oh, she's sweet! She's a beauty in ev'ry line!
The QUEEN of Connemara is that bounding barque of mine.

There's a light shines out afar, and it keeps me from dismaying
When the skies are ink above us and the sea runs white with foam,
In a cot in Connemara there's a wife and wee one praying
To the One who walked the waters once, to send us safely home.

Oh, she's neat! Oh, she's sweet! She's a beauty in ev'ry line!
The QUEEN of Connemara is that bounding barque of mine!

- Francis A. Fahy

Ireland's northwest counties of Donegal, Leitrim and Sligo are much acclaimed for their coastal scenery of cliffs and sandy beaches, behind the coastal plain rise great mountains interspersed with deep glens and innummerable crystal lakes. The heart of William Butler Yeats country is here with the many places immortalized in his poetry: bare Ben Bulben mountain, the lake isle of Innisfree and Drumcliffe churchyard in Sligo where the poet is buried and Co. Leitrim's beautiful Glencar waterfall captured in "The Stolen Child." There are many antiquities and historical sites in the region of Connacht, including Lough Derg (not to be confused with the larger lake on the Shannon), one of Ireland's most celebrated places of pilgrimage.

In Glencolumbkille, Co. Donegal, there is an especially created folk village showing how three centuries of thatched cottage dwellers lived; the furnishings and domestic appliances are all authentic. There are seaside and lakeside towns for bathing and sailing, golfing, coarse and game fishing, pony-trecking and hill-walking in abundance. The Irish have a great capacity for enjoying themselves, as reflected in their music, dance and story-telling.

The mountainy sheep provide the hard-wearing wool for the Donegal tweeds that are still woven by hand in the cottages in the valleys. Bloody Foreland is named for the intense blood red beauty of the sunsets and the road for its twists and climbs around the spectacular coastline which includes the tallest marine cliffs in Europe, falling for over a mile to reach the sea. Here, too, are the Derryveagh mountains, offering the severest rockclimbs the country has to offer.

In the west, tradition holds that Columbus'last port of call in Europe was Galway. This ancient city was established as a Mayoral City in 1484 by charter, granted by King Richard III. Galway City is the gateway to three distinctive regions: to the east, is the horse-raising aand fox-hunting country, to the north, the two great lakes, Lough Corrib and Lough Mask provide the greatest expanse of salmon and trout fishing water in the country; to the west is Connemara, that harsh land stripped to the rock bone whose liquid light and smoky colors have defied the best efforts of many painters. This is the largest Irish-speaking section of the country and the old customs and way of life as as much a part of Connemara's attractions as the scenery. Near Clifden, the "capital of Connemara, is a monument to Alcock and Brown, the first airmen to make a non-stop transatlantic flight. The monument stands close to the spot where they landed in 1919.

Further on, beyond the fjord-like Killary Harbour and in Co. Mayo, is beautiful Clew Bay near Westport. Rising from its shores and dominating the surrounding countryside is Ireland's holy mountain, Croagh Patrick where the devout, many of them barefoot, trace Saint Patrick's ascent during his 40-day fast in 441 A.D. Turning inland and back towards Galway City, you will find Ballintubber Abbey near Partree, in continuous use for 700 years.

The loneliness of sparsely-settled Connacht speaks of centuries of pain, war, hunger and emigration. Nothing of the past has been forgotten, yet the beauty and tranquility is reflected in Yeats' lines -

"I will arise now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay
and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive
for the honey bee,
and live alone in the bee-loud glade..."

Hi My Maiden name is Pearse. I am the youngest of 8 children. We are told (my 7 brothers & sisters) that Patrick Pearse is one of our decendants. But I don't know enough about him. I found your article to be interesting and informative; wondering if were related?

BIO: Padraig Pearse was born in Dublin 10 Nov 1879. Patrick was a poet, a nationalist leader and did much to promote the Irish language. This handsome young man was educated at the Christian Brothers School, Westland Dow, Dublin, and University College, Dublin, called to the Bar in 1901 and was an editor of several publications. The charismatic Commander-in-Chief of the Forces of the Irish Republic and signatory of the Proclamation of the Irish Republic (Easter 1916) was executed on 03 May 1916 at Kilmainham Prison for the cause in which he was dedicated and was buried at Arbour Hill Military Prison.

The following poem was written at his mother's request, just before he and his brother went out to fight in the Rising of 1916:

THE MOTHER

I do not grudge them; Lord, I do not grudge
My two strong songs that I have seen go out
To break their strength and die, they and a few,
In bloody protest for a glorious thing.
They shall be spoken of among their people,
The generations shall remember them,
And called them blessed;
But I will speak their names to my own heart
In the long nights;
The little names that were familiar once
Round my dead hearth.
Lord, thou art hard on mothers:
We suffer in their coming and their going;
And tho' I grudge them not, I weary, weary
Of the long sorrow -- And yet I have my joy:
My sons were faithful, and they fought.

It was Padraig Pearse who said: "We have the strength and the peace of mind of those who never compromise."

thanks for your message on Connaught. Can you tell me where the name Connanght started? We are doing our genealogy and have records of our family long ago lived near the Laugh Conn in the ares. any help will be appreciated., Cliff Conn

Jean - five years later I see your message and your surname list! I have Brannelly and Fahy connections, together with Galway Hooker links. Perhaps we can share - I'd be glad to hear from you.