BSW3 23. Early days of the festival

Speaker: Seumus GildeaFrom the Bluestack Way Part 3 playlist. Nestled between two glens on the north westerly edge of the Bluestacks at the convergence of two rivers, Glenties is the largest population centre in the parish of Inishkeel. Surrounded by mountains and hills on three sides that open along the Owenea valley to the Atlantic ocean to the west at Ardara, Glenties is noticeable for its lush tree-covered valleys in stark contrast with the Atlantic seaboard mountain habitats of blanket bogs and moorland on its approach road. The eastern half of Glenties is situated at the Donegal Gaeltacht which is one of the largest native Irish speaking areas within Ireland.  Descending the hills, you'll come to your first proper road since Tymeen. Cross this road and continue straight on over a metal bridge that crosses the Owenea river, the waterway you'll be meandering to Ardara with tomorrow. Once you get to the R253 main road, you'll be taking a left into Glenties.  Those planning to spend more time in Glenties should look for St. Connell's museum which provides both history of the area and tourist information. Look out for the walk to Owenbhan waterfall above Meenahalla, a sight to behold when in full spate. The contours of Liam McCormack's famous Catholic church built in 1974 reflects the mountainside above it.  Going Home (Doherty’s shack, 1909)  I’m going back to Glenties when the harvest fields are brown, And the Autumn sunset lingers on my little Irish town, When the gossamer is shining where the moorland blossoms blow I’ll take the road across the hills I tramped so long ago- ‘Tis far I am beyond the seas, but yearning voices call, “Will you not come back to Glenties, and your wave-washed Donegal?”  I’ve seen the hopes of childhood stifled by the hand of time I’ve seen the smile of innocence become the frown of crime, I’ve seen the wrong rise high and strong, I’ve seen the fair betrayed Until the faltering heart fell low, the brave became afraid- But still the cry comes out to me, the homely voices call, From the Glen among the highlands of my ancient Donegal.  Sure, I think I see them often, when the night is on the town, The Braes of old Strasala, and the homes of Carrigdoun- There’s a light in Jimmy Lynch’s house, a shadow on the blind, I often watched the shadow, for ’t was Mary in behind, And often in the darkness,‘t is myself that sees it all, For I cannot help but dreaming of the folk in Donegal.  So I’ll hie me back to Glenties when the harvest comes again, And the kine are in the pasture and the berries in the lane, Then they’ll give me such a handshake that my heart will leap with joy, When a father and a mother welcome back their wayward boy. So I’m going back to Glenties when the autumn showers fall, And the harvest home is cheery in my dear old Donegal.  Patrick MacGill  Our audio piece has local Seumas Gildea tells us about the early McGill festivals he remembers.