Sunshine and Showjumpers in Aran!
A happy group of exhibitors and spectators, with security provided by Ciaran Curran and Mossy Joyce, making sure everyone smiles.
In the 1870s when the Inishmore Lighthouse was being built, Mr Yorke, the engineer in charge, brought a big shire stallion from England to expedite the hauling of building stone across the island to the site. This great horse had such phenomenal strength that he earned a niche in folklore. While the phrase ‘as strong as a horse’ is universally used to denote great strength, the islanders substitute ‘comh láidir le stail Yorke’ (as strong as Yorke’s stallion).
He was not the only famous stallion on Inishmore. In 1931, Beartla Seoighe (Mossy’s grandfather) brought a Connemara pony stallion from Recess. This pony is reputed to have greatly influenced the Inishmore herd in the pre-war years.
Both stallions were recalled on Saturday when Anne Reade’s Performance Committee organised a qualifier for the Loose-Jumping Championship. 10 were forward of which retired showjumper, Frank Burke, qualified 5 for the August final. 4 fillies were also inspected for classification and all four attained Class 1 status.
When everybody was wonderfully fed and watered, Mossy Joyce, our man in Inishmore, who organised it all, included a quick tour of the island for the visitors. It was one of those special days in the sun that will be long remembered by all. Thanks to Olwen Gill, one of several dozen spectators, for the great photos. Any other island out there with ponies?
On another note, we finish this post with a few words on another island, written by WB Yeats, who was born on this day way back in 1865.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
Great report, Eamon, wish I could have been there. Niamh