The Glen of Aherlow with its surrounding mountains is an area of Tipperary which deserves to be better known. The banks of the River Aherlow are beautifully forested and steeped in history, while the walks on the mountains to hidden lakes and panoramic views are the equal of any in Ireland. Lough Muskry is one such hidden lake, situated high in the mountains and not accessible by car. The walk to the lake and back should take no more than three hours from where the road ends in the forestry south of Rossadrehid village. The walk is quite steep but is not overly difficult, as there is a trail for the full extent of it, and the views of the surrounding mountains and of the lake itself make it more than worthwhile. Much of the early part of the route is through planted forest, with the latter part moving onto open moorland. One of the best times to undertake the walk is in the very early morning, when on sunny days you will have the experience of seeing the thick white mist clear from the river valley below, leaving bright blue skies and magnificent views of the glen. While the lake itself is not visible from the track, it is easy to identify the rim of the corrie in which it lies. The towering cliffs which surround the lake form a natural amphitheatre, the rocks gouged as if slashed by a knife. The water of the lake is dark and very cold looking, and there is little bird life around it. However warm the day, one is unlikely to be tempted to cool off in its green depths. To the north is Knockastakeen, where the strange rock formation, the Fir Bréaga or ‘False Men’ stands out clearly.
‘The Lower and Torc Lakes, Killarney’, engraving by WH Bartlett.
The lake was formerly known as Lough Béal Séad – the Lake of the Jewel Mouth – but it has also been identified as Loch Béal Dragan, the lake of the Dragon’s Mouth. Its present name, Lough Muskry, comes from the Múscraighe sept who lived in the south of Ireland. The lake is said to have been formed on the spot where Cliach the harper stood for a year to serenade his beloved, the daughter of Bodhbh of Slievenamon. The tradition continues that a piast, or serpent, emerges from the lake on stormy nights. Another local tradition has it that if a special grass grown near the lake is eaten, it will cure scurvy. This tradition has been upheld by botanical studies of the lakeside which have shown that scurvy grass is present in the area. Material collected by the Folklore Commission in the 1930s demonstrates the range of legends attached to the area of the Glen of Aherlow and the Galtee Mountains. This manuscript collection contains stories of buried treasures (often ‘Danish gold’); of holy wells moving location because they had been ill-treated by a user; of houses being left undisturbed after their owners died because the living did not wish to disturb the dead; of festive Lughnasa journeys into the hills to collect bilberries, on the last Sunday of July. Further back in time, William Le Fanu, the brother of the celebrated writer, Sheridan, walked across the Galtees in 1838. A fog came down and, for a time, the members of the party were completely lost, wandering in the mist and unable to get their bearings. They finally found shelter but when they mentioned that in their travels they had seen a chestnut horse running alone across the hills, they were told that they were lucky to have come back alive. The ‘yellow horse’, they were told, was a fairy steed, which usually foreshadowed the death of those who had seen it.
On the mountain path to Lough Muskry, County Tipperary.
We saw no fairy steeds on our trip; nor were there any swans with golden collars gliding on the lake. But on a warm May morning, the walk to Lough Muskry was idyllic. Stonechats darted and squabbled at the side of the track, and lambs, white enough to act as advertisements for washing powder, scrambled across the path and down the rocks, plaintively calling for their mothers. The valleys stretched away into a blue haze, and the larks that sang seemed to celebrate the return of the sun and the beginning of summer – at least for a day.
THE VISION OF AONGHUS
Aonghus, the child of youth and the god of love and beauty, lay sick in his bed in the Brú, and no one could say what ailed him. He fell in and out of a sleep that seemed to do him no good, for he moaned and called out while he slept, and awoke weeping. The people of the Sídh began to fear that he would never recover and dreaded the darkness that such a fate would bring to them. For it was Aonghus who protected lovers everywhere, who came with the spring with his bright cloud of singing birds. Yet still he would not say what ailed him, but only begged to be left alone so that he could sleep.
Finally, after a year, his mother, Bóinn, the goddess of the great river Boyne, became desperate. She sent for one of the greatest and wisest of the druids. He came to where Aonghus lay on his bronze bed and took one look at him. Then he said, ‘Easy it is to see what ails the lad.’
The court waited expectantly.
‘He is in love, and his beloved appears to him while he sleeps. He will never be well until he finds out who this girl that he is dreaming about is and gets her as his wife.’
Aonghus raised a pale head from the pillow and smiled. ‘In truth,’ he said, ‘I did not know my sickness until you told me of it. But so it is: the most beautiful girl in the world has visited me in my dreams and sings to me in the night. I will never be well until I find her. She has cheeks the colour of the yew berry and hair the colour of the dark night. Her eyes are bright lakes and her neck is white as a swan. She will not let me touch her; when I try to grasp her in my arms I wake up. Tell me how I may find her.’
The druid replied: ‘You must seek her all over Ireland; for she, like you, is one of the Sídh, and she must love you, for why else would she come to you when you sleep?’
For many months, Aonghus’s mother and his father – the great Daghdha himself – searched for the maiden with whom Aonghus had fallen in love. Their search grew more frantic as the months went on and the youth grew paler and weaker, and the flowers faded early in the fields, and the birds were silent on bare branches. Finally, they spoke to Bodhbh, the great otherworld king of Munster, who had his sídh in Slievenamon. He told them of a girl who was as fair as Aonghus’s vision. She was Caer Iobharmhéith, the sweet yew-berry, the daughter of Ethal Anbhuail of the Munster Sídh. She had been sent by her father to live at Crotta Cliach in the Galtee mountains, by the lake known as Loch Béal Dragan, a high, hidden lake in the wild mountains. The girl was under an enchantment; she went in the form of a girl and a swan in alternate years, and she was the only one who could choose which form she took. To find her, Aonghus must go to the lake on the next Samhain eve.
At the beginning of November, Bodhbh and Aonghus travelled from the Brú over bogs and river-valleys, wide plains and high, silent mountains. It was not until they had reached the edge of the lake that they could see it at all, for it was hidden in a cup in the hills. As they climbed the last slope, Aonghus listened intently, hoping to hear the sound of his beloved’s voice. But all was still and silent. Gliding over the surface of the dark waters of the lake was a multitude of shining white birds; fifty of them were attached to one another by chains of silver; but one, the most beautiful and graceful of them all, had a chain of gold.
Aonghus stood at the lakeshore, saying nothing. He did not see the shape that had enchanted him in his dreams; he saw only white swans. How could he be sure that his beloved was here? How could he know her? Standing beside him, Bodhbh said nothing. Aonghus reached out to catch the swan with the golden collar, but she flew away from him, across the water. The evening was darkening and the moon rose over the black lake.
Then the silence of the mountains was broken by Aonghus’s voice, calling the girl to him, telling her of his love. Aonghus sang of how he had dreamed of Caer for many long months, of how his life was worth nothing without her by his side.
‘Come to me!’ he sang. ‘Whatever form you take, I will cleave to you; wherever you go, I will follow. I will not oppose your will, whether you be swan or maiden; if you come to me on land, I will not hinder you from going again into the water. Only come to me now!’
And so, finally, she came, breaking the chain that bound her to her handmaidens. As the white bird set her foot on dry land, Aonghus saw that she was indeed the girl with eyes full of light who had come to him in his dreams. And at the moment of recognition, there was a further transformation. Aonghus himself stepped forward into the dark water, and in that moment he too changed; he became a great white bird, a swan to be a swan’s mate. He and the girl embraced and, as swans, took flight over the water. They circled the lake three times, and then, linked together by the golden chain, they flew northwards, over the moonlit mountains towards Brú na Bóinne. As they flew, they sang a song of such beauty and joy that all who heard it fell into a deep sleep. The inhabitants of Ireland, Sídh and human, slept for three days and three nights and had such dreams that their lives were transformed when they awoke, each one finding a world made new, full of enchantment. Caer was the wife of Aonghus from that day on, and, as part of his bridal gift, Aonghus gave her four kisses, which he forged into singing birds.
