From Youghal to Ring County Waterford, by Bike: : By Mike Hackett

(Mike Hackett on a visit to us in Kilminnion South) An Rinn, Dungarvan agus Garryvoe, Knockadoon were places where the Gaeilge was spoken in the 1950s. An Rinn is still flying the flag for the native language but as the old people in the Knockadoon area have left us the speaking of the Gaeilge has weakened there very much. Ardmore was another good location where the ‘Blas’ was heard. Alas! A good shake-up is needed there to restore that lovely village to a Breac-Gaeltacht area. Anyway to get on with today’s stories. Many years ago, as they say ‘Fado Fado’, a pal and I decided to cycle to An Rinn from Youghal to attend a ceili dance there. A few girls that we knew were staying at the Colaiste for the summer and we were invited by them to visit for a ceili. The pal had a ‘crush’ on one of the girls; Anne Lombard of Friar Street, and he felt that a cycle of eighteen miles would be worth her smiles. He talked me into making the trip with him. This pal, Tommy (R.I.P.), was the youngest of a family and his sisters had bought him a brand new bike for his sixteenth birthday. It was the best type available with dynamo lights, three speed gears and it was very colourful. Compare that with what yours truly had to cycle on for the eighteen miles of the hilly country roads of West-Waterford. It was an old bike that my father had bought from a cousin, Mary O’Sullivan, who was going to Australia. He paid her fifteen pounds for it and that was in 1958 when money was scarce. It was a girl’s bike, had no gears, no dynamo and was a plain black colour. It became a family bike for our house to be used by anybody who wanted it.

Nobody was offering to buy me a new bike so that was my only way of transport to An Rinn. Then on a nice summer evening, away the two of us went on our bikes over the bridge and into the ‘County’. We felt well able for the challenge and adventure that lay ahead. Daylight stayed with us on the way past Grange, Old Parish and down the hill into An Rinn. A very pleasant cycle saw us arrive at twilight. Then finding the place of the ceile was easy enough and we entered the crowded hall without anybody challenging us. There was no admission charge and maybe we were taken for students. Great! The girls approached us and warned us about talking Bearla. They said that we would be evicted if found to be speaking English. Our Gaeilge was not great and so we spent the night smiling and dancing like we were dumb. The ceili dancing we had some idea of, having attended the Sunday nights at the Town Hall occasionally. The names of the dances as announced in Gaeilge took us unawares though because back at home it was English names. The Siege of Ennis and Military Twostep were familiar to us but we had to wait for the dancers to form up before we recognised it and joined in. Falla Luimnai (Walls of Limerick) was the only name as Gaeilge that we knew. We managed to copy everybody else and no doubt we would have learned soon if given a few nights at it. Smiling, giggling and dancing gan aon caint (without any talk). About eleven o’clock it was over. Time to say ‘Slan’ to the cailini and to hit the road again. As we climbed back up the hill with our bikes towards Old Parish, it was a fine night and the moon was big in the sky. Life was good! Traffic was very sparse at midnight on those country roads and the pal on his new bike shone his bright light on the road ahead of us. It must have been well after midnight when we crossed back over the Blackwater from one county to the other heading for home.

(Mikes Dad pictured with Tommy Flavin.) Thinking back later about our journey, it never dawned on us about getting a puncture and apart from the chain on that old girl’s bike of mine coming off once on the way back, things went well. Tommy, who was a kind and generous guy, went to his reward recently R.I.P. Two of the teachers of the Gaeilge during those summers at An Rinn were Seamus McGovern of Castlemartyr and Diarmuid O’Drisceoil of Ballinlough Cork. Both were unknown to me at that time. As life evolved afterwards, a son of Seamus, Donal, married my sister-in-law Marcella and they live in Abbeyside. Diarmuid and his wife Josie turned out to be great friends of my mother-in-law Ina Murphy of Ballinlough. However, that information was to be realised by me later in life. Another memory comes to mind of a trip to a Gaeilge summer college in Garryvoe near Knockadoon. This outing was organised for a whole class by the C.B.S. school and was by private bus. That bus was owned and driven by Paddy Lawlor who had a garage in the Strand. The same vehicle was hired to drive the under-age teams to all the championship matches in East Cork. Later in life, when Paddy retired, he came to live in West Waterford at Moord, Monatrea. But to tell about the Garryvoe outing. A Brother Canden was in charge of the events of the day and he was strict on the use of the Gaeilge. We were treated very well with lots to eat for lunch and we played games afterwards on the sand. At one stage I made a remark to a guy beside me “Fuar mise nearly whole box of bruscai”. “I got nearly a whole box of biscuits”. This remark was heard by another guy (a sneak) who reported me for saying those four words in English and Br. Canden spoke of it in class the next day, without mentioning my name. As it happened I had won a home-made knitted pullover for coming second in a race on the strand and the Brother said that the boy who spoke English (me) should not have got a prize. What he didn’t know was that it was a badly knitted garment and my mother had to rip it all and knit it again. Brother Canden died a few years ago in Dublin but not before he returned to Youghal to take a last trip up the Blackwater for old time sake. He was in a wheel-chair then, suffering from some form of pains but still managed to make the trip. No doubt he was speaking as Gaeilge. R.I.P. Buiochas do mo chara Eddie Cantwell. Mike Hackett.