Four years ago I had the opportunity to attend a fire ceremony on the summer solstice at Rathcroghan near Tulsk in Co. Roscommon. Every summer since I’ve made it a point to go to Rathcroghan, traditionally held to be the palace of Queen Medb, on June 21st. The mound is part of a very large complex, one of the largest concentrations of ancient sites in Europe that was center of the province of Connaught. And even though archaeologists now reckon that Rathcroghan was used for religious ceremonies rather than as Medb’s court, the whole complex is associated with her and the story of The Tain which begins and ends there.
Last summer when I went there on the solstice I was sitting on the west side of the mound next to the wide, sloped walkway that the druids would have used to access the top of the mound. My eyes fell on a rock that was shaped like the hind leg of a bull. Bull, Tain, Medb, Rathcroghan – I had to take it. But I felt a little uncomfortable about it. I’ve never heard any stories about Medb wreaking havoc in the lives of those who take rocks from her home like those told about Pele in Hawaii, but the uneasiness persisted. So, before I left Phoenix in May I went into the desert behind my house and selected a rock of similar size and slipped it in my luggage.
On Tuesday, Nikki Dugie and I were supposed to go to Ballinasloe to tell stories, but at the last minute it got cancelled. So, we went instead to Tulsk to visit the Cruachan Ai interpretive center that is devoted to the Rathcroghan complex. After the tour we had a pot of tea and huge pieces of carrot cake, and then we drove up the road to visit Medb’s home. The day was mostly sunny, breezy and dry and we could see quite a distance from the top. As Nikki enjoyed the view, I returned to the place where I had taken the rock. I found a spot to wedge my Arizona rock into the soil, and then I pulled up a small piece of sod and pressed it on top of my rock to force it in deeper and to cover it with grass. Just for a moment I imagined my Arizona rock at Rathcroghan and the Rathcroghan rock in Arizona. I oriented myself to the directions and could see the line from north-east to south-west that connected the two stones.
When I walked back up to the top of the mound, I was surprised to see Nikki talking to a man. It was Mike Croghan, from the last family of Croghans still living on Rathcroghan. It took me a few minutes, but I eventually realized that I had met him before. The second summer that I was in Ireland, Mike had taken us to Oweynagat, the Cave of the Cats, traditionally held to be an entrance to the Otherworld. It is literally the stuff of legends. Mike said, “Would you like to go”? I said, “Right now, today”? He said, “Why not? I’ve got the gear in the truck”.
Within ten minutes, Nikki and were pulling on large yellow plastic pants and placing lamps on elastic bands around our foreheads as Mike led us to the entrance of the cave. It’s a deeply feminine place, a womb in the earth. The entrance is at the ground level and is shaped like a wide triangle. We slid in on our butts, scooched around a sharp turn to the left. After a few more yards of sliding, we could stand in the chamber. Inside, the cave is also triangular with steeply vaulted sides. In some places we were ankle deep in dense, sucking clay, the Irish prima materia.
On my previous trip I’d been there with about 30 people and had regretted that I barely had a moment to realize where I was. With just the three of us it was quiet and I was able to bask in the privilege of being in such a place. We turned off our headlamps and stood in darkness for a couple of minutes. Although damp and mucky, it was actually a little warmer inside than out. I had an urge, which I successfully suppressed, to free myself of my clothing and roll around in the mud. I’m sure that rolling around in primordial goddess ooze would do a body good. Something to look forward to on a future trip.
We crawled out and walked back to our vehicles. As we did, a small white butterfly flitted between and around us. Seven summers ago, when Danielle Allison and I went to the Hill of Uisneach for the first time, white butterflies accompanied us back to our car as well. I thought of the story of Butterfly Soul, and I quickly told it to Mike.
We thanked Mike for his spontaneity and generosity. He did admit to having a not so hidden agenda. He leads tours all around the area and asked us to take brochures, which we did. Check out his website, which includes a virtual tour of the cave, and be sure to call him for a tour of this amazing site. He is an excellent, knowledgeable guide and in our case, I’d say a gift from the goddess.
The photos from the top: on the mound, the druids path, the entrance to the cave, Nikki and I in the cave, near the far end of the cave, coming back out, Nikki emerging, Mike emerging, and a panoramic view from the top of Rathcroghan with Nikki.
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