The McLeans of Carraroe

Aug 16, 2016
4 min read

Finally this day is here! We've been planning this trip for so long, and today our dreams will be realized.

We took three cars and set off northwest toward Galway which is over two hours away. The plan was to stop for lunch in Spiddal, the birthplace of our grandfather Bartholemew Curran. I strolled down to the church to see if by any chance I could access some records. There was one person in the church lighting a candle. Maggie, Meara, Julia, and I said a prayer and admired the beautiful church. I asked the woman if she was a parishioner and she said she belonged to the Inverin parish. Then I remembered that Bart was born in the Tully Parish in Inverin which is a little village in Spiddal. Yes, that's her parish, she told me, but all the records burned in a fire. We walked outside and I told her we were heading to Carraroe in Connemara.

"What's the family name?" she asked. "Curran? Sure, it is! That's my name, too! I married a Curran, but my grandmother was a Curran as well."

I thanked my new friend and shook her hand good-bye. And what's your first name, I asked her. "Kathleen," she said.

"Of course it is! My name's Kathleen Curran, too!" I said as I hugged her good-bye.

Within an hour, we were at the McLean property. I was alarmed to see that Mamie Keane's little house was not in sight. We pulled over and walked back to see what happened. How did we miss it? Upon closer examination, we realized that the foundation was still there behind a chicken wire fence. Not a good sign.

Fortunately, I remembered how to get up to the old house area. I knocked on the door of the closest house, but to no avail. We stepped over the high grasses and through the prickly bushes to get to the old site. All that's left of the McLean house is four outside walls with a wall in the middle creating two sections. The front section has a large fireplace on the gable end. There is one door opening and several window openings in the main front half. The thatched roof is long gone. The dirt floor is covered with stones and brush. Many saplings have sprouted up and several of those are now full grown trees. It's next to impossible to imagine a family of ten (Padraig and Mary and their eight children) living there. Nana described an upper loft area where people slept. She also spoke of bringing the animals in at night if it got too cold. Yikes. .

As we were exploring the area, a man came out of the little house and sat in his car. Greg approached him and introduced himself. Within a few minutes, we were all gathered around and being invited into his home. We made the connection with the McLeans pretty quickly: This gentleman's name is Bartley O'Donnell (born in 1930) and his grandfather is Patrick McLean. Mamie Keane is his cousin. Mamie passed away three years ago after stepping outside to empty a pot of tea. She fell and died "suddenly." It turns out that when Marty and Tom were in Ireland in '92, they met Bartley and he remembered them fondly. Dan stepped out to the car to fetch one of the pictures that I had brought to show him.

"Yes, and that's me right there. That's my wife, Mary. Those fellas were so funny. They fit in like they were born here!"

What a delightful encounter! Perhaps it was the sound of Neil's drone that alerted Bartley better than my knocking on the door. Whatever it was, we were thrilled to make acquaintance with our father's cousin! I'm so happy that of all the photos that could have made the trip with me, old Bartley was in one of the two I brought. Poor dear Mamie and Dad were in the other, standing in front of the fireplace like we are in the image I included here.

Bartley insisted on pouring us shots of whiskey with which we toasted sitting there in the same kitchen as Marty and Tom had 24 years ago. Slainte!

One story that Bartley told us was that when Patrick McLean arrived in Carraroe, no one knew where he came from. McLean is not a local name (this is exactly the reaction that I got from Kathleen Curran back in Spiddal). He also told us that the O'Donnell family lived in the house with the McLeans, in the back portion. That's something that David had heard before, but it seemed so unlikely that this tiny space could support the large McLean family, not to mention another family. Bartley's brother lived in the house on the corner (the one with the garden on the roof top), but he died and the house has been sold. I believe our only connection left in Carraroe is Bartley, though I don't know where his son or his nieces and nephews are. I'll look into this more when I get home.

From the old homestead, we made our way to the shore where the cemetery is. There we found the McLean gravesite with Mamie's name the last etched on. The headstone has been refurbished as well as the site. What a beautiful resting place! We sat on the grass and enjoyed the view. Some of us walked along the beach and met some locals. The young mom of one of the little families told Neil that her husband has done drone shooting for Game of Thrones and she also contributed to (something?). When not speaking with us (they identified us Americans immediately), they spoke in Irish as did all the young children. Delightful to hear. This part of Ireland is known best for keeping the language alive, and some people send their children out this way for lessons.