OPINION (AN COLÚN): A weekend's pedalling inspired by a great Birr man

The Bulfin Heritage Cycle Rally is organised every year by a small band of high nelly and heritage enthusiasts in the small, attractive town of Durrow in Laois. Rosalind and myself have been on a few of the rallies over the years and we always love them. This year was no exception.
Twenty of us met at beautiful Castle Durrow on Saturday morning August the 28th where we began our day eating delicious scones and drinking coffee in one of the elegant, sensitively decorated rooms of the castle. Organiser in chief Hugh Sheppard asked me if I would read the narrator's role in a small re-enactment. I obliged. The Rathdowney poet Michael Creagh pretended to be William Bulfin during the re-enactment, an impersonation which he revisited a number of times during the day reading extracts from Bulfin's marvellous book “Rambles in Eirinn”. One of these passages was a emotive piece about what kind of a place Ireland should be and who our citizens should be. Bulfin said Irish citizenry shouldn't be limited to certain groups but should be all-inclusive, admitting every creed and background. Ireland should be built, he said, on the foundations of the greatest ideals and should never be limited by the all too familiar myopia of racism, greed and sectarianism. These great ideals are constantly being attacked or overlooked and it's very important that we regularly refamiliarise ourselves with them.
An enormous amount of effort goes into the organising of the Bulfin Cycle, including the production of a Souvenir Passport, which tells participants about the places they are going to visit during the day. The first page of this year's Souvenir Passport welcomed us all to the 6th Bulfin Heritage Rally. “One of the greatest boasts,” it said, “of our Rally, is that of unravelling the centuries old enigma of time travel! Long has the question of its possibility been mulled over, and long is the list of failed contraptions, designed for quantum leaping! 'So it time trvel possible?' you ask. Well, we have been doing it, every August, since 2015, on a time-machine that was invented by an Irishman, in 1892! The apparatus in question is of course Ernest Bowden's High Nelly! Upon this machine, attired in vintage clothes, we plot our course through time; awakening long forgotten histories, exploring our rich cultural heritage, and bringing them both to life through talks, re-enactments, and pageants.”
William Bulfin is a person we should all be very proud of here in Birr. He grew up in nearby Derrinlough House and emigrated to Argentina in 1884 at the age of 20. He did very well in Argentina, eventually becoming Editor of the Southern Cross in Buenos Aires. He greatly missed Ireland and for a long time dreamed of returning to his native land and setting off on a cycle tour. This he eventually did in 1902, pedalling 3,000 miles the length and breadth of the country throughout the summer, talking to many people along the way, visiting places of interest, and writing his impressions of much of what he saw and experienced. “Rambles in Eirinn” is his acclaimed book about this 1902 cycling tour. It was immediately popular at the time, running to four imprints, and retains a special place in many people's hearts today. Bulfin is a nationalist, but of the healthy and sane variety, whose prose is filled with an enthusiasm and love for Ireland. For him Ireland is not an economy or a reductive philosophy but the setting for the possible fulfilment of the very best of ideals.
As we sipped our coffee a local historian told us about Castle Durrow. It was built by the Flower family, Viscounts Ashbrook, who were given ownership of the town in the early 1700s, and subsequently granted permits for the fine Georgian and Victorian houses which line the streets.
After this little talk we mounted our bikes and pedalled several miles to Grantstown Lake, which is popular with fishermen and is surrounded by a lovely forest. Here we were reminded of that characteristic which is all too common in human nature - greed. Lord Castletown, we were told, has a reputation for being a benevolent landlord. Not so, say some, who point out that Castletown evicted 14 families from his estate in the 1880s so they wouldn't get his land following the Land Acts. Look after yourself first and to hell with everybody else. This unfortunately, tragically, is the refrain we are constantly greeted with when reading history.
After Grantstown we cycled several miles to the Ballygeehan GAA monument. As we cycled along charming backroads, on a warm sunny day, I felt blissfully happy. I was cycling with a friendly group of vintage-dressed people on old-fashioned bikes through attractive, undulating countryside. It felt like a dream; or one of those 'thin' moments in life when the barrier between this world and the next becomes porous and we are treated to glimpses of an existence of bliss.
The monument at Ballygeehan is on the side of a little-used backroad. It was erected to mark the only time when Laois won a Senior All Ireland Hurling Final. John Finlay was present to tell us the story. John is the grandson of the captain (also John Finlay) of the Ballygeehan (Laois) 1915 team. His talk was fascinating, about a subject which I knew nothing about. He'd brought a replica of a 1915 hurl. Longer and differently shaped than today's hurl, its design meant the game was dominated by ground hurling, therefore quite a different spectacle to today's version. On the night before the final there was security placed in the Ballygeehan players' hotel in Dublin, to ensure they stayed in their rooms and weren't tempted by the city's bright lights.
We cycled back to Durrow via the De Vesci estate in Abbeyleix. The De Vesci estate was bought recently for €20 million by John Collison (who is originally from Dromineer). It's firmly closed to the public and is patrolled by security guards who turn you back. There are many CCTV cameras and quite a few signs telling you to keep out and not trespass. On the edge of the estate is a plaque to three Franciscan Friars who were hung, drawn and quartered here in 1588.
When we got back to Durrow, after a nine hour day, we were served beef stews and coffee or tea by a number of wonderful, friendly local ladies.
Driving home, there was a lovely afterglow in my mind as I reflected on what had been a very pleasurable outing. The only snag is I will have to wait a whole year until it comes around again.