TARA BY TOM TALLON Have you ever noticed when Irish people meet fellow countrymen for the first time, and after exchanging pleasantries, one of the first questions asked is “what part of the old country do you come from?” The reply to this will allow both to innocently apply preconceived prejudices to each other without saying so. A question or statement to the effect that half the counties of Ireland can be seen from atop the Hill of Tara sometimes pops up, when I mention I come from Meath. Having been to the summit a number of times over the years, I was unable to verify this, as the weather conditions obscured the view in one or more directions. However on my last visit, the country basked in glorious sunshine for weeks, so I took advantage of the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity. The Hill of Tara is located in a geological area known as The Drumlins. These are elongated hills in the shape of a half-buried eggs, formed during the last Ice Age, that ended about twelve thousand years ago. For those of you who have climbed Croagh Patrick in Mayo, you are presented with a perfect picture of what a Drumlin field looks like if you caste your gaze over Clew Bay, all those islands are drumlins that are half submerged. The first thing that strikes you as you head for the hill, is that you do not climb it. Rather, you arrive at the top. As you follow the road signs on the narrow country roads, with hedgerows closing in on you from both sides, you lose sight of any reference points that would indicate your ascent. Suddenly the vistas open out before your eyes, as you pull into the car park. Make your way to the crown of the hill topped with the Stone of Destiny. The elevation at this point is 150 metres, which seems rather quaint considering the Great Pyramid of Egypt is higher by ten metres. If the weather conditions are favourable the views will take your breath away. On my visit I naturally looked towards Dublin city. Due to a natural phenomenon
The first thing that strikes you as you head for the hill, is that you do not climb it. Rather, you arrive at the top. known as “Atmospheric Refraction”, the city looked incredibly close. I imagined I could skip a stone across Dublin Bay from where I stood. I suggest a pair of binoculars be taken to make identification of distant landmarks easier - something I forgot to pack. Even with 20/20 vision, faraway objects are blurred due to atmospheric pollution or was that the syrup consumed the previous night. Looking Northeast, the Mourne Mountains can be viewed. South of Dublin city are the Dublin mountains with the Wicklow mountains looking over them. Turning your gaze southwest, a small bump on the horizon is most likely Arderin on the border of counties Laos and Offaly, the highest point in the Slieve Bloom Mountains. On this day when I looked West the area was blanketed in a haze, but speaking to the old chap looking after the bookshop at the site he assured me that the outline of mountains in the west could be seen in favourable conditions. Turning my gaze to the Northwest there was the unmistakeable outline of Ben Bulben. Once again I was looking over parts of counties Cavan, Longford, Leitrim, Roscommon and Sligo from where I stood. This is where the statement that half the counties of Ireland can be seen from Tara might fall down. Ben Bulben is in county Sligo, and like other distant landmarks that stand out in the landscape, the countryside in between is just part of a green carpet. Looking North, the view was completely obscured by the Border – only kidding – it was the cluster of large trees blocking the view. As I moved to explore other parts of the site the thought of looking for other
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