Trespassing Ireland
The truth about Right to Roam, what it entails, and what it means for those visiting the Irish territory
My love and interest in castles really peaked when I first decided to go to Germany a few years ago. I spent months labeling them on my maps, planning itineraries, and reading the extensive histories. And don’t get me wrong, there are TONS of castles in Germany. Driving from one castle to another, you might see two or three other castles or ruins on the way. But for every castle we visited, there was a parking lot, a line, entrance fees. Many required you to take a tour. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but it was just like going to see a heritage site in the US. I think the thing that really put me off was the pageantry. If you’ve ever gone to see a thing called “Medieval Times”, you know what I’m talking about. It’s a dinner and show where knights joust and you eat whole turkey legs. Kids love it; me, not so much. There was one such castle, Burg Thurant, that felt that way. They really played up the dungeon, the stockade out front, the armory room with swords and full knight regalia. But it felt inauthentic and ruined the vibe. After Germany, I thought my castle itch had been scratched.
“…my obsession with castles once again burned like a lit torch at a witch trial.”
Years later I found myself planning a trip to Ireland and quickly learned that the castle culture in Ireland is on a whole other level. This teeny, tiny island boasts over 3,000 abandoned castles, not including priories, Abbies, monastic sites, and other miscellaneous ruins. The craziest part? Almost all of them are abandoned. I mean there are definitely some still that require a fee, such as the Rock of Cashel or Blarney Castle, but these are considered particularly famous sites. For the most part, most of these ruins are scattered across the countryside in various degrees of degradation, used as makeshift cow pastures. This also meant that I’d have basically free reign to wander and explore to my hearts content. And my obsession with castles once again burned like a lit torch at a witch trial.
The first abandoned site we visited in Ireland was the Athassel Priory in Tipperary County. Although it was once spanned four acres and supported a small town of 2,000 occupants, known to be the largest abbey in all of Ireland, it remains relatively unknown. I didn’t know what I was looking for or what to expect as I sped my little Fiat down single lane country roads, damn near wrecking in multiple potholes and pulling over frequently for passing tractors. I was way out in God-knows-where when I turned down a tiny residential road and saw it for the first time. The ruins were extensive, a few hundred yeards from the street, but the pasture was enclosed by a tall rock wall. I drove up and down several times looking for a parking place or entrance but found nothing. Finally I had to pull over and ask a local. It was she who told me to park off the road, hop over the fence, and wade through the empty field. Without the vote of confidence from the local woman, I probably would’ve driven off. It definitely felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there.
“It definitely felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there.”
The next place we saw was Hore Abbey, a little Cisterian abbey in a field just below the Rock of Cashel. There is a residential road and a walking path from the road to the abbey, but it is clearly flanked with a huge sign that says “Private Property, No Trespassing”, which indicates to the American in me that this means me specifically. But, again, I did my due diligence and everywhere I looked it said that the abbey was available to be toured. So, instead of parking in the restaurant parking at the end of the street and walking on the paved walk like a confident adult, I instead drove out of the neighborhood into another neighborhood and parked off a busy road. I walked through someone’s personal easement (I’m so very sorry if you’re reading this), climbed over a wall under the shade of a thicket, and stealthily ran through the huge grass field to a retaining wall, attempting to blend in, in case it really was off limits. I must’ve looked like Gru from the Minions tip toeing around in the broad daylight. It was a James Bond parody for sure. In retrospect, I must’ve looked absolutely ridiculous. Anyway, I toured around and no one showed up to kick me out but the awe and wonder was ruined by the feeling, again, that I shouldn’t be there.
I attributed this gnawing feeling to the fact that I am an American. In America, you only have a right to your own property or to federal property that you’ve paid a free to be on. Private property laws in America specifically include the right to privacy and to exclude others from your land. These laws, combined with our love of the second amendment, makes trespassing a particularly dangerous feat, regardless of the trespasser’s intentions. So I couldn’t help but feel like, at any moment, some angry Irish was going to walk out of his house brandishing a a firearm. Totally ridiculous, I know, but you can’t help but feel that way when you’ve lived in a society like ours for three decades.
“I couldn’t help but feel like…some angry Irish was going to walk out of his house brandishing a a firearm.”
Where I got caught up was all of the websites that assured me that these sites were open to the public, regardless of the signage. On one hand, these sites are a thousand years old, and have been abandoned for the better part of five hundred years. Of course there’s no easy way to get to them as the countryside and neighboring towns have sprung up, moving on with their lives amongst the ruins, integrating the two worlds, something we most certainly do not do in America. But on the other hand, if people were really allowed to be there, why isn’t there a clear place to enter? What’s with all the menacing signage? Why does it feel so much like illegally trespassing? Surely, if tourists were supposed to be there, there’d be one small iota or shred of welcoming, right?
RIGHT.
That is absolutely correct. And now I’m going to tell you the why, laid out plainly by the laws as they are set today, June 12, 2023. While the Republic of Ireland is incorporated in the United Kingdom, this does not mean it shares the same laws as England. Case in point: The Countryside and Rights of Way Act of 2000. This Act allows the general public access to certain public and private lands, lakes and rivers for recreation such as walking, exercise, bird watching etc. More specifically, downland, moorland, heathland, and coastland. This specifically omits forestlands that are privately owned, but this is conjecture for another day. What this means is that many ruins in England can be explored freely as long as they are found on this lot of land. As for Ireland, THE FORMER DOES NOT EXIST. In fact, because these ruins are scattered throughout the countryside, most all of them have to be accessed through private land, of which you have ZERO right to be on. Maybe the owners look the other way. Perhaps they don’t mind if people access through their private property. But do not assume that that is the case. No matter how many times you read that it’s acceptable to be somewhere, do not take someone’s flippant word for it. Many will tell you that the trespassing signs are to prevent trespassers from suing the owners and thereby relinquishing them of fault in case of injury or death, and while this may be true, those signs still explicitly forbid trespassing.
“…many ruins in England can be explored freely as long as they are found on this lot of land. As for Ireland, THE FORMER DOES NOT EXIST.”
I know it seems like a lot of work but if you want to go somewhere, know the laws. If you need to trespass on someone’s land, ask first. In order for tourists to continue to have the ability to access these monuments, we need to understand the effect that it takes on the local community and neighboring land owners. When tourists become a menace to the local community is the moment we lose access to precious historical sites, like these abbeys and castles. If something feels wrong, it probably is.
Moral of the story: Get proper permission, ask around, but don’t intentionally break the law out of laziness and ignorance. Don’t be a Class A Asshole like me.