I tend to avoid going into the city, but a few weeks ago, I had to leave my car in a garage in Ballybane. With a few hours to kill, I decided to take a walk down to Merlin Park Woods.
What an unexpected pleasure!
Thinking it might be a small, circumscribed city park, I was unprepared for the size and wildness of it. There are about 340 acres (including the hospital grounds) which are comprised of roughly half woodlands and half meadows, so you can really immerse yourself in nature here, and spend a few hours exploring.
While beaches smells briny and tangy, the air in a woods is leafy and loamy, a rich verdant smell that fills you with a sense of well-being. Small sounds blend harmoniously in the air - birdsong, insects chittering, leaves rustling and the occasional low creaking as branches sway and rub against each other. The Japanese have a word for it: Shinrin-yoku, which means, "taking in the forest atmosphere" or "forest-bathing". To be able to do it in the middle of a bustling city is quite wonderful.
There is a main pathway through the woods with numerous small trails leading off on either side. These trails meander with delightful abandon, curving around larger trees or veering off down the side of a slope. They divide regularly, so you find yourself looking back wistfully for a trail of breadcrumbs. I paused and turned around every time I came to a junction, looking for distinctive markers. Left at the fallen tree, I muttered to myself, then straight through at the bridge, then right at the clearing.
The designers and marketers of GPS and satnav apps would have us believe that relying on our senses and memories and attention to detail are outdated skills. But I like being lost. I like standing at the junction of pathways and being puzzled because I don’t remember coming this way before and I thought this was the way out and clearly it isn’t, so what now? Merlin Park Woods is not large enough to get perilously lost in, and so the feeling is pleasurable. At worst I know I can retrace my steps, but I can also give in to the adventurous spirit that urges me to continue on a little further into the unknown.
Image Source: Noel Barbour (and banner image of squirrel)
I know the feeling will only last for a few visits, then the paths will start to become familiar. I see a clear demonstration of this as I scramble after Caroline Stanley, a few weeks later. Caroline, a Friend of Merlin Woods, kindly agreed to give me a full tour. The woods are obviously a second home to her, as she navigates the paths with confidence, darting left and right, pointing out areas of interest along the way. She casually picks up a scrap of hazelnut shell and hands it to me. It is cleanly halved. “That’s been opened by a squirrel, they split the shell like that. Birds tend to make a little hole in it.” I point out a tiny, delicate mushroom, and feel inordinately chuffed when she crouches down, full of interest, to take a photo of it.
She relates the history of the place as we stroll. Merlin Park House was built by Charles Blake in the early nineteenth century. The great Georgian house passed through various ownerships until it was inherited by Capt Wyndham W Waithman. He married a local girl, Eileen O’Driscoll, known as Dricca, and they spent many contented years here, full of love for each other, the house and the woods. Sadly, in 1945, Merlin Park house was demolished to make way for a TB sanitorium. The captain and Mrs Wraithman moved to Murrough House, on the shores of the bay, but the story doesn't quite end there, as we’ll see shortly.
There is also a three-story medieval tower house at the entrance the woods. Merlin Castle was built for Turlough O’Connor – Turlough the Great – one of the last High Kings of Ireland and it’s in terrific shape for a building that’s over five hundred years old. There is a Sheela na Gig on a decorated window on the second floor. Unfortunately, the castle is currently closed off, though that didn’t stop one enterprising photographer.
Caroline regularly gives tours, to a wide variety of groups from around the world. I laughed when I saw the facebook comment regarding one such group, called the Road Scholars. Someone gently questioned the name, suggesting that she’d meant to write Rhode's Scholars (which is what I was thinking too!). Nope, it’s definitely, and appealingly, the Road Scholars.
Her knowledge extends from historical background to the natural biodiversity of the area. Merlin Park Woodland contains a range of habitats including native oak-ash-hazel woodland, mixed broadleaved woodland, conifer woodland, limestone pavement, wet grassland, scrub and a stream. Limestone pavement is recognised in the European Union Habitats Directive as a priority habitat of particular nature conservation significance.
Image source: Caroline Stanley.
“When people want me to give a tour,” Caroline says, “I always warn that it’ll be warts and all.” Warts in this case being the rubbish that is quite unmissable. Some small jumbled heaps, many scattered plastic bottles and snack wrappers. “We pick it up, but there’s always more,” says Caroline. “There are no bins in the woods, there’s no regular maintenance or cleaning done here by the council at all.”
After much meandering, we come across the ruins of a house and Caroline relates the tale of Dricca’s last years. “After her husband died, Mrs Wraithman asked the CEO of the old Western Health Board if she could return to live on the estate, and he agreed. She lived out her remaining years here, in a small cottage, tending her garden.” I look around, imagining the scene. The cottage is in ruins but remnants of paths and plants can be seen.
“We were thinking of creating a memorial garden here, but…” Caroline breaks off, glancing over my shoulder at an elderly man who is wandering along the edge of the woods, looking about himself in a distracted manner. “Is he lost?” she mused. We walked over and she called out a casual greeting. He greeted us in return and said he was just having a walk around, trying to pinpoint the area of the new proposed building.
This was the other reason I had asked specifically for a guided tour. While the northerly stretch of Merlin Park is comprised of woodlands, the south is characterised by meadowlands – a heavenly stretch of green acres that separates the hospital grounds from the Dublin road, a rather lovely wild vista to greet those approaching Galway city by bus. This area is classified (under European designation) as Annex 1 lowland hay-meadow with Orchid Rich Species, which means it is a priority habitat for butterflies, bumblebees and bats. Many of the woodland birds feed on the plants and insects here. This is a type of habitat that has declined rapidly in Ireland with very few sites in existence.
Unfortunately, this site too is under threat.
Two years ago, the Friends of Merlin Woods were alarmed to hear that Galway Hospice were planning to build their new centre on an seven-acre stretch of the meadows. The Friends started a petition, protesting the proposed development. If you scroll right down to the end and work backwards, you can follow the painful steps that led to the present situation – where public land that was originally zoned as Recreational and Amenity was rezoned, and planning permission granted. You can click on the articles and read comments from the likes of the Mayor of Galway (saying that he didn't know what all the fuss was about over a "couple of hundred acres of forest park") and the chief executive of Galway Hospice saying that "not one tree would be touched."
Standing in the meadow I can see the blue planning marks that have been painted on some of the tree trunks. I watch a shield bug bustling along the branch of one tree as I listen to Caroline patiently describe to the man the boundaries of the proposed building, and hear them share their disappointment and dismay.
Image source: Caroline Stanley.
We walk back through the meadows as Caroline describes the diversity of wildlife that inhabits this area – orchids, dragonflies, moths, bees, wildflowers, beetles and birds. She is keen to stress to me that they are not opposed to the building of the hospice, merely the building of it on this site. Their dispute is not with the hospice but with the HSE, which she said could have provided an alternative plan at a lower environmental cost. This appears totally self-evident to me, but I understand why she is anxious to be clear. If it was a fast-food place, or a casino that was being built here, the public would be up in arms. But the idea of a hospice stirs emotions and people feel guilty for opposing it, or they feel that the loss of nature is a necessary sacrifice for a worthy cause.
Except that the sacrifice is not necessary, it is a deliberate choice. Caroline points out that there are eighty-four viable acres within the hospital grounds, where they could build unopposed. But they insist on building here. And of course, an added danger of any type of new building being allowed is that it paves the way, pun intended, for further development. Galway Hospice will have to raise €20 million for the building. What if they don’t manage to raise the full amount? What if they start and can’t finish? What if they decide to pull out and sell the land to someone else?
The defence you keep coming across in articles is that it’s only a ‘small’ space. It’s only a small proportion of the overall Merlin Park. But that is exactly the point made in the masterful book by Padraic Fogarty, of the Irish Wildlife Trust. The clue is right there in the title, Whittled Away. This is how we are losing our landscape – a small piece here, a small piece there. We are being left with slivers and scraps, where it is impossible to feel the beauty of wild isolation, to glean wonder and awe, to feel enriched and free. In small, miserly patches of green you are left thinking, “Nature, is this it? Big deal”.
Meanwhile, mental health issues in Ireland are finally getting the attention they need, and research into ‘green exercise’ is revealing, time and time again, the unmatchable clinical value of exposure to wild nature.
Richard Louv’s book Last Child in the Woods (appropriate title!) is overflowing with examples:
Researchers in England and Sweden have found that joggers who exercise in a natural green setting with trees, foliage and landscape views feel more restored, and less anxious, angry, and depressed than people who burn the same amount of calories in gyms or other built settings…In Norway and Sweden, studies of preschool children show specific gains from playing in natural settings. The studies compared preschool children who played every day on typically flat playgrounds to children who played for the same amount of time among the trees, rocks and uneven ground of natural play areas. Over a year’s time, the children who played in natural areas tested better for motor fitness, especially in balance and agility.
Galway Hospice have a motto: someday, someone you know might need our services. Ironically, that’s what I imagine the wild areas located within cities saying to anyone who is a parent. I imagine the trees and birds and green acres whispering to them: someday, someone you know might need us. To be able to walk (run, play) for hours in an area of unspoiled natural beauty is a luxury many urbanites can only dream of. It is a lofty goal that cities around the world are trying desperately to accomplish. It is one of the main reasons that Galway won the European Green Leaf award in 2017.
Image source: Izabela Guzik.
Caroline and I wind up our tour at the Community Garden.
It’s one of those perfect sunny, crisp autumn days and we sit outside with cups of tea, saying hello to locals walking through. The garden has various plots located within willow borders. These fascinated me, the live willows bent and interwoven to form neat, decorative borders. But other parts of the garden are left wild and overgrown.
“That’s deliberate,” Caroline tells me. “We want people to be comfortable with ‘messiness’. Gardens that are pristine and perfect usually get that way with the help of chemicals.” She knows whereof she speaks. Caroline used to work in a garden centre and she shares an interesting tidbit. “We would unpack these huge cardboard boxes, and you’d be taking out all the different sprays and bottles and plant-foods, and they’d all be different brands, you know, like it was lots of different small companies. But the outsides of the boxes? They were all stamped Monsanto.” We share wry looks. This was the topic of one of my first blogs – this increasing toxification of our gardens – so I feel I’ve met a kindred spirit.
We are awaiting the return of the wall-builders. This is a group that have spent the morning learning how to repair and build traditional stone walls, under the tutelage of Fergus Packman. This is only one of many projects that are regularly organised here. Others include coppicing classes and yoga in the woods as well as art and cultural events. The events attract a wide variety of participants, from landscape gardeners to nature-lovers to groups of boisterous children.
We chat easily, the conversation ranging freely among topics like composting, agriculture, music, wildlife conservation and theatre, as well as returning to the Save the Meadows campaign. One of the most striking things about Caroline is that, although she is passionate about campaigning for protection of the Meadows, there is no element of fanaticism or self-righteousness or ranting. If anything, she personifies down-to-earth. I’d noticed this earlier when I asked about the ‘rough element’, having seen the remains of a drinking session, beer cans and bottles. She was unperturbed, saying that she had encountered such groups occasionally. “I wouldn't be in favour of outlawing it. It’s just youngsters, and it’s their woods too.” She grins amiably. "Though we do prefer the ones that clean up after themselves."
Her reasonable nature highlights one of the most poignant aspect of the campaign – that the Meadows case is eminently rational. There are other locations on which to build, while this is an area of rich diversity and public benefit. Why build right on top of it? The councillors' decision defies comprehension.
Although it is believed that the name of Merlin Park derives from the Gaelic for sea pool - muirlinn - it reminded me of a book I’d read over and over as a teenager. The Once and Future King, by TH White is the story of King Arthur and consists of four books. The first, The Sword in the Stone , describes Arthur’s education by the magician, Merlyn. An education I coveted, as it involved being transformed into various animals so that Arthur could experience the world from their point of view.
After my morning at Merlin Park, I dug out the book, and came across this, the paragraph where Arthur (called Wart as a boy) pulls the sword from the stone. In TH White’s 1939 classic, the sword doesn’t yield immediately, and Arthur, who is desperate to retrieve it, not for himself but for his brother Kay, makes a number of attempts, crying out for help in the end.
“Oh Merlyn,” cried the Wart, “help me to get this weapon.”
There was a kind of rushing noise, and a long chord played along with it. All round the churchyard there were hundreds of old friends. They rose over the church wall all together, like the Punch and Judy ghosts of remembered days, and there were badgers and nightingales and vulgar crows and hares and wild geese and falcons and fishes and dogs and dainty unicorns and solitary wasps and corkindrills and hedgehogs and griffins and the thousand other animals he had met. They loomed round the church wall, the lovers and helpers of the Wart, and they all spoke solemnly in turn. Some of them had come from the banners in the church, where they were painted in heraldry, some from the waters and the sky and the fields about - but all, down to the smallest shrew mouse, had come to help on account of love. Wart felt his power grow.
Various animals address him, reminding him of the skills and wisdom acquired while he inhabited their bodies. A wild goose goes last:
A white-front said, “Now, Wart, if you were once able to fly the great North Sea, surely you can co-ordinate a few little wing-muscles here and there? Fold your powers together, with the spirit of your mind, and it will come out like butter. Come along, Homo sapiens, for all we humble friends of yours are waiting here to cheer.”
The Wart walked up to the great sword for the third time. He put out his right hand softly and drew it out as gently as from a scabbard.
Whether wandering through the woods, sitting in the community garden or striding across the meadow, Merlin Park Woods provides a great feast for the senses and one comes away feeling wild and free. The last book in TH White’s quartet is called The Candle in the Wind, a title which may well describe the precarious state of Nature in these modern times. As I think back to the woods, to the smell of the air, the dapples of sunlight on the woodland floor, the illuminated spider webs, the birdsong, I fancy that I can hear the rallying cry of nature, urging us to open our eyes to what we have, before we allow it to be lost.
Come along Homo sapiens…