Tobairín Dónail, Rathcormack Mountain

This well was discovered at the end of a long and hard day’s exploration – see last week’s blog. It’s one of those wells that I have looked at on the map and sighed for it looked very remote and difficult to get too- also the name of the townland Rathcormack Mountain was a bit off putting.

On closer inspection of the map there did seems to be a path of sorts leading to the well and I believed it was still revered so it had to be doable. Today was the day.

I parked in a handy layby and surveyed the scene. A wide muddy track lead off into the woods, vehicle access barred by large rocks placed across the entrance.

A feeling of disenchantment arose as I looked at the heaps of rubbish thrown onto each side of the boreen – old mattresses, overflowing bin bags.

The path eventually turned into into a field, claggy and difficult to walk on and I kept to the edge which was wooded and a bit spooky. It soon opened up into an oddly well kept and expansive track, and I realised I was quite high up. Presumably the track ended at a farmhouse but the GPS now told me to cut across the field and take a sharp turn to the right, aiming for a wooded copse down by the river valley. I think the original path to the well once followed the river but this was now very overgrown.

It’s started to rain, a light but damp drizzle. Suddenly I spotted a sight to lift any well hunter’s heart – a gap in the green and a string across. Even better this gave way to a pair of wonky fence posts and just below them, steps and an enticing flash of blue!

The flash turned out to be a flamboyant gate, painted blue with white touches and inside I glimpsed treasures!

Going through the gate I was momentarily overcome – such an unexpected sight. A circular space, enveloped by mossy stone walls and a circlet of trees, a tiny world, separate from everything else. It started to rain hard now yet I swear I was completely dry within this strange protected and peaceful space. I sat down on a rickety bench and looked around me.

The space was tiny but jammed full of interesting things. The well itself was at ground level, the water trickling  from somewhere deep in the bank into a roughly rectangular stone clad basin. It was clean and fresh and contained a plastic dolphin – the nearest I’ll ever get to seeing a blessed fish! A cross shaped constructions held an array of porcelain mugs.

A wooden shrine above the well contained a jumble of statues and rosaries. More statues and plates, medals and lamps clustered in every available nook and cranny.

Rosaries and ribbons were festooned everywhere mainly from the gnarly old hawthorn. Angels featured large as did memorials to loved ones.

It was an extraordinary place, full of ferns and verdant lushness and hidden amongst all this was the well’s name, nicely carved on a slab of stone: Tobairín Dónail, Donal’s Little Well (and it can be spelled in a huge variety of ways!)

There is an interesting story in the Schools’ Folklore Collection as to how it got its name:

Tobar or Toibrin Domhnaill is a holy well situated three miles north west of Rathcormac in the Ballybrowney Mountain. A man by the name of Donal McCarthy was a lame man. One day he went cutting turf on the mountain. He took with him his stick and crutch. While working he got tired and laying down,he fell asleep. He dreamt that there was a well across the river at which he would be cured of his lameness.When he woke, he went on with his work. Again he felt tired and slept and again he had the same dream. On a third occasion the same thing happened. Getting up after his third sleep he determined to cross the river and find the well.
Sure enough when he came across he saw a well which he had never seen before. Making rounds at the well he was cured. The well has since been known as Tobar or Toibrin Donal. Rounds are made at the well every year on Lady Day in Autumn, August 15th. There are now three whitethorn trees and a fuchsia tree growing over the well. These trees are supposed to have been planted there by a man named John Foley who is supposed to be told to plant them in a dream. (384/385:0381)

The trees still remain, the fuchsia adding its own version of rags. The well is most probably dedicated to Our Lady and as well as paying the rounds on the 15th August,  Feast of the Assumption, Mondays and Fridays were also popular days for visitations. I can easily imagine how someone might have lain down and dreamed in this enchanting spot. It had a very soporific air.

I was reluctant to leave and the weather outside had deteriorated but I returned to the car, soaked but oddly elated.

An unexpected and enchanting find.

The location of this well can be found in the Gazetteer.