I hadn’t wanted to leave the castle. I’d have rather been curled up in the drawing room, enjoying the goodies that come with Lady Ardilaun’s Afternoon Tea. But my kids lure me out to see the terraced gardens of Ashford Castle for what they call a “short” walk along the Lough Corrib, a mysterious, misty lake in Mayo County, Ireland, that evokes all things ancient, mystical, still, and profound. I half expect a phoenix to rise from it or a fairy to dance across its jade-colored ripples.
Ashford Castle in Ireland blends old-world charm and modern updates. Contributed by Ashford Castle
When we’d arrived at the finest castle hotel in Ireland earlier in the day, it was the moat that thrilled us. But within minutes we were enamored with the whole of it. Now, aimlessly forging paths through the trees, we agree that this is a site from the past that manages to live and breathe in our time, an exquisite blend of modern amenities and ancient, etheric charm. Free of any Disney-style contrivances or pseudo-historic affectations, this lodge feels like an ancestral home — but one not worn down with time or faded with age. Indeed, rather than jarring medieval feasts with mediocre food and play-acting lords of the manor, this hotel offers modern gourmet fare and Waterford chandeliers in the George V dining room, harp music in the Dungeon Bar each night, a world-class spa and Irish concierges that bring coffee to your room with your wake up call. It pampers without pretension — as a castle should.
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Dating back to the 13th century, with immaculate, sculptured gardens, expansive grounds, and elegant, comfortable, rooms, Ashford Castle is a guilty pleasure. Enjoying the place means lingering in the public areas, taking equestrian lessons from Tom in the stables, or learning to fish for salmon under the guidance of Frank the Ghillie along the banks of the Lough Corrib. It means champagne cocktails in the Prince of Wales Bar, golf on a gorgeous 9-hole course, a clay shooting range with game targets typical of the area (ever heard of a wily woodcock?), tennis, and hikes through the countryside.
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Which brings me back to our dilemma. We’re lost in the 3,000-acre woods, with the lake no longer in sight, and our sense of direction hopelessly disoriented, when suddenly we remember we have a cell phone. Help may be at hand, but whom do we call? I rummage through my pocket and find a brochure for Captain Dan who drives the boat, docked on the river Cong, just off the castle’s moat. It’s the only number we have, so it’s worth a try. My daughter, in particular, is beginning to panic.
“Hello, Captain Dan? I wondered if you could help us — we’re lost in the woods.”
“Ha, were ye in search of the tower, then? Everybody gets lost in search of the Guinness Tower.” (I later discover he’s talking about a folly deep in the woods, which we haven’t seen on this hike at all but spot later while riding horses.)
“No, just lost,” I say.
“You can’t be fair,” he says (he means far but it sounds like fair). “What do you see?”
“Trees. Big, tall trees,” I say. And the truth is they are as tall as giants and enchanting, in a menacing way.
Then, I see it, the one thing that might explain where we are. “We’re standing on a cattle guard,” I pose, hopefully.
“Ah, just go straight a bit, turn right, and follow the road. You’ll be back to the castle in no time,” he says.
And he’s right. It isn’t long before we see turrets, then the smoky gray silhouette, and the whole of the grand fortress ahead. It’s a timeless sight, and though we’re decked out in Nikes and other 21st-century garb, I feel transported. Should we don leather jerkins and carry a bow?
Ashford Castle, a 13th-century castle turned into a 5-star luxury hotel. Contributed by Ashford Castle
The next day, still without jerkins, we take a step further back in time: we learn to fly hawks. An ancient art, falconry originated in the Far East, but was well established in Ireland at the time Ashford Castle was built in 1228. So it seems apropos to indulge in Ireland’s School of Falconry, located on the hotel’s grounds. Under the tutelage of a passionate trainer, we discover the joys of casting birds into the air like boomerangs and holding out our leather-gloved hands as the landing pad for their return. Our birds, youthful and fairly diminutive, are Harris hawks with colossal personalities. They compete with one another, soaring high in the treetops, then diving down like bomber planes, hovering just inches above the ground, before gently landing on our fists when we call them. Sometimes they seem to fall from the trees like snowflakes, soft and fluttering. Once they fight over a piece of meat hidden in my son’s glove. They captivate us as we walk through the forest and they fly behind, mimicking a hunt. It’s a joyous thing that bonds us to the landscape.
When not tromping like squires through the forest with hawks on our heels, we indulge in the tearoom, nibbling cucumber sandwiches and plump, bite-sized pastries that hang from the serving tree-like buds on a vine. Perhaps most fun for American latte drinkers is pouring strong Irish tea from exquisite china pots into demure teacups. We sip in silence, preferring to tune into the Irish accents that surround us. Though the drawing room feels old world, we enjoy the modern chic of the mostly Irish guests, many of who have come this weekend for a Dubliners society wedding. Though not on the guest list, we somehow feel included in the festivities and enjoy brief but pleasant conversations with various members of the wedding party.
Ashford Castle is a must-visit destination on Ireland. Contributed by Ashford Castle
We leave Ashford Castle reluctantly, casting backward, nostalgic glances until the last turret fades from sight. But just as we think every vestige of the castle to be gone, we see a dot in the sky that seems to trail our departing car. We grin, because it looks a lot like one of our hawks.
