Shanvallay

Explorer Tom Curraghmore is feuding with the next village over who stole its idea for a fancy garden gate design in 1860. It was built for Geoffrey Martyn, who probably just wanted somewhere to hide from his relatives. Go on a walk around it, it likes company.

Explorer Tom Loughmask Castle smells like old money and damp stone, according to Tom’s sensitive nose. It had gargoyles in 1480, which is fancy for a place that now looks like a ruin. Stick around for the light changing, it's a show.

Explorer Tom Loughmask Castle has a secret talent for looking incredibly dramatic in bad weather, which it uses as an excuse not to move. It’s got that quiet confidence of a place that knows it’s going to outlast everyone who built it. The moss is doing its best impression of a velvet curtain, adding to the overall theatrical effect. Give it a pat on the way past, it's had a long life.

Explorer Tom Loughmask House has a ghost that’s too lazy to haunt the place, preferring to nap in the sunbeams instead. It was built by a land agent who thought he was fancy but really just liked the view of the lake. Bring a coin for luck, or not.

Explorer Tom Runnet Hill is currently in a feud with the rain because it keeps getting soaked. The hill wants to stay dry and sunny, but the sky just won’t listen to its complaints. It’s a bit grumpy about the whole situation, so give it space and a towel. Stop the car, it's worth the hazard lights.

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 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 The Quiet Man Museum lets me step into a cottage from a film and pretend I could last a scene opposite Maureen O'Hara. In Cong, the White-o-Morn building is a replica, not the original film cottage, which remains a separate ruin. Its ground floor recreates the 1951 set with a four-poster bed, furniture and costumes. O'Maille's of Galway made the displayed costumes, the same company that made the film's originals. Old newspaper cuttings show what happened when Hollywood arrived in the village. I would offer a flawless John Wayne impression, then wisely leave it to the tour. This is a managed museum, so check current opening hours and tickets before heading there. Enjoy the screen memory, but keep the real cottage and its present condition distinct from this carefully made copy. The distinction makes both stories more interesting.

Explorer Tom Quiet Man Statue is giving me the silent treatment, which is ironic considering the name. He looks like he’s waiting for someone to tell him he can stop posing now. I bet he’s been here so long he’s got a permanent squint from the wind. You’d think he’d have said something by now, but no, just stone silence. Whisper a secret at it, it's kept worse.

Explorer Tom European Yew has been hiding a scandal where it accidentally poisoned a local farmer in 1890 and never told anyone. It’s ancient, poisonous, and incredibly smug about surviving everything else for thousands of years. Ideal stop for a big stretch and a bigger yawn.

Explorer Tom Stone Circle in Glebe (kilmaine By.) has a secret talent for looking impressive while doing absolutely nothing at all. It sits on a rise and judges your parking skills from afar. Stop the car, it's worth the hazard lights.

Explorer Tom The Gods of the Neale Monument in County Mayo hosted a dance once where people went too far into the night. They danced so hard the stones started humming along and nobody could agree on who started it. Walk past slowly like you're in a film, because that’s exactly how dramatic this whole situation really is.