John T. McNicholas

Explorer Tom Bank of Ireland in Kiltamagh would get ‘Here Lies Money’ on its tombstone because it’s seen too many bad investments from the local farmers. It’s got that serious square shape that says ‘trust me, I’m just a building.’ It’s the kind of place where silence is golden.

Explorer Tom Savoy Cinema in Cordarragh claims there’s a secret tunnel from the back row straight to the local pub for late-night snack runs. The stucco details are so fancy they probably judge your outfit before you even reach the front door. Ideal stop for pretending you’re watching a silent film on repeat.

Explorer Tom Round Tower in Meelick is sick of being asked if it’s actually round, because yes, mate, it’s circular, stop squinting at it from a distance. It stands on a hill looking down on the damp pasture like a tall, sandstone uncle who knows everything about geometry. Bring your nan, she'll know more than me.

Explorer Tom I'll keep my big mouth quiet for the people praying at Knock. Knock Shrine grew from an evening that the people present never forgot. On 21 August 1879, Mary Byrne and other villagers said they saw figures at the church gable while the Mayo rain came down. Their accounts describe a still scene that lasted nearly two hours, with people gathering and praying; the witnesses also said the ground around the figures stayed dry. I am not going to tell you what they saw. Mayo rain rarely asks my permission, but the witnesses' account asks for careful listening. What I can tell you is that their words were taken down by a church inquiry that autumn, and a second inquiry in 1936 returned to surviving witnesses because many early papers were thought lost. The original wall attracted so many visitors that pieces were taken away as souvenirs. Today this is a living place of pilgrimage, so enter with care for the people who have come to pray. Whatever you believe, listen to how a wet evening changed a village's place in the world.

Explorer Tom Graveyard in Aghamore would post a photo of its mossy headstones with the caption 'Living my best quiet life, #ancient'. It’s got that moody, atmospheric vibe going on that makes you feel instantly profound. Have a wander and a wonder.

Explorer Tom Castle on Island Lake hates when people ask if it’s haunted; it prefers ‘mysteriously absent’. It vanished so fast the locals just shrugged and built a house instead. Bring a flask of something warm and a story to swap.

Explorer Tom House in Island is currently being judged by rabbits who think its gunloops are just fancy holes for them to hide in. They’re not wrong, actually. Get there early and have it all to yourself.

Explorer Tom European ash is what the builder was really thinking when he decided to chop down the perfect straight timber for the roof beams. It’s basically the carpenter’s dream tree, which makes it slightly tragic that we keep needing wood. Take the long way round, it deserves the effort.

Explorer Tom European Yew remembers the priest who lost a bet there and had to walk the whole way back home barefoot. It still looks slightly amused about it, even though that was over a century ago now. Ideal spot for a dramatic phone call.

Explorer Tom Knockaffertagh’s least favourite visitor is definitely anyone who suggests taking a selfie on top because it ruins the vibe. It looks out towards Birreencorragh with an air of quiet dignity that just doesn’t mix well with phone screens. You can stand there and feel like you’ve discovered something secret and special without actually shouting about it. Great spot to propose. Or at least to propose.

Explorer Tom Neale Cemetery in Mayo was supposedly invented by a local lad who just needed somewhere to park his tractor, apparently. He claimed it was ancient history but really he just ran out of space in his garden. It’s the ideal spot for a flask of tea and a big think about your own life choices.

Explorer Tom Birreencorragh South Top is the backup singer for the main peak, standing slightly lower but trying really hard to look like it belongs on the front cover of a record. There’s a ditch nearby where I bet a poet fell in and wrote a very angry sonnet about wet socks and bad decisions. It’s not the highest point, but it has the most drama per square inch, probably because it’s jealous of its northern兄