A-Z Blogging Challenge - M is for Mist Na Mara

Mist Na Mara house is a product of my imagination. It was the house Jenna and Guy jointly inherited in Irish Inheritance, and from the moment I started the novel, I could see it in my mind.

Here’s the heroine’s first view of the front of the house:

Built of grey stone, Mist Na Mara House had a central doorway, flanked on both sides by long sash windows and, at each end of the frontage, large square bay windows on the ground and upper floors.

I knew roughly where the house was situated (near Clifden in the west of Ireland) but had to ignore the fact that this area only has a few isolated stone cottages, and some modern white bungalows. This was where I wanted my house to be, so I put it there anyway!

And this was the view from the front of the house:

Jenna turned and let her eyes take in the panoramic view. Not only did they overlook the narrow bay and the low green hills on the far shore, but they were high enough to see another stretch of water beyond and some larger hills. On their left were the peaks of the Twelve Bens, and to their right, broken by a few rocky islets, was the vast grey expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.

The inside of the house was sharply focused in my mind, too:

Once inside, she stared around, hardly able to take in the elegance of the large hallway with oak wainscoting and polished parquet floor. In the centre stood a rosewood pedestal table on an ornately carved column, and a crystal chandelier sparkled in the sun’s rays through the arched fanlight above the door. On each side of the hallway were two solid oak doors, much broader than modern doorways. Ahead of them, a wide wooden staircase curved upwards, with a brass handrail and wrought iron balusters, and a corridor at the side of the stairs led to the back of the house.

And, of course, there was the bedroom which had been locked for over 70 years, and my hero and heroine were the first to see it, but I won’t post any spoilers here about that!

Originally I called the house Sea Mist House – but then  discovered there was a hotel with that name in Clifden. One of my friends in Dublin (thank you, Ellen Brickley!) came to my rescue, with the half-English, half Irish name of Mist Na Mara – meaning ‘mist of the sea’.

The house has played a part in all my Irish novels, as it became an arts and drama/dance centre, and gained a large extension, a restored cottage, and also a barn conversion. I am now so familiar with the place, I find it hard sometimes to remember it is not actually a ‘real’ place.

Imagination is definitely a wonderful thing! And one comment by a reviewer was especially pleasing: The description of the old house, Mist Na Mara, was excellent. I walked around the house in my head, I could picture the bedrooms, the kitchen, and even the drive up to it.

It’s great when something you have invented captures someone else’s imagination!

By the way, I’ve never (yet) found a photo of a house that matches my vision of Mist Na Mara, so maybe it really is a ‘one-off’!

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Wireless and Winners

What's the link between today's cell phones and transatlantic flights? The answer is Clifden, a small town in the west of Ireland, which was the scene of two hugely significant events in the early 20th century.

The first was due to the Italian inventor, Guglielmo Marconi, who successfully developed long-distance wireless telegraphy. Determined to send wireless signals across the Atlantic, he established a transmitting station in Cornwall, but after some difficulties there, he decided to move his station as far west as he could. The site he chose was Clifden or, to be exact, Derrygimlagh Bog, about three miles south of Clifden.

The station officially opened in 1907, and commercial signalling began between Clifden and Glace Bay in Nova Scotia, Canada on 17th October. Buildings on the site included a power house with 6 boilers and a huge condenser building as well as houses for the workers. There was a also a massive aerial system with 8 wooden masts, each 210 feet high. The sparks from these could be heard over a wide distance and resembled lightning. Fifty people were employed at the station, and a further seventy were also employed cutting peat to fuel the steam generators.

When advances were later made in technology, a more powerful station was built in North Wales but the Clifden Station remained operative until it was attacked and burned by Republican ‘irregulars’ in 1922. It was closed down after this, and the buildings gradually fell into disrepair.

The second event came twelve years after the Marconi station opened. In June 1919 British aviators John Alcock and Arthur Whitten-Brown left St John’s, Newfoundland, flying their Vickers VIMY biplane. Although there had been previous flights across the Atlantic Ocean, theirs was the first non-stop journey, lasting 16 hours and 27 minutes.

It wasn’t an easy journey – at one time due to thick fog, they were unable to navigate with their sextant and twice almost came down in the sea. The batteries for their heated suits failed, meaning they were freezing cold in the open cockpit – but evidently their coffee was laced with whisky! Half way through the night, they ran into a snowstorm and Brown had to climb out onto the wings to clear the ice from the engines' air intakes.

Their choice of Clifden as a landing place was deliberate because of the Marconi station. Several years earlier, the Daily Mail newspaper had offered a prize of £10,000 (over £1 million in today’s money) to any pilot who could fly an airplane across the Atlantic within 72 hours. Alcock and Brown were aware of other contenders for this prize and wanted to make sure the news of their arrival in Ireland was telegraphed to London as soon as possible.

They looked for a meadow on which to land and mistook the boggy surface near the Marconi station for hard ground. A man in the transmitter building tried in vain to warn them, but they thought he was waving a welcome! As they touched down, they sank into the mud and the plane nosed over into the soggy peat. A somewhat ignominious ending to a triumphant flight, but at least neither of them was hurt. The man in the transmitter building rushed out to them and asked where they'd come from. 'Canada', said Brown. 'We were there yesterday - and we're the only two people in Europe who can say that.' And it was a local reporter from the Connacht Tribune who got the scoop of the century by interviewing the two aviators. 

These two huge landmarks in the history of communications and transport went on to change the face of the 20th century- and Clifden saw them both. Not bad for a small out-of-the-way town in the west of Ireland, was it?

The memorial to Alcock and Brown's landing at Derrygimlagh
but (a) it's not at the place where they actually landed
and (b) for some unknown reason it shows a modern tail fin
although they flew a biplane!

Derrygimlagh Bog, taken from the site of the memorial - and the actual landing
place is the white speck in the far distance which is a large monolith. At least it is
now painted white (which it wasn't when I first visited the site!)

Pictures of Alcock and Brown, and other information about their
flight, displayed in Mannion's Bar in Clifden  

Clifden, the 'capital' of Connemara

My four Irish novels are soon to be republished (with brand new covers!) so here is an introduction to the small town of Clifden, which provides the setting for them all.

 Clifden (An Clochán in Irish, meaning stepping stones) is situated on the west coast of Ireland, between the Atlantic Ocean and the ‘Twelve Bens’ of Connemara.

It was founded by John D’Arcy who inherited the estate at the beginning of the 19th century (and built a castle overlooking Clifden Bay). At the time the area was inhabited mainly by fishermen and farmers, until D’Arcy decided to establish a town and also a road to Galway (now the N59).

John D'Arcy's castle (now in ruins)
overlooking Clifden Bay

Originally it had three streets, forming a triangle - Main Street, Market Street and Bridge Street, with Main and Market meeting at the market square, and Bridge Street linking the other ends of those two streets.

Looking up Market Street from the open area where the
market used to take place

Looking down Market Street toward the market place
and Christ Church (Church of Ireland)

Main Street and St. Joseph's Roman Catholic Church

By 1839 the town had grown to 185 dwellings, most of them three-floored, two churches, two hotels, three schools, a police barracks, courthouse, a gaol, a distillery and 23 pubs, and it had a population of about 1,000. It suffered during the Potato Famine in the 1840s and didn’t recover until the end of the 19th century when a railway was built to link it to Galway.

The town from the harbour

In the second half of the 20th century, Clifden became a popular centre for many different outdoor pursuits – hiking, cycling, sailing, fishing, horse-riding and golf. For the less energetic, there is a variety of shops from sweater shops and boutiques to antiques and art, and of course the tourist souvenir shops. Needless to say, there are also plenty of pubs, some genuinely ‘old’ Irish and others more trendy. In many of them, there is live music most evenings.

It's definitely one of my favourite Irish towns! Friendly people, interesting shops, excellent food, great craic - and even better when the rain stops and the sun comes out! 

Next week I’ll tell you more about Clifden’s history and its surroundings.

'Irish Inheritance' - Clifden

My next novel, ‘Irish Inheritance’, (to be published shortly) is set mainly in Ireland, as its title suggests, so for the next few weeks, I’ll introduce you to some of the places that feature in the novel.

 

To start with: Clifden

 

Clifden is a small town on the coast of County Galway in the west of Ireland. The Irish name, An Clochán, means "stepping stones”, and it’s sometimes called the "the Capital of Connemara", which I’ll tell you more about in a later post. Clifden is situated on the Owenglen River where it flows into Clifden Bay and is a popular tourist destination for those touring Connemara.

The town was founded in the 19th century by John D’Arcy, who lived in Clifden Castle (now a ruin). Until then the area was inhabited mainly by farmers and fishermen. D’Arcy organised the construction of a quay, and also a road to Galway City, and the town began to grow. By 1839, when D’Arcy died, it had become a town of 185 dwellings, two churches, two hotels, three schools, a courthouse and jail, a distillery – and 23 pubs!

Its prosperity ended when the Great Famine started in 1845. By 1848, nearly all the population was on government relief, landlords went bankrupt, and many people emigrated to America. It was another fifty years before Clifden started to grow again, when a railway was built in 1895.

Now it has become a popular tourist destination, offering spectacular scenery on its doorstep, a wide variety of outdoor activities, and 5000 years of history. It is also claiming the title of ‘Gourmet Capital of the West’, with fine-dining restaurants and hotels, and of course many pubs, ranging from traditional to trendy.

Two events brought Clifden into the world spotlights in the early 19th century. In 1909 Marconi set up the first transatlantic wireless telegraphy station about four miles south of the town and eventually over 400 people were employed there.

The Alcock and Brown Memorial, near Clifden

In 1919, Derrygimla Bog, near to the wireless station, saw the end of the very first transatlantic flight when Alcock and Brown landed their Vickers Vimy airplane there after their 16 hours flight from St. John’s, Newfoundland. They thought they were landing on a green field, but this turned out to be a bog, and their plane nosedived into the marshy ground. Fortunately neither man was injured.

 

Weekend Writing Warriors

Another eight sentences from ‘Irish Inheritance’, my current work in progress. Having been told she is about to inherit a large sum of money and a share of a house in Ireland, Jenna is then informed she needs to go to Dublin to meet with someone from the Irish law firm dealing with the estate. Her lawyer says he will contact her employer and request leave of absence for her. Here is Jenna's response:

 

“Actually, Mr. Haslam, I don’t have an employer, at least not at the moment. I’m an actress and I’m—er—between jobs at the moment.”

 

“I see.” The lawyer cleared his throat, and Jenna had the impression she might as well have said she was a nightclub stripper. “Well, of course, that simplifies things.”

 

Not really, she thought, twisting her lips wryly, but maybe Charley would lend her the money for a quick trip to Dublin. No, hold on. If she was due to inherit twenty-five thousand pounds plus half a house, perhaps she could get some kind of advance.

 

Many thanks for visiting each week, and for your comments. I’m delighted you like the beginning of this story!

 

 

This is a photo of the small town of Clifden in the west of Couny Galway,

where a lot of this story will take place.

 

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