There is nothing like the sight of milk-white hairy legs in kilts to make one shiver involuntarily. When this is combined with near freezing temperatures and hailstones simultaneously smacking you in the face, the more likely reaction is to turn and run terrified towards the nearest warm bar. These were the sights and sensations that confronted me last Saint Patrick’s Day morning on Achill Island. But I didn't turn and run. In fact, I was smiling at the improbability of it all while feeling sorry for the owners of those legs as they stomped the ground in the vain hope of restoring circulation to their exposed limbs.
Achill Island, off the coast of County Mayo is Ireland's largest island. Though it is connected to the mainland by a bridge it has a character and set of traditions all its own, which are proudly maintained and boasted of by the locals. These people are islanders for sure. It will take more than a man made bridge to change them, or the place they call home.
The owners of those scarily hairy legs were members of Achill's pipe bands. Every year since 1950 or so the pipe bands from villages across Achill march from their home parish to the church in Keel near the centre of the island. They set off in the dark at 6am so as to arrive in Keel in time for the 9am mass. This tradition is known as "the meeting of the bands". They play in their home parish (to summon the locals from their beds) before setting off to meet their fellow pipers from all over the island at Keel. Bedraggled locals scramble from bed and proudly follow their band on foot across the island to the meeting.
Lucky for us we were staying in Keel so had only a few hundred yards to walk to witness all the bands coming together. Each band has upwards of fifty members. They take turns belting out hair-raising tunes in the grounds of the church to the delight of the assembled crowds. There is apparently great competition and rivalry between the bands, but on Paddy's Day they come together to celebrate being Irish, but even more importantly to celebrate Achill, their unique island home.
But mass at Keel is only the start, these hardy pipers spend the whole day marching from parish to parish stopping in to every pub along the route to play, warm their bones and get fed and watered. If they’re lucky they will make it back to their local pub by 11pm. That is a long day! In a kilt in freezing weather it sounds more like torture to me but that is what they do. I haven’t checked the Guinness Book of Records on this, but it has to be the longest St Patrick’s Day parade held anywhere.
But hang on a second. Guys in kilts? Knee socks? Tartan uniforms? Playing bag pipes? And that unmistakeable bagpipe sound! I was on Achill Island on the west coast of Ireland on Paddy's Day but suddenly I felt Scottish! Not that there's anything wrong with that. The Scots make great whiskey after all and more power to them. But wasn't this a little strange? The pipe instrument of choice in Ireland is the uilleann pipe, but here were the islanders on Ireland's western most tip playing the Scottish bag pipes. An explanation was required.
It cost me the price of a hot whiskey but I eventually got an answer. I cornered a band member later that evening and this is the gist of what he said:
"Many years ago and possibly for centuries before that the farmers and labourers of Achill used travel to Scotland to pick potatoes to make some extra cash. They got rather friendly with the locals, as was their wont, and of a Friday or Saturday evening used teach each other tunes and tell tales of their homeland. The tradition of migrating to Scotland eventually died out, but over the years a few people on Achill had become quite proficient on the bag pipes. But it took a man by the name of Hughie Connaghan from Aranmore Island in Donegal to turn piping into the tradition it is on Achill today. He emigrated to Scotland in the 30’s and quickly became an avid bag piper. During his time there he was also lucky enough to meet his future wife who was from – you guessed it – Achill Island. It took very little persuasion on her part to convince him that the two of them should up sticks and move back to Achill. This they did in the mid 40’s. In the ensuing cultural revolution Hughie began giving bag pipe lessons to a number of the willing locals. And before you could say "can you bag pipe me that in Irish?", he was responsible for the formation of four local pipe bands. Suddenly the whole island was bag-piping. And we haven't stopped ever since. It's now our proudest tradition. Not just Paddy's Day and New Year's Eve, but Connacht Finals, wet days, sunny days, windy days and especially Hughie’s birthday.”
Achill Island has a population of approximately 2,700 and it appeared to me that they were all on first name terms with each other. Everyone knew everyone else and all anyone seemed to talk about was what a great place Achill Island is. Once or twice I'm sure I even detected a look of pity when I was forced to confess that I was in fact a mainlander.
The next day we got a chance to explore the island properly and I had to conclude the locals had it right. Achill certainly is a beautiful place. The landscape is wild and open; you know instinctively you are on the edge of a continent. Great mountains rise up on the west side of the island ending abruptly in steep cliffs that plunge into the Atlantic. The 40 kilometre Atlantic Drive takes in the most dramatic scenery. Achill also has numerous gorgeous sandy beaches nestled in coves and sheltered valleys. The beach at Keem Bay in particular is stunning. Of course this was March with showers sweeping in off the steely grey water. Invigorating, powerful weather it may be, but it is hardly beach weather.
I resolved there and then to return in the summer when the sun was shining and the living was just a little easier. Perhaps the next time I see those legs they won't be quite so white and instead of shivering goose-pimpled under kilts, they'll be frolicking on the beach in swimming trunks. Alas, this fantasy has not yet come true; instead I am returning to Achill for Paddy’s Day again this year. If you are in the neighbourhood stop by the Annex in Keel for a truly memorable Paddy’s Day with a difference. |
