A series of essays....
 |
| FOLLOWING THE ROAD TO DOWNPATRICK HEAD |
....as seen through my eyes!
 |
| MARY'S COTTAGE KITCHEN |
By: Jacqueline E. Hughes
Most of us wake-up to multiple sources of input even before arriving at the morning’s destination of work, school, or visiting a friend for coffee and conversation. The morning news, YouTube videos, and weather forecasts circle within our brains like the farmhouse in The Wizard of Oz while fragmented visions of unnecessary walls, various video tutorials, and colorful umbrellas encompass the little, white house in a mass confusion of swirling bits and pieces.
Today, I’m not going to allow these hollow fragments to haunt me. Today, I’m thinking about Mary, homemade raspberry scones with lots of creamy butter, and the pure charm of the local Irish people.
 |
| SCENIC DRIVE TO BALLYCASTLE |
 |
| ROLLING HILLS AND STONE WALLS |
You see, it all began when Dan and I decided to take a road trip up to meet the Wild Atlantic Way and follow it to the village of Ballycastle and visit the windswept outcrop of Downpatrick Head located just north of the village. Our hope was to find a quaint little eatery in Ballycastle and enjoy a homemade breakfast with the locals before finding the famous stone sea-stack standing close to the edge of the cliffs we were seeking.
This sea-stack is called Dún Briste (broken fort) and legend has it that when a pagan chieftain refused to convert to Christianity, Saint Patrick struck the ground with his crozier (staff), splitting a chunk of the headland off into the ocean, leaving the chieftain on top! The sea-stack is beautiful to behold because you can see layers upon layers of multi-colored rock strata easily dating the land back millions of years, long before the dinosaurs roamed the earth.
 |
| DUN BRISTE IS WAY OFF IN THE DISTANCE, JUTTING OUT TO SEA |
 |
| IN THE FOREGROUND: THE RUINS OF SAINT PATRICK'S CHURCH. IN THE BACKGROUND: THE WWII LOOKOUT POST. |
The coastline of County Mayo can be rugged and wild while it curiously curves around the North Atlantic Ocean as you follow the Wild Atlantic Way. The designated signs allow you to follow this road quite easily and, I promise you, it will take you on adventures you will never find by tour bus. I always recommend renting a car whenever possible while traversing Ireland in order to get into all of the brilliant nooks and crannies and offbeat tracks that this craggy island has to offer.
Making it up the final hill with Ballycastle within sight, lo and behold, the very first sign we came across was Mary’s Cottage Kitchen! “That was certainly easy, wasn’t it?” I said, thoroughly delighted with our instant find and anticipating a cuppa or two in my near future.
“The stone façade is very inviting,” Dan added and we were instantly swept into the little structure by the strong wind at our back as soon as we opened the rustic front door.
 |
| ~~ MARY ~~ |
“Hello. Hello, and a good morning to ya!” Mary’s kind voice preceded her physical presence as our eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight to the dimness of the cottage’s interior. “Hello and please sit wherever you’d like. Indeed, my name is Mary and I’m gonna see what Beth here would like to have this morning and I will be right with ya. Make yourselves at home, won’t ya?”
As Mary glided over to Beth’s table, we sat down at a small one near a front window and were now able to see our surroundings quite nicely, as well as our intriguing host. From the ‘happy’ yellow walls to the solid oak tables and chairs that mimicked my Mother’s dining set but represented over twenty-one years of constant wear and tear contributed to by hungry local workers, farmers, ladies out for tea and scones, and families seeking refuge from having to cook dinner in their own kitchen one night a week...Mary’s Cottage Kitchen lived up to its name.
 |
| OUR VIEW OUT TO BALLYCASTLE |
 |
| WE APPRECIATED THEIR KEEN SENSE OF HUMOR |
After perusing the menu inside and out, we determined that Mary must have a unique sense of humor and may show a little jealousy towards Bart, her husband, when hair color and age are concerned. “Canna get you both something to drink?” her warm smile imploring us to order and stay awhile. Walking away to make my tea and pour Dan a cup of coffee, it dawned on me what she reminded me of in a quirky sort of way. “Mary looks like a train engineer with her white hat and striped apron, don’t you think?” I asked Dan who was watching two men blowing in from the front doorway. “Maybe a little bit. I just think she’s adorable!”
 |
| MARY TAKING BETH'S ORDER |
The two newcomers sat down at the table near us and made themselves at home. With one blink of an eye Mary was bringing out two steaming cups of black coffee and placing them in front of the men. “Hello, Cal! What’s up, Pat? Will it be the same as usual today? Yes, I thought so. Hope the world is treating you both well. Won’t be a moment, all right?” And, as if the front door had been left wide open, she blew straight back into her tiny kitchen.
Shortly afterward, Mary emerged with tea and coffee in hand accompanied by fresh lemon wedges and honey and eager to take our breakfast order. When we saw that she offered poached eggs on toast with a side of rashers, there was no way we could resist. “Now, you get a side basket of bread, too, don’t ya know. I can fill it up with brown bread and a side of my mixed-berry jam, homemade and sweet as heaven. And, with your eggs, you’ll have a raspberry scone I made just this morning and practically hot from the oven.” With our mouths watering and tummies rumbling, about all we could do was nod our genuine approval as Mary turned to speak with Beth a few feet away.
 |
| AHH! THE PERFECT BREAKFAST! |
 |
| DAN ENJOYING HIS BROWN BREAD |
Now, the local men near us were carrying on a quiet conversation when Mary reappeared from the back like a choreographed dancer holding two steaming plates of eggs, rashers, and toast. Slipping one plate gently down before each man, she asked what more she could bring them and said she’d be talking later about a construction job she might have for them, soon.
“Do you notice how very few words are spoken and yet...everyone seems to know what everyone else is thinking? It’s as though spending enough time in close proximity together has enabled them to read one another’s mind,” Dan observed. I agreed wholeheartedly when Mary, quite the one person show, was bringing our own plates out to be placed down before us. Could she see how we were salivating in genuine anticipation?
 |
| MARY'S DISPLAY CASE OF HOMEMADE DELIGHTS! |
Discreetly wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I asked Mary if she created all of the scrumptious baked goods displayed in the glass case behind her, along with the brown bread and fruited scones. “Every day I wake-up early to work in the kitchen creating different delights to sell. Today it is raspberry scones but, tomorrow it will be strawberry or blueberry. I go by what’s available to me at the time. My jams are made in the late summer days when the fruit is the freshest it can be and then they are ready to bring out throughout the colder months.”
It was such fun listening to her speak, her charming accent spreading joy to our ears. Before leaving us to devour our goodies, she asked, “Are ya bound for Downpatrick Head this morning? If so, be fairly careful. The wind is mighty powerful (pointing out the front window). The view of Dún Briste is stunning but the wind off of the North Atlantic can be a wicked ting.” We were both thinking that heeding a local’s advice was probably quite prudent.
Having finished our grand meal, a pot of brewed tea, and two cups of coffee, Dan was paying our bill while I was running all about taking pictures of Mary’s Cottage Kitchen. Mary gave us both a genuine hug good-bye and said she’d more than likely be there if and when we ever returned to Ballycastle. We decided we could not return without seeing Mary again!
 |
| FOLLOWING THE WILD ATLANTIC WAY |
 |
| THE NORTH ATLANTIC IN THE DISTANCE |
 |
| WHERE BLUE SKIES MEET THE BLUE SEA.... |
Turning our rental car north to the coast we followed the signs leading us to the famous sea-stack and the mighty cliffs of Downpatrick Head. “Oh, look at that view, Dan! Please stop,” I pleaded for, at least, the fiftieth time that day. By now Dan was quite familiar with my need to shoot practically everything in sight! With a country as naturally beautiful as Ireland, this can be a very time consuming affair. But, so well worth it in the end. “Don’t worry, I’m pulling over here,” he explained with a smile on his face.
“Stunningly beautiful! What more can I say?” I exclaimed while madly clicking away.
 |
| ENJOYING THE MAGNIFICENT LIGHT AND THE CRASHING WAVES |
 |
| THE VIBRANCY AND COLOR OF LAND AND SEA |
 |
| THE BEAUTY OF DOWNPATRICK HEAD |
Parking the car and arming ourselves with woolen scarves and warm gloves, we prepared ourselves for an invigorating coastal walk up green slopes dotted with grazing sheep, around Poll N’a Seantainne, a magnificent blowhole that plummets down to the tempestuous ocean below, and a small stone building built near the edge of the cliff that served as a lookout post during World War II. The name Downpatrick is derived from a time when St Patrick himself founded a church here. We could still see the ruins of the church building, a stone cross, and a holy well nearby.
And, of course, there was the glorious Dún Briste majestically floating yards out to sea and resembling a giant layered cream torte baked to perfection over the span of many centuries. Dan snapped several pictures of this decadent slice of historic importance and has had it as his screen saver ever since.
 |
| GRAVEL PATH TO THE TOP OF THE CLIFFS |
 |
| POLL N'a SEANTAINNE BLOWHOLE |
 |
| DARKENING SKIES AND SUNSHINE.... PERFECT LIGHTING!!! |
“Look at the dark clouds and mist rolling in. I believe we’re in for a big storm,” Dan said, as our fascination with the place had yet to ebb. With wide eyes I noted that I’d not taken the time to notice the thick cloud cover approaching us from far out at sea. It was a living, breathing white fog that had designs on engulfing the deep blue waters and the rolling landscape neatly bordered by rocky cliffs. “Let’s move now because we have quite a hike down to the car park,” I replied, a bit anxiously.
 |
| THE GLORIOUS DUN BRISTE |
How many Irish men, women, and children stood along this same spot, year after year, watching the sea mist devour their land and homes in a matter of a few moments? The sea is a powerful force filled with mystery that takes up a large space in the history of Ireland and defines her people. On that particular day in early October, this fact was never more evident to us. We, also, learned to respect the land and the majestic cliffs that constantly work at keeping the mighty sea at bay.
 |
| HEADING BACK TO BALLYCASTLE IN THE MIST AND RAIN |
Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved
Photo copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved
