Meeting the Hag

I’ve been writing songs (or, more accurately, making up songs and sometimes writing them down) for most of my life, and for me there are three types of song. There are those which arrive suddenly and completely, almost like receiving dictation, and those are the ones I trust the most. There are others which form slowly, gently, sometimes over many years, and I’ve learnt that these are the ones which resonate deeply with many who hear them. And there are others which I have to work on, and bully into shape. I’m never too sure about these, even though I know that’s the job of a writer. The Hag of Beara was in the first category, without a doubt.

How It Came About

I had decided to leave my teaching job and trust that the combination of short-term contracts, temp secretarial jobs and the varying gigs (music, storytelling, workshops) would provide enough to live on. I was still single then, and the rent on my tiny flat near Tower Bridge in London was very affordable. That summer I had been at an event in Glastonbury (the town, not the festival), in company with my friend John Matthews, who said he’d been told (by his wife Caitlin) to pass me a card advertising a writers’ retreat on the West coast of Ireland called Anam Cara. I assumed they’d been there, and I thought that a week there in early September would be a clear indication to the world that I was no longer bound by school dates. So I called and booked a place.

I flew from London City airport to Dublin, and rented a car to drive to the retreat. I hoped to break my journey by finding a suitable place to stay on the way. All went well – but there were in fact no places to stay on my route. At least, those I saw had signs up which read “No Vacancies”. Today in the era of smart phones and heaps of internet sites this wouldn’t have been a problem but this wasn’t the case back in the early 90s. Eventually I found a suitable place to make a phone call, called my hostess and asked if I could arrive a day early. No problem at all.

Anam Cara

Sue, who was the sole proprietor of Anam Cara, has since become a good friend. Originally from Salt Lake City, she decided to make Ireland her home after reshaping her life entirely, and bought the house, on the outskirts of a small town called Eyeries on the Beara peninsula. In case you’re wondering, this is on the west coast of Ireland, one peninsula south of the more famous Dingle peninsula, and I was in love with it as soon as I arrived. I could see why Sue had settled there.

The main town is Castletownberehaven, but the word “town” is possibly misleading as it’s really not very big at all and Eyeries is even smaller. But the landscape is stunning – mountains, wild seascapes and beaches, stone circles and standing stones, and atmospherically ruined buildings. It was as big a contrast as I could have wished from what surrounded my own tiny flat in St Katharine’s Dock in central London.

I was made welcome immediately. Food, cups of tea, chats that went on for hours, a big, comfortable bedroom with a view of Coulagh Bay. It turned out I was the only guest that week and quite possibly one of the very first to come and stay. Sue had met John and Caitlin Matthews (I forget how and when) and had told them of her plans for the retreat. She’d given her card to them, and they just knew it was meant for me. They hadn’t yet visited themselves. Sometimes things just fall into place.

Beara and the Hag

The schedule, such as it was, was that we would meet at mealtimes and in the evening, and the rest of the time was for me and my writing. Of course I had to explore Beara, and Sue told me of the Hag – in Irish, the Cailleach Bhéarra. It’s a rock formation near Kilcatherine, overlooking the bay. There are various stories associated with the rock, one being that it is the petrified remains of the goddess of the land, forever looking out to sea and waiting for her lover, Manannan Mac Lír (the sea god). Other versions say it is her chair, where she sits and waits. Some say it’s her face. Why was she turned to stone? One story suggests it was her punishment from St Catherine for throwing her hymn book across the church, or indeed for stealing her prayer book.

The nearby ruined church of Kilcatherine is in fact dedicated to St Caithinghearn. The ruins date from the 11^th or 12^th century and I can’t find any information about how long the church remained open, but it is a wonderfully peaceful place to visit. There is a graveyard nearby.

All I can find about Caithinghearn is that she may have been a goddess, associated with cats, and a carved head with an elongated neck on the ruined church may or may not be connected to her. At what point she was beatified isn’t clear. I’m a medievalist and I like to credit sources for information, but so far I haven’t come across anything that definitive! However, the figure of the Cailleach, the Hag, is also associated with other places such as the Scottish Highlands, and has associations with fertility, with corn, and with winter.

Bumpy Roads and Bridges

I didn’t know much of this when I went to visit. There’s a circular route which is shown on maps as the Beara Way, but when I was there it was called the Ring of Beara, possibly as a way to relate it to the more famous Ring of Kerry. Unless and until some brave people do some serious re-building of the road it will remain less famous than its Kerry cousin. It is a beautiful route, but terrifying when you drive it the first, second or third time, because it is a narrow and somewhat bumpy road, with blind 90 degree bends, hump-backed bridges and surprising gradients.

At one point, when you have been through an assortment of these, you find the road takes another 90 degree bend to the right just as you catch a glimpse of the Dingle mountains across the water. Best to be a passenger! But on that first visit, I stopped at the Hag. It’s a short walk from the road to the rock. I stood there, with my hand on the rock, somewhat appalled by previous visitors who had left offerings on the rock including candle wax. And as I stood there, this song came to me.

It was clear, distinct and complete, and it stayed with me until I could get to a notebook and write it down.

They built their circles of standing stones, sighs the Hag of Beara
They built their careful turf-roofed homes, sighs the Hag of Beara
All you see now are empty shells, which once were places they loved well
The wind blows where they used to dwell, among the folds of Beara.

And you stand there looking out to sea, cries the Hag of Beara
You see the land but can you see me, cries the Hag of Beara
You place a coin upon my stone, then leave me here to watch alone
The sea birds and the white tipped foam that laps the shores of Beara.

Excerpt of lyrics from “Hag of Beara” by Anne Lister

After driving the rest of the route I returned to Anam Cara and took out my guitar. There it was. I went and sang it to Sue. She immediately said I should sing it to her neighbours, who were due round that evening. I sang it to them, and among them was an elderly woman, who came up to me afterwards.

“I’ve lived on Beara all of my life,” she said, “and that rock has never said a thing to me.” She took a breath. “But if she had, that’s exactly what she would have said.” I felt I’d passed a test.

Hag of Beara by Anne Lister

What Happened Next …

I went back to Anam Cara several times. The next time I went, I went with the intention of writing songs for an album. I had some books of Irish mythology and folk tales with me, and discovered that one of the landing points for the swans in the tale of the Children of Lír was indeed on the peninsula. The new songs came in through the window and landed in my heart and were quite the easiest I’ve ever written. The subsequent album, Singing on the Wind, has songs inspired by those Irish mythical stories as well as the land of Beara itself, and it was a total dream to put together. Sue tells me that when she re-visits the Hag, the wind is still carrying my melody.

The album *Singing on the Wind* was released 2021 and is available on bandcamp. All songs written, arranged and produced by Anne Lister.

After returning to Wales and getting married I haven’t had the chance to go back to Beara to write, and Sue has now taken the decision, some thirty years on, to retire, so I can’t recommend Anam Cara to you now. I can, however, whole-heartedly recommend West Cork and Kerry to you if you’re visiting Ireland. The nearest airport is Cork, and there’s plenty of excellent accommodation available. The last time I went back I stopped to refuel the car in a tiny village. “Ah, you’re home again, then!” said the owner of the garage. I have no Irish in my family history or my DNA, but Beara is definitely one of my spiritual homes.

A Tribute to Anam Cara
by Anne Lister

This house is full of three-fold music
The music of language
The music of laughter
The music of wind and water

This house is full of three-fold joy
The joy of friendship
The joy of the kitchen
The joy of creativity

This house is full of three-fold peace
The peace of deep sleep
The peace of deep comfort
The peace of deep warmth.

The nine-fold blessing of music, joy and peace be on all who live and stay here, on the rocky path of artistry.