The Emerald Isle
In May of 2023, to celebrate my fortieth year and also my parents' anniversary, we travelled to England, Wales, and Ireland. This is the lucky seventh segment of our trip.
The Irish Sea is crisscrossed with ferry routes. We opted to travel from Fishguard to Rosslare on our way to Ireland, then return from Fishguard to Pembroke Dock.
The English portion of our trip was dedicated to following up on Dad's family tree. The Welsh portion was my own concoction. Ireland was Mom's focus. Years earlier we'd met a distant cousin from Ireland at a family reunion. Now it was finally time to return the visit.
Bebe and Wally are our Irish cousins. They happen to own a beach cottage which they rent out during the tourist season in the Summer. When we spoke to them about coming to visit and compare notes on our genealogy, they kindly offered to let us use the cottage. It is gorgeous, and located a stone's throw from the sea.
My grandfather's grandfather's father emigrated from Bebe and Wally's area to Canada around two centuries ago, years before the Irish Potato famine forced so many others to follow that same route. Records from that time are tricky to find, but remnants can still be touched. Bebe took us to an old cottage - still in the family! - of the sort that our distant common ancestors inhabited. Serendipitously, it was being renovated, so we had the chance to go inside and see what lies behind the wallpaper.
I was mesmerized by the thatch roofing on the cottage, and others in the area. Our ancestral spot, Killmore Quay (In Irish, Cé Na Cille Móire), has some of the highest concentrations of thatched cottages in all of Ireland. I was surprised to learn that most of the roofs are thatched with reeds, rather than straw. The walls of the old family cottage are earthen, with an exterior whitewash.
After visiting the cottage we went to the old cemetery, where some of our ancestors are buried. It contains the ruins of a Church, which was replaced in the 1800s with a larger one in town.
Next, we explored the modern side of Killmore Quay. It is a pretty village set on a harbour, much like the ones those emigrating progenitors settled in Nova Scotia.
I was impressed by the memorial park on Killmore Quay's waterfront. The ship-shaped spot has separate dedications to those lost in conflict, work at sea, and a plane crash. It is tasteful, but has enough flavour to be frequented by children who grow up playing amidst the names of the honoured.
It was a delight to connect with Bebe and Wally. Mom had a good long conversation with Bebe, tracing the branches of the ancestral tree and swapping family stories.
Early one morning, Bebe kindly drove us back to the ferry dock. In the next segment of our trip, we returned to Wales like intrepid adventurers.