Donegal Rocks

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The subject heading says it all. I embarked on a Donegalese adventure on monday morning after a great weekend in Sligo. Sunday was kind of an archaelogical tour of County Sligo as I traveled around and saw all the touristy sites that is on every Irish tour company itinerary. We saw a waterfall, the tomb of W.B. Yeats, the tomb of Turlough O'Carolan the legendary 18th century blind harpist from County Meath. The coolest thing we saw was this site filled with 5000 year old (now this is pre-Celtic) stone rings which is believed to be ancient burial sites. The massive stones comprising these things aren't even from around there which means someone shlepped them from 4 miles away before the age of 18-wheelers. So that was Sligo.

County Donegal rocks (no pun intended.....sorry to the geography majors, but yea the county is a pretty rocky chunk of Earth...a beautiful chunk nonetheless). I made it as far as Donegal town on Monday evening. I was supposed to end up in this town 22 miles north which is fantastic for music and famous across the county. So I began hiking up the highway with my thumb flailing around in the rain as cars raced by. A few minutes into it this German backpacker emerged and I struck up a conversation. 2 wet foreigners at it alone chatting by the highway. After he went off hostel-hunting I got a lift from this really nice guy who took me as far as the road for Adara (the destination town). I then got another lift from a ginger fella (quite a lot of those up here) and he took me to these crossroads which was literally 10 miles east of civilization. I finally got a lift into town with a Mr. Brendan McGill which meant we were instant friends, having the same surname and all. Evidently McGill is the most common surname around that town and one lady in town even mistook me for the relative of a McGill who recently got married (only after hearing my name of course). I showed up at the Cornerhouse Pub fiddle-in-hand only to discover that there was a mic already set up for me and I was to be the show. So I played with the pubowner who was a brilliant fiddler/accordeonist/guitarist/mandolin player. At one point it was me, 3 guitarists and a bodhran..amplifiers blaring. I tried to smile through the cacophony of strings as the South African and French tourists smiled back at me.

The next day I met up with the one and only Tommy Peoples, a great fiddler from the east of Donegal. We took the scenic route (several times) to various destinations in the Northwest of the country where they still learn Irish as their mothertongue. I walked into a community center in Gweedore, Donegal and all the high school kids were rambling away in Irish (with English obscenities for a little linguistic pizazz). I don't think any of them had ever heard an American accent before.

I spent last night with the happiest man in Irish music, Mr. Danny Meehan. This guy is 250 lbs of chuckling, rambling, gesticulating fun and is fiercely proud of his 6 foot tall potato plants in the backyard (the first thing he shows every visitor to his house). His house by the way is named "Tarbolton" after the popular Irish reel. In fact, you're not allowed to leave the house until you have played that tune. I played it....twice. He asks us if we want tea and of course we oblige. Then he throws 3 dirty tea cups at us and a stack of napkins and with a pearly-yellow grin says :'there y'are, you can clean'em out yerselves' The fridge door....falling off. He sleeps with country music blaring in his room all night long. This guy has to be met to be believed. We had great fun and Tommy, Danny, and I played tunes until 1 in the morning. In between tunes he'd tell stories about some of the most legendary Irish fiddle players you've ever heard. I hope this installment finds you well. Stay tuned......more tales to come..

andrew

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