Phil Brennan

Posted on May 15, 2021

Posted in Phils Blog |

The long walk home

If one has courage, nothing can dim the light which shines within… Since a price will be exacted from us for everything we do or leave undone, we should pluck up the courage to win, to win back our finer and kinder and healthier selves. There is no failure as long as you learn from your experience, continue to work, and continue to press on for success.

(Maya Angelou)

I like nothing more than to go for a gentle jog along a coastal path near where I live in Tramore. It helps clear the head and sets me up for the day ahead. One particular run I do leads me on a loop around the back strand, down the beach and back to the prom for a well-earned cool down in the sea. Just me and the universe, as the early morning sun casts its crimson glow across the bay. It’s as liberating as it gets! Once or twice old niggles surface on the soft sand and I turn the bend four miles out to face the long walk home. The elements often conspire to make it that bit tougher; rain, hailstones, a strong breeze coming right at you… you’ve got to dig deep. You’ve no choice!

The long walk home is your defining hour. It can make you or break you. I sometimes lose it for a moment, release a few choice words into the heavens and question myself for being out there in the first place. Just as well there’s no one around. It’s the frustration you feel more than the pain. Running to standstill – this was never in the plan. The way ahead seems blurred and in the haze I struggle. I find it good just to slow my cadence right down, stop by the water’s edge, breathe, listen. The ebb and flow reminds me that this too will pass. Waves roll into shore with unwavering ease to calm the stirrings of the restless mind. The universe always speaks when you need it most. Stillness draws you back to the source from where you find the strength to go again. You know you’re not alone. Your way back starts with one single step.

We cannot change the cards we’re dealt in life but we can choose how we play them. It is not how we start; it’s how we adapt when things don’t go to plan. Painful episodes leave a scar that only those closest will ever see. Hidden wounds become part of who you are. Somehow, you must find that spark even in the darkest of places. You cannot give up. I remember at one time in my life when things were particularly scary, staring out the window in search of a sign to help me move beyond my deepest fears. I could see a small bird on a ledge not too far from my humble abode surveying its surrounds before it took flight. There we were, before the world was yet to waken, just me and this bird.

I began to visualise the bird leaving the sanctuary of its lofty perch, its fragile wings yielding to the vagaries of the wind as it soared through the skies. At that moment, it felt so real. A once captive creature was free again to re-claim its place in the cosmos. The reverie lingered and lulled me back to sleep just for a while. When I awoke, the bird was still there. It had stayed exactly where it was. I needed to get closer. As if aware of my curiosity from afar, the bird nodded gracefully before descending at pace into the darkened space below. Minutes later, it reappeared, and rose steadily to embrace the freedom beyond the narrowed walls it had left behind. Light seeped through shaded skies as dawn broke. I too would rise.

A small, delicate creature had unearthed something in me I never knew existed. Its mystery lingered and eased the simmering pain of a broken man. Unspoken, unannounced… a simple truth had set me free. The peace we seek along the way doesn’t come from superiority and might. It flows from the deepest, most vulnerable part of our being, that unmistakable core within that makes us unique. A meaningful life does not come from being rich, being popular, being highly educated, being perfect. It comes from staying true to you especially when you’re tested most and staying humble to the end. Listen to your gut, your inner compass. It always points you where you need to be. Your deepest pain can reveal your higher purpose. Every fall is the beginning of your flight.

Gravitate to the light and the shadows will soon pass behind. Good people are priceless. You know the type. Those who will never hide away, who lift you up when you fall, who remind you of the song you’ve still got to sing. Others can be quick to ridicule and to judge. They have no idea of the price you have paid to be where you are now. Make time for those who are weak and are broken along the way. Make time for them. They too have their story. Walk the path with them rather than look on from afar. Leave your imprint on the sands of time. One tiny act of kindness ripples out in quiet abandon into the universe to reveal the source that makes it all possible in the first place. God is love and those who trust in love will endure to the last.

Musical airs drift into the evening skies in mystical homage to what has gone before. Chords once lost have now been found as I learn to laugh and smile all over again. Life feels good. This time everything does not have to rhyme. There is beauty in the flawed note beyond the reach of those who cannot hear. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore. A voice whispers from afar. You are a child of the universe. No less than the seas and the stars you have a right to be here. You have come this far. Now make your way home!

Starting today, learn more, laugh more and do what you truly love to do. Do not be denied your destiny. For what lies behind you and what lies in front of you matters little when compared to what lies in you.

(Robin Sharma)

Phil and Elaine are excited to be teaming up with Sinead Gaynor and Deirdre Lawlor of ‘ReNew You Retreats’ to roll out ‘The wellbeing way along the Waterford coastline’ from this autumn and to be rolling out our ‘St Declan’s Camino’ from August this year. September is already fully booked. You assemble the group, leave the rest to us. Check out www.waterfordcamino.com or email us directly at info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on April 13, 2021

Posted in Phils Blog |

The day time stood still

Matara, Sri Lanka, December 26th, 2004, 9am.

Charles Hewawasam looked out through the front door of the church. One large wave was rising just beyond the shoreline and moving swiftly towards the island. The people had their backs to the onslaught oblivious to what was coming their way. In all his years looking out on the Indian Ocean, this Sri Lankan priest had never seen anything like it. The sound was deafening as roaring torrents crashed in around them. Terror gripped his flock as they gasped in disbelief. They rushed out of pews with arms flailing, voices screaming, hands grabbing children, legs stumbling, tripping… torrents gushing through the double doors, bodies flung against pews and pillars.

Charles directed the people to take the steps to the balcony beyond the sacristy to the rear of the church. The higher level offered their best hope of survival. Some followed; others fled the building, fearing for their lives, hoping to outrun the relentless surge. Men in the 80s, children as young as four, all in a race for their lives. Of the 28 who fled, none survived! The raging sea waters churned and swallowed everything in their path. A car ploughed through the double door and pinballed against the stone pillars inside. Those who stayed behind and made it to the balcony… they were the lucky ones!

Charles knew there was more to be done. Piercing screams alerted him to people in trouble outside. He waded through the waters trying desperately to reach as many as he could. The current was strong. One by one, he carried them inside. Frenzied hands and petrified faces struggled to withstand the pull as they drifted downstream. There, amid the chaos, he noticed his mother. He could see her face as the waters swirled with ominous intent. Time was not on his side. He waded through the torrent once more and managed to catch her hand. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. The receding tide dragged them both towards the sea. They clung to each other and to a lamp post close by. It saved them…

The Peace Choir visited Matara 2 years later and sang for the same people who were in the church that morning. Charles welcomed us with open arms. Our harmonies merged with the hushed tones of the waves as they rolled gently into shore. Pain and courage oozed through the smiles on faces we had never seen before. We listened to their stories. Many recalled the aftermath of the tsunami. Christians, Buddhists, Muslims came together to bury their dead, to feed each other, just to mind their neighbour. Their tragedy was their stepping stone to a sacred space they might not otherwise have known. Their common humanity is what carried them. Their solidarity for one another found expression in kindness. Nothing else mattered!

Something about my time in Sri Lanka has stayed with me ever since. The people have a spirit that no wave could reach. There was a bravery in how they picked up the pieces and started all over again. Their grace is of a kind that invites you in. When you give a gift to a child, it is not opened for days. The gesture alone is what pleases. The simplest of things take on a whole new meaning; a cricket match by the shoreline, a walk along a sandy beach as the sun sets, a visit to a Buddhist shrine that is precious to them, laughter and song… you being with them has a value beyond rupees. When the child speaks, it pays to listen:

The day was clear
The sun shone bright
Upon my island home
When all at once wailing echoed from her shores.
And it came whirling, swirling, churning and sweeping
A monstrous twenty-foot wave
With a booming voice and mighty hurt
Destroying everything in its way.
Father and mother grieving
For their loving children lost.
Little children searching everywhere,
Searching for! their parents lost.
The waves shattered Sri Lanka
Yet humanity it could not break.
Compassion, love and kindness reached out to all,
And gave hope in every way.
Oh Tsunami you ! hit us
Expecting us to fall.
But we will rise stronger,
Much better than before.

(Excerpts from ‘Tsunami you hit my island home’ by Ivan Corea, Sri Lanka)

How we emerge from our darkest hour defines us as people. Life is not always an easy free-wheel downhill. Tough days bring us to the edge. We unearth what we need to carry us the rest of the way. Time of tragedy can become a time of hope. The Chinese have a term to capture this. The ‘Kintsugi’, or that quake out at sea, can bring pain and possibility in equal measure. The broken pieces from the tremors assume their past through the trauma, and, land on safe ground paradoxically more resilient and more beautiful than before the shock. We grow through our hard times. As we wade through the darkness, we discover the true strength of the brilliant light within that can never, ever, be dimmed.

Time has stood still for us all over the past year. We’ve felt it in ways we could never have prepared ourselves for. Maybe as we re-emerge from the other side of this pandemic, it is not a time to look back and try to have everything we once had. We all have a choice to make here; to retreat or to advance, to fall into old habits or to allow our deepest instinct guide us the rest of the way. You have to trust your gut. It aligns your life with where you need to be. Invest your energies wisely. It pays to to have a purpose that is yours and yours alone. Seize it lest it pass you by!

You would rather find purpose than a job or career… purpose is an essential element of you. It is the reason you are on the planet at this particular time in history. Your very existence is wrapped up in the things you are here to fulfill. Whatever path you choose, remember the struggles along the way are only meant to shape you for your purpose.

(Chadwick Bosman [1976-2020], Actor, Howard University Address to the class of 2018)

This piece is dedicated to Agnes and all our friends in Weligama, Sri Lanka.

Phil and Elaine are planning for later this year to roll out their signature Camino experiences. We are taking group bookings from mid-July in the hope that the vaccines will have worked their magic by then. You assemble the group, leave the rest to us. September is fully booked. Check out our range of Camino offerings on www.waterfordcamino.com and if you have any specific inquiries email Phil and Elaine directly at info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on March 12, 2021

Posted in Phils Blog |

There comes a time…

The last goodbye is never easy. There’s a deep emptiness that no words can fill. You stand and stare and feel the aching loss. The finality of it all does not seem fair. In the numbness, you search for answers that lie out there, somewhere, beyond your reach. The rawest pain of all is when you lose someone close to you, someone you’ve come to know and love, someone whose presence has made your world all the more safe and secure. You wait for the fog to lift. You know you need to pick up the pieces, you’re just not sure how. You know there comes a time…

Grief brings us face to face with our fragile hold on life. We languish for a while on the edge of the precipice with nowhere to turn. The normal certainties are no more. We momentarily forget and expect to find him there where he always was. It’s just not the same anymore. Our tried and trusted compass points seem obsolete in shades of light we have not seen before. We owe it to those around us to brace the elements and make our way home. The road ahead seems strange but somehow the universe reminds us that we are not alone.

Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said.
A child or a book or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made.
Or a garden planted. Something your hand touches some way so your soul has
somewhere to go when you die and when people look at the tree or that flower
you planted, you’re there.
(Ray Bradbury)

There comes a time… to allow your memories breathe again. What you lived and loved, you never lose. It becomes part of who you are. Narrow down the lens of time and retrieve the unscripted events that matter most. The funniest memories often reveal so much about the person. Relive the humour, the love, the magic of it all. It matters even more now. Remember the tough days too, the decisions that needed to be made, the courage, the passion, the unwavering faith ye had in each other. It is natural to want to hold on. There is meaning in the memory. We grieve for someone who didn’t tell us how to live. He lived and let us watch him do it. It’s the simplest of things that define our legacy. Their spirit lives on in what they leave behind.

There comes a time… to start living all over again. It is not easy. We lash a life force that supposedly cares and question how it could allow all this to happen in the first place. The answers we seek may never come. We wade through the torrent not quite sure if it’s even worth making it to the other side. Think of those who need you. They rely on you for strength in ways you may never know. You are their connection with the one you both love. They long to see your smile back. Take that one step into the unknown even if you’re not quite sure where it’s leading to. Day by day, you will find your way. What is of lasting value lies within. You will find a courage you never knew you had.

When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when
our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there
is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains
of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of nowhere and transform dark
yesterdays into bright tomorrows.
(Martin Luther King)

There comes a time… to open the blinds again and allow the light in. Our instinct can be to batten down the hatches and hide away for a while. The world outside will not have changed but your life has in ways you will feel with each passing day. So, go easy at first. Watch for the rays seeping out between the clouds, see the daisies and the buttercups return, observe the trees fill up again with leaves, listen to the laughter of a child and know that there is hope for us and for the world. There’s a life force at play in the universe that will not let us down. Be still on occasion and observe. As wave follows wave into shore, you sense the energy that makes each movement possible. Miniscule and all as each life may appear, we are one fragile note in a wider symphony that gives it meaning. The song is over but somehow the melody lingers on.

There comes a time… to choose the companions you want alongside you for the way ahead. Love is really the only thing we can possess, keep with us, and take with us. Family and friends will want to be there for you as you have been for them. Your true friends will find ways of reaching you. Don’t be afraid to let them in. Cook those dinners again, plan your day trips, take a stroll along the water’s edge. Never feel that you are alone. People understand more than you know. Some will have felt that same pain before. Where there is empathy, even in the most microscopic of exchanges that the world may never see, there is healing. Having the right people by your side is everything. It can see you through the storm.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how
you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is
really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t
be the same person who walked in. That’s what the storm is all about.
(Haruki Murakami)

The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will rise again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to. There is a light in each of us that we’ve got a hold of for an instant before we hand on to future generations. The spark lives on in the child that follows. Your light will shine again. Do your best. Let life do the rest.

In memory of Elaine’s Dad, George Harvey, who died on February 22nd, 2021.

Phil Brennan

Posted on February 11, 2021

Posted in Phils Blog |

Stepping out into new frontiers

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time…

It’s almost a year now since we bid farewell to our last international group. We led a family of American visitors on our ‘Greenway to the Falls’ experience. They were due to stay in Lismore Castle for 7 days but had to fly home 3 days early as the pandemic kicked in both sides of the Atlantic. The sun shone down on us for the day we spent together. We cycled the Waterford Greenway from Durrow into Dungarvan, made a detour to sample the panoramic delights of the Copper Coast before lapping up the Irish stew in Kiersey’s, Kilmacthomas. Our walk through Crough Woods up to the Mahon Falls rounded off a perfect day. Little did we all know when we parted 12 months ago what we were facing into.

The uncertainties of the last year were not easy to navigate. In ways, all we could do was anchor in at the isle awhile and wait. Our bookings literally vanished overnight. It has led us into the twilight zone where once reliable coordinates have dissolved into the unknown. Tried and trusted formulas have had to yield to the uncontrollables of this pandemic. Like everyone else, we’ve had to dig deep. We kept ourselves busy; doing some additional research on all our trails, connecting with tour operators from Oslo to Milan to Boston, exploring new trails when we were free to move beyond our 5km, and hosting some amazing Irish groups at the latter end of last summer. We’ve had time to think, to anticipate, to explore… to push out the boundaries of our thought processes. No one said it would be easy. It hasn’t been. We will hoist those sails again… we all will!

Sometimes, when it feels like the elements are conspiring against us, we find that ‘spark’ to guide us on your way. Here on the edge, our antennae hone in on what matters. We put a value on people we know we can rely on when the chips are down, we gravitate to kindness in its rawest most vulnerable form, we learn to laugh again, we feel the pain of those who are broken… we drop the trappings and strip life down to only the essentials. We have to trust our deepest instincts when the going gets tough.

The great outdoors have a way of aligning our lives with the power of the universe. It pays to step off the beaten track every now and then. During the summer, we walked along the path of St. Declan from Cashel to Ardmore. By the end of it, we knew we were alive. Our feet were sore, our limbs ached, but we made it. We walked by the river’s edge as the Suir rolled seawards from Cahir, we took the original pathway of Declan over the Knockmealdowns, we passed castles and forts and tombs along the way… our cadence changed to the rhythm of what was happening around us. You don’t even see it happening. But you know! The world you return to may not have changed, but, somehow you have. There is no turning back!

…Through the unknown, remembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
In that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
(T.S. Eliot)

Random experiences don’t just always happen by chance. The universe has a way of leading you to where you need to be. We have not created the St. Declan’s Way Camino. It has been there for centuries waiting to be discovered. This is more than a journey of 112km but a journey through time of well over 1,500 years. St. Declan’s Way actually predates the Camino de Santiago by over 400 years. Right back in the 5th Century, St. Declan walked this very path on his return trips to Cashel from Ardmore to meet with St. Patrick. Declan was in Ireland spreading the Christian story two decades before Patrick. Here on this ancient ‘Rian Bó Padraigh’ you come to know that you are part of something far greater than yourself. You sense that you are not alone!

We have met with people along the way and have been guided by them; from hoteliers to walking groups to historians to the monks in Mount Melleray. Our week long Camino includes overnights in Cahir House Hotel, Mount Melleray Abbey, The Round Tower Hotel in Ardmore and the Tower Hotel Waterford. Coach transfers, packed lunches, evening dinners, even stamped Camino passports and all part of the experience.

We are thrilled to announce that Br Phil Ryan will become part of our team into the future. We’ve been working closely with Phil now for years in the Edmund Rice Chapel. He has been missed since he went to Bray but we’ve kept a strong connection with him over the past 2 years. Phil hails from Tipperary so there’s no one better we can think of to lead us out from Cashel across pathways he knows so well. Iain Tweedale in Wales will also become a key part of our team going forward. Iain has become a great friend through lockdown helping us to produce our monthly Virtual Taizé Vigils. Some of our Caminos will take in a little of St. Declan’s Way, then onto St. Kevin’s Way in Glendalough before doing a little of St. David’s Way along the West Wales coastline.

There have been so many people working below the radar for years now helping to open up the old St. Declan’s Way as a pilgrim experience. The St. Declan’s Way Committee and Knockmealdown Active have been the driving force behind making this ancient pilgrim path accessible again after all these years. By this summer, it is hoped that the entire route from Ardmore to Cashel will be a fully way marked and signposted trail. It is due to be inspected and approved by Sports Ireland as a fully validated pilgrim way over the coming months. All the new signage and map boards are being manufactured at the moment. The timing could not be better. It is just what people will need when we come out the other side of this pandemic. Serendipity at its best!

We carry more inside than the world can see. We are creatures that worry, that beat ourselves up, that struggle to pick up the pieces. Now, more than ever, hold onto your belief in who you are. Keep doing what it takes just to hang in there until the storm passes. Do not let go of your dreams for the future. They are more precious now than ever before. Little by little, we will all get there.

My grandmother once gave me a tip:
In difficult times, you move forward in small steps.
Do what you have to do, but little by little.
Don’t think about the future or what may happen tomorrow.
Wash the dishes. Remove the dust. Write a letter. Make a soup.
You see? You are advancing step by step.
Take a step and stop. Rest a little. Praise yourself.
Take another step. Then another.
You won’t notice, but your steps will grow more and more.
And the time will come when you can think about the future without crying.
(Elena Mikhalkova)

***

Dr. Phil Brennan and his wife Elaine look forward to rolling out St. Declan’s Way as their signature Camino experience from August 2021. For further information, check out our St. Declan’s Way Camino on www.waterfordcamino.com or contact Phil and Elaine directly on info@waterfordcamino.com.

Phil Brennan

Posted on January 8, 2021

Posted in Phils Blog |

Before you know kindness…

“Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
Like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
All this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever…”

Life can be a strange ole puzzle to crack at times. Just when we’re on the cusp of making sense of it all, events can conspire to leave us clasping for clarity all over again. No man’s land can be a desolate place. We’re caught between conflicting forces struggling to make our way in a world that has lost its familiarity. It’s hard to make it through unscathed. There will be times when we’re really tested. It is then we can feel most alone. Barren places often bring us back to where we belong. As the mist lifts, we come face to face with the truth about ourselves. All that once was is seen with new eyes. Trust your path. You have arrived at this point for a reason.

There is a spark in each of us that tends to kick in when the pressure is on. We see it every day in the stoic courage of ordinary people dealing with crushing blows in life who somehow find the strength to hang in there when they’d have every reason to give up. These people show us the way. Just look at the heroism of people who have put their own lives at risk to protect and care for others over the past year. Doctors, nurses, labourers, teachers, shop assistants, neighbours… you name it, good has been unleashed into the world just when we needed it most. Human kindness is the life force that has carried us through. It is this we need to hold on to as we come out the other side.

Our destinies are not mapped out for us in advance. It is now we shape the course of what is yet to come. Listen to your inner voice and map your goals accordingly. No matter how tough it has been, dare to believe again as if your life depended on it. The way ahead will be shaped by your attitude. Channel your energies into discovering what makes your life worth living. If there’s something in you that you have always wanted to do, make it happen. Do not wait. Resist doubt at all costs for despair is a luxury none of us can afford. The purpose of life is a life of purpose. When you passionately believe in something that doesn’t exist, create it. It starts with one single step.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
you must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive…

A light rises through the shadows to guide us on our way. We cannot do it on our own. It pays to stay grounded and humble. Often the voice of the silent one needs to be listened to most. The raw, broken story of people who have endured real pain in life lies beyond the lens of social media. Real prophets speak their truth quietly. They have a dignity that lingers long after their last note is struck. You see it in their smile, in their tenderness, in their stoic courage. Above all you see it in their humour. They find something so strong inside!

I am slowly realising that we cannot come to know the people on the margins from a safe distance. Walking alongside the homeless has led me to a new place. Here I have discovered the indivisible union between me and those singing before me. We are one. Maybe it’s that I know only too well what it feels like to be broken, to lose everything, to slip up, to fall short… only when we come to know the homeless as friends, when we share the most precious gift of all, our time, with them, do we come to see in them the reflection of our truest selves.

Everyone has a story to tell. It pays to listen, to make time, to be there… to open the pores of our humanity to the needs of others. There are many out there with burdens to carry far greater than you can ever imagine. Beneath the surface lies a decency that the eye may not always see. As the world walks by, slow you cadence a little and you will hear. We are all shaped by what has happened to us in life. Our flawed note completes our song rather than takes from it.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
you must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth…

Make time for people along the way but be discerning. Your time is precious. Gravitate to those who do not act for show. The world is full of pretense. What is real is all that matters. The rest is froth. There are certain things that we should never sell out on. Dignity doesn’t just mean being stiff and composed. It means a belief in oneself, that one is worthy of the best. Dignity means that what I have to say is important, and I will say it when it’s important for me to say it. Dignity really means that I deserve the best treatment I can receive. And that I have the responsibility to give the best treatment I can to other people.

Ultimately, you and you alone can shape the course of what is to come. Believe in yourself even when storm clouds gather and the way is not so clear. Strive to be the best version of you, complete with all your strengths and limitations. For always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. The peace we seek along the way doesn’t come from superiority and might. It flows from the deepest, most vulnerable part of our being, that unmistakable core within that makes us unique. So do not be denied your rightful place in the universe.

When you show vulnerability, you give others permission to do the same. Vulnerability is not weakness; it is our most accurate measurement of courage. This truth once discovered changes everything. Your hour of uncertainty creates an opening for the light to shine through. The storm clouds part and the landscape, though somewhat tinged by pain, glows with a hue you may have never noticed before. No bird soars too high if she soars with her own wings, no matter how broken they may be.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.”
(Naomi Shihab Nye)

Phil and Elaine are happy to wait until this uncertainty passes before we roll out our signature Irish Camino Experience in the year ahead. We’ll rise again when it is safe to do so. Check out our range of Camino offerings on www.waterfordcamino.com and if you have any specific inquiries email Phil and Elaine directly at info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on December 21, 2020

Posted in Phils Blog |

A light flickers… Christmas on no man’s land

Christmas time has its own magical allure. The lights, the gifts, the music, the myriad of sporting spectacles beamed live to our sitting rooms, the gatherings among family and friends, the scent of the turkey roasting in the oven, the frenzied shopping, the carnival atmosphere in town; all combine to create something wonderfully festive that eases us almost unknowingly through the dreariness of the Irish winter. This year, after the year we’ve had, it all seems very different. Now, as the year rolls to a close, a faint light makes its presence felt. In the dark, the eye begins to see.

This Christmas we’ll value those we have around us that little bit more. We’ve missed people in a way we could never have foreseen. We’ll have them home again. Human connection is everything. For a while, it felt like we were stripped of all we once lived for. Maybe we needed the nudge in the right direction. We have retrieved what is best in us. We checked in on each other while all around us human goodness carried us through the madness of it all. In this unwanted space across a once obscure land, we found ourselves. It would be a shame to let it go.

The star still shines, oft’ hidden and unnoticed, to light the way. Beneath the layers of tinsel and chimes, lies the age-old story that gives it meaning. Christmas 2020 is our time to see again what might have passed us by before. ‘Silent Night’ brings us back to where it all began. The poignant lilt of the harmonies of this age-old carol leads us to a place we may have left behind. There we find the simple truth hidden within its hallowed lines. We sense that we are not alone… that our story is part of something timeless in our midst. Our song, though flawed and broken, lingers long into the night.

Christmas 1914 on the battlefields of Messines brings us face to face with the power of this simple carol. Picture the scene. Young men and boys sunk in the blemished mud of Flemish and French trenches, ears reverberating to the terrifying sounds of shells exploding before them with a deafening defiance – scarcely imaginable to spectators from afar. Germans on one side; the French, British and Irish on the other. Between them, ‘no man’s land’ littered with the spoils of war, a sordid premonition of the fate in store for up to 13,000 soldiers a day.

Yet, amidst the chaos, hope simmered fleetingly on the horizon. The German soldiers were sent Christmas trees from home and placed them above their trenches, numbing the oppressive doom that enveloped them. A strange confluence of dark and light rose from the shadowy mire. The luminous trail extended for miles, a seamless halo from afar that transfigured the wretched landscape. The soldiers were moved. They remembered their loved ones back home.

They momentarily forgot where they were. And then the German tenor sang ‘Stille Nacht’. Soldiers from both sides fearlessly opted to leave the relative sanctuary of the trenches and embraced their ‘foe’ as their own. Stories were told, cigarettes smoked, brandy consumed, even a football match was played. Once hostile voices merged as one in common humanity.

A young British soldier, Albert Moren, near La Chapelle D’Armentieres, France, recalled: “It was a beautiful moonlit night, frost on the ground, white almost everywhere; and… there was a lot of commotion in the German trenches and then there were those lights – I don’t know what they were. And then they sang ‘Stille Nacht’ – ‘Silent Night’. I shall never forget it. It was one of the highlights of my life.” Echoes from afar whisper softly through veiled skies.

Against the bleakest of backdrops, a spark was lit and the shroud lifted. Humanity had become participants in the nativity story 1914 years on revealing the face of the infant Jesus to the world. Their song echoes in the stillness of the night. Hidden in the silhouette, their hushed murmurings can still be heard. The men of 1914 did not just remember the first Christmas; they lived out its meaning.

I was privileged to travel to Messines in December 2014 with The Island of Ireland Peace Choir to pay homage in song to the young men of the Christmas Truce on the 100th anniversary. It was deeply humbling to see the graves of two Irishmen side by side in one of the tiny cemeteries scattered across the furrowed fields. On one headstone: 24th of December 1914, Private Delaney; on the other, 29th of December 1914, Private Murphy. In between… the Christmas Truce. Something timeless spilled out onto the battlefield that silent night that must never be forgotten. Sleep in heavenly peace.

In the stillness, you will hear. As sparrows soar homeward in telepathic waves through the evening skies, you will see. Slow the pulse down and you will feel their truth rise through the shimmering light. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore. We honour them today as we did then – in song. Its soft refrain lilts through the cold air… to somewhere only they know.

“When you sing Alleluia
You must give your bread to the hungry
Clothe the naked
Shelter the stranger
By doing this not only does your does your voice sing
But also your hands are in harmony with your voice
As your deeds are in accord with your words.
May your light lead the way for others to follow.”
(St. Augustine, 3rd Century AD)

This Christmas members of the Peace Choir and friends managed to get into the Edmund Rice Chapel to record, within the current guidelines, our 10th annual ‘Christmas Truce 1914 – Carols Vigil’. This year, we felt it was more important than ever before to tell the story in song. It can be viewed on our Waterford Camino Tours facebook page anytime from 8pm on Wednesday 23rd of December, 2020.

Phil and Elaine would like to wish you all a peaceful and happy Christmas and everything you wish for in 2021. For further information, check out our website on waterfordcamino.com or email us directly at info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on November 2, 2020

Posted in Phils Blog |

This Is The Time To Be Slow

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet again
On fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.
(John O’ Donohue)

Lie low to the wall until the bitter weather passes…as light fades beyond sombre skies, we sense what is coming before it has arrived. The way ahead blurs into obscurity. Barren spaces rarely offer shelter when the weather turns. We feel alone and lost, estranged from the world we once knew, captive to the elemental fury of wind and rain as it sweeps down around us. Nothing can quite prepare you for the torment. Times of trial pushes each one of us to the edge. It takes courage just to hang on in there. Each step forward summons up reserves we never knew we had. It’s amazing what we discover about ourselves when we are tested most.

When the deluge arrives, it can appear like an ambush. Here along a mountain pass up the Comeraghs, 12 of us quickly discovered there was nowhere to hide. One minute, we were cruising along at low altitude in stunning sunshine; the next engulfed in a storm we could not escape. Remind me never to trust the weather app up the mountains. Rain, gales, hailstones can descend on you in an instant without warning. We were all soaked to the skin. The wind howled with ominous intent as we braced ourselves for the way ahead. Step by step, we trudged onwards. All we could do was check in on each other and remind ourselves of the safe refuge that awaited in the village below. We would make it…together!

Nothing beats the glow of a warm fire when you make your way back. We stopped off at Kiersey’s in Kilmacthomas for lunch. One of the group spotted a Charity Shop and within minutes everyone had dry clothes to change into. As we tucked into our toasted wrap and soup, little did we know that the Manager had collected our wet clothes, tumble dried them in her home up the road and had them neatly folded for us when it was time to go. It was a defining moment for all of us! Pure kindness of this kind is never just for show…it comes from a place we all need to find. People like Jenny lead by example. A day on Camino so often mirrors the story of our lives. In a world that can be cynical to high ideals, it pays to remain generous. You cannot beat basic human decency.

There’s a general anxiety out there that I have not seen before. You feel it in the atmosphere. It’s strange not being able to do all we once took for granted. The uncertainty it brings is affecting everyone differently. I guess collectively as a people we’re being tested now like never before, not just in the literal sense. We’re all in it together yet each one of us have our own way of coping. The spinning around us may not stop for some time. Now, more than ever, it pays to place your feet on solid ground, to process what is of real value and to let go of the rest. If we were all honest with ourselves, this is the reality check our lives needed.

Anthony de Mello tells a powerful story of the wise man, or Sannyasi, who had withdrawn from the world in his search for happiness. The Sannyasi had reached the outskirts of the village and settled down under a tree for the night when a villager came running up to him and said, ‘The stone, the stone, give me the precious stone’. ‘What stone?’, the Sannyasi replied somewhat puzzled by the strange request. The villager went on to explain. ‘Last night the Lord Shiva appeared to me in a dream and told me that if I went to the outskirts of the village at dusk, I should find a Sannyasi who would give me a precious stone that would make me rich forever’. The Sannyasi rummaged in his bag and pulled out a stone. ‘He probably meant this one’, as he handed the stone over to the villager. ‘I found it on a forest path some days ago. You can certainly have it’. The man gazed at the stone in wonder. It was a diamond, one larger than any precious stone he had seen before. He took the diamond and walked away. All night he tossed about in bed unable to sleep. Next day at the crack of dawn he woke the Sannyasi and said, ‘Give me the wealth that makes it possible for you to give this diamond away so easily’.

Maybe the world we’re in had lost its way long before Covid reached these shores. Seize on the opportunity this time presents to anticipate possibilities for yourself and for those you love that you might not otherwise have imagined. Dare to see things differently. Dare to be yourself! Now is the time to be true to you rather than drift anonymously into the slipstream of others. A reliance on social media is not good. It’s crucial to have a life beyond it. What we project of ourselves online and what we see and read of the world around us does not always correspond with the truths we know. So choose wisely how you spend your time. Find your very own way of trying to make sense of it all. Stillness is the key to navigating any storm.

A good book can elevate you to a space where you begin to see more clearly. Some people’s stories can inspire us to believe all over again. ‘My Journey: Jim Stynes’ is a book that has quite simply changed how I look at everything in my life. I loved Jim as a footballer but the imprints he leaves behind go well beyond his sporting achievements. You might remember Jim as the tall, athletic Dublin Minor Gaelic Footballer who went on to become an Aussie Rules legend. At 42, healthy, fit, President of Melbourne AFL and a married father of 2, Jim was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma and faced the battle of his life with stoic courage until his untimely passing 3 years later. He was honoured by a State Funeral in Melbourne on March 27th, 2012. Jim Stynes embodies all that is good in humanity.

Tough times help us to distil the ebb and flow of life down to what really matters. We strip it of the excess that we no longer need to sustain us on our way and start to build again on solid ground. The light breaks through darkened clouds to guide us on our way. This month, I want to leave the last word to Jim. He is the man! He inspires at the deepest of levels. Long may his star shine!

“If you get stuck, look around and there will be another way. Don’t be afraid to take a risk, take on a challenge, try something new. Improvise. Think independently!…

I had found, through my treatment over the past 18 months, that anything I was unhappy about or troubled by slowly rose to the surface. One by one, these light bulb moments would come to the front of my mind. I began to think of them as precious stones that simply needed to be gathered up and polished to help lead me to a better life. Sometimes they would force me to confront aspects of my life that I was not especially comfortable with. These were stresses that I had carried around with me for years. So I began to knock them off one at a time.

One of the most important stones was that of understanding the art of ‘being there – learning to be present, rather than being distant because your mind is on what happened earlier that day, not thinking about solutions to unrelated problems or sending a text message when someone else is talking to you…

In the city I would be too busy to stop, to look around and listen. At the beach there were times when the only noise was the birds calling, or the waves lapping at the shore. I noticed how the treetops stooped in the wind, the patterns of the tides and the clouds. There was time to think deeply, to contemplate what it all meant.

I had always believed that life was about becoming all you could be. It was about opening yourself to opportunities to learn and experience new things. In the end it’s not the years in your life that counts; it’s the life in your years.” (Jim Stynes)

Dr. Phil Brennan and his wife Elaine look forward to welcoming groups to Waterford again once this time of uncertainty has passed. Our website www.waterfordcamino.com has recently been re-modelled to reflect our unique offerings for 2021. For further information, email Phil and Elaine directly on info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on October 6, 2020

Posted in Phils Blog |

Voices on the Camino – 2020

It has been the strangest of years for all of us. We’ve steered a gentle course over the past few months opting to take the safe route until we come out the other side. Our policy has been to work with existing ‘pods’ of people rather than create groups from individual inquiries as we would have done in the past. What we lost in out on in numbers, we more than made up for in the quality of the few groups that we hosted in the latter end of the summer. This month’s blog is written by the people who have shared the path with us in 2020. They capture what our Camino is all about in ways we never could. Those who visit want something a little different. Waterford provides the perfect backdrop to make this happen.

“We did a one day gentle Camino with Phil and Elaine in July. We initially arranged this for my dad who’s nearly 70 to give him a little day out. Little did we know we were all going to absolutely love it, from my nephew who’s 15 to myself and my sisters all in our 30’s… we had such a fun day. The tour itself was so relaxed, we got to see so much even with the plans changing slightly to suit the Irish weather. It was memorable from start to finish. Aside from the beautiful scenery, Elaine and Phil made everyone seem so at ease we could all just be ourselves and enjoy every minute. We laughed all day!!” (Liz, Blanchardstown)

“The Waterford Camino was an experience I did not expect. I thought I was going away for a few days holidays with the girls but it was much more than that. I came back a more relaxed person. I would like to thank you both for an amazing 4 days. I have been on a lot of holidays over the years but these 4 days I will never forget. I will always hold on to the memories of the stunning places you brought us to and the nuggets of history really brought these places to life. The whole experience gave me an inner peace and made me appreciate family and friends. I hope to do another Camino with you both.” (Breda, Celbridge)

“In September 2020, we had the pleasure of spending a weekend away in Waterford organised by Waterford Camino Tours. It was such an amazing action-packed weekend. It was perfect in every way; we walked a number of sections of the Waterford Greenway, mountain trekked to Mahon Falls, had ice-cream on Tramore Beach, jumped in off the diving board at the Guillamene, swam with the seal in Portally Beach, walked the coastal path in Dunmore East, dinners, lunches and drinks, and finished off with lunch on a boat with the lovely Brendan from Dunmore Boat Trips where we caught lobster and released them back to the sea. While fitting so much into 2 days, there were plenty of moments of pure relaxation where we soaked up all the beauty around us. It was no trouble to Phil and Elaine to cater for gluten-free meals at all cafes and restaurants we stopped at along the way. They couldn’t do enough for us. They are a wonderful couple to be around and it was my absolute pleasure to spend the weekend with them. I am looking forward to doing the St. Declan’s Way Camino with them next Spring.” (Audrey, Dublin)

“Without question our weekend with Waterford Camino Tours was one of the most enjoyable, inspiring, fun and thought-provoking experiences in my life. 3 weeks on and I am still on a ‘high’, enjoying even more my hikes and time in nature and excite about my plans to expand my career horizons in a new, fulfilling direction. We went to Waterford as great friends and we left with an even closer bond strengthened by shared experiences, adventures, inspirational stories and anecdotes, lots of laughter and even a few (joyful) tears. I would highly recommend the Waterford Camino for anyone who wants to re-new, re-focus, re-energise, re-connect through inner connection and time in spectacular scenery and nature. Oh yes and the food and craic is mighty. This is a recipe for wellness and happiness. Get in on the secret sauce…” (Sinead Gaynor, Gaynor Training and Development Limited)

“Well what can I say about our Waterford Camino experience. From the warmest of welcomes given to our group from Phil and Elaine to our sad farewell on the Sunday evening to meet again in the future! We walked, sat, chatted, laughed and were still together so many times throughout the weekend. What better way to spend your weekend travelling the beautiful treks of Waterford surrounded by the beauty of nature and listening to such inspirational thoughts and words so appropriately gathered by Phil. We cannot forget the plentiful coffee and cake, wonderful lunches, exceptional boat trip with tapas and meeting the lovely locals of Tramore, Dunmore East and Kilmacthomas. We all need days like this and I for one am planning on making it an annual event!” (Cathy, Dublin)

“I left the busy city behind and met people I didn’t know
But this was brave for me, but I sought something different, something new
A myriad of options appealed but a beach walk invited me most
We gathered, were welcomed and set off on our way
We didn’t introduce ourselves, I liked that, we stopped at points of interest
Our host, a font of knowledge, was informative yet unassuming, passionate but with pace
Suddenly I was intrigued by those around me, we each had a story
Our voices were swept by the wind to a busy blue sky
Soon we smelt the salt, right there and then time moved from mood to moment
The sand was warm and comforting, the breeze was cool and kissed our faces
I was awake, I was aware.
We didn’t need to sing, we had music in our hearts
Our souls were now tuned by the salty touch of empowerment.
Alarms wake us, cities call us, like the tide being tugged towards the moon
I become aware of all I forgot to value. I’m glad I have, for me.”
(Pat, Waterford)

“It was an absolute pleasure doing our lovely walks and listening to your knowledge of the local history. We really enjoyed it and left us with a peace and a sense of wellbeing with the world. We saw beautiful places and we all came home refreshed and relaxed. You couldn’t have looked after us any better. I haven’t stopped talking about our Camino with you since we came back. Can’t wait for the next one.” (Angela, Leixlip)

“I have been thinking back on all the wonderful days we’ve had thus far with the Peace Choir and all the memorable places we’ve been. It has been such a great voyage. All were a Camino of sorts and the memories are a great source of comfort in these difficult times. I’ve really experienced the strength and support there is in numbers and yet how we are all so individual. The Camino we did during the summer was a very enjoyable day despite my physical limitations at that time. With the encouragement of Phil and Elaine, I was able to let go of the struggle of trying to keep up. I accepted instead where I was and it took me down a different path with another group of fabulous people. I truly had a magical day. With warmest wishes and gratitude.” (Mary, Tullow)

“Saving the best ‘til last, our final day sees us fall head over heels for the Comeragh mountains, or more specifically, our guides, husband and wife duo, Phil and Elaine of Waterford Camino Tours. We take on a gradual 4km climb, from the base of Crough Woods up to the Mahon Falls, where bleating sheep and shaded hillsides open up to an amphitheatre of age-old rock, the star of which is the cascading waterfall… closing my eyes and allowing the water to lap gently around my toes it is very much an ‘eat pray love’ moment. I feel centred, still. And this is to the core of what this wonderful couple do. In their own words “it is not about covering vast distances; it’s more taking the time to soak in the beauty and peace of all that we pass along the way.” Guided by this power couple, we then laughed our way along the old railway line which runs against the towering backdrop of the Comeragh mountains and opens up the stunning vistas across the Celtic Sea… it was very much the company that made our experience all the more enjoyable. We’ve even promised to go back to sample the plethora of walking trails Phil and Elaine offer.” (Denise Smith, Travel Writer ‘Sunday World’)

When you’ve the right companion on the journey, you’re home before you know it! We’ve never been called a “power couple” before, but, right now, we’ll take it! We all need words of encouragement from time to time. No matter how strong or how assured you may be, there will be moments in life when everything does not flow as favourably as you would like. Read the signs and be ready to adapt. It’s amazing the power of a kind word. It can lift you up and help you to appreciate what matters most. We’ve been privileged to walk our Camino with really sound people. They lead us in ways they do not even realise. For that we are truly grateful.

We have our plans in place now for 2021. We see the domestic market as key to our business over the coming year with the International market opening up again hopefully from Spring 2022. Our website www.waterfordcamino.com has recently been re-modelled to reflect our unique offerings for 2021. We are excited about the year ahead and are delighted to have many Irish groups already signed up for our signature St. Declan’s Way Camino that we will launch next Spring. For further information, email Phil and Elaine directly on info@waterfordcamino.com

Phil Brennan

Posted on August 4, 2020

Posted in Phils Blog |

St. Declan’s Way – where old meets now!

Walking in the steps of St. Declan from Cashel in Co. Tipperary to Ardmore in Co. Waterford lingers with you long after your odyssey is complete. Here on this ancient ‘Rian Bó Padraigh’ once trodden by the saints of old, we pass castles and forts, holy wells and hallowed vaults, breathtaking views and barren places – an eclectic collage of visual sensations that seep deep into the prism of the mind as we make our way. This is more than a journey of 100 kms (62 miles) but a journey through time of well over 1,500 years. Along the Camino, you unearth truths that may otherwise have passed you by. The clouds part to allow once hidden rays cast their hue across the tinged land. You feel good to be alive.

The 5 days of walking on our Camino across St. Declan’s Way gives you space to breathe, to step back a little from the world for a while and connect to source again. It is good to detox, to clear the head of all that burdens it, to find perspective. Now more than ever we all need it. It is strangely reassuring to know that whatever it is you’re going through, others before you have gone through more and persevered to the end. You sense the voyagers who trod these paths for centuries; saints, pilgrims, labourers, emigrants, rebels, visionaries… each one with a story to tell. So when it came to taking our first tentative steps from beneath the Rock of Cashel, this historic trail took on a whole new meaning. Our coordinates steered us onwards. Once you set out, it’s the company and the chats that carry you along. Each Camino is only as good as the people you share it with.

We were stunned by the breathtaking beauty of the Rock of Cashel as it towered majestically through the morning mist. It was at this very location St. Patrick conferred on St. Declan the status of Bishop of the Déisi Muman people of Waterford after one of the many occasions when they met here. What few realise is that Declan had been working with missionary zeal in the South East of Ireland long before the coming of St. Patrick in 431AD and that his epic Camino over and back to Cashel from Ardmore to meet with Patrick actually predates the iconic Camino de Santiago in Spain by over 400 years. As you leave the dimmed enchantment of this citadel of stone behind, you know you are not alone. There’s a life force at play here that does not let you down. You need to walk it to feel it!

Its stories that bring a place to life. There are so many ruins you pass along the way, it’s good to rest awhile by the remnants of old and listen to faint murmurings from a bygone time. Lady’s Abbey is one such place that draws you in. Silhouetted against the mountain backdrop of the Knockmealdowns, its shaded vaults arch in mystical homage to its medieval origins as a Carmelite Monastery. On first glance, the ruin lies lonely and neglected in the surrounding overgrowth, as if secretly surrendering to the passing of time. Here, veiled in mystery, you enter a sacred space in quiet abandon to all that has gone before.

Our eyes were drawn to the tombstone of Sarah McGuire who lies buried in the chancel of the Abbey, close to where the holy font or ‘piscina’ is located in a place of eminence by the south-facing wall. The rectangular gravestone, which is the oldest on site, bears an inscription which reads “Here lie ye remains of Sarah McGuire who departed life Feb. 1st, 1780, aged 22yrs. Pray for her”. The story, which varies slightly, tells of a woman from Spain/America/West of Ireland (depending on the version you read), who, knowing she was about to die, dreamt of where she wanted to be buried, believing that anybody buried there would go straight to heaven. When she died, her relatives found a map that she had drawn which directed them to Lady’s Abbey, a place that neither Sarah nor any of her relatives had ever seen. Soft, dulcet tones, still audible, make her presence felt as sparrows soar homewards beyond the gaze of the passer-by. We both sensed what neither of us could fully articulate. Impressions of this kind stay with you.

Perhaps the most dramatic stretch of the entire St. Declan’s Way is the trail over the Knockmealdowns that starts out from Goatenbridge in Tipperary and ends in Lismore Waterford some 26 kms (16 miles) later. With the help of our local guide from Knockmealdown Active, Mark Ryland, we opted to take the original path of St. Declan on our right across the lowest crossing point of the mountain range – Bearna Cloiche an Buidéal (Bottleneck Pass). Leaving the relative sanctuary of the trees behind, our feet sank deeper into the dense ground cover of heather – both bell and long heather – and gorse, rushes and moorland grasses. Every step matters!

This is wilderness; bleak, barren, remote yet compelling in its simplicity and in the honesty it asks of you. Here on the outer frontiers, you come face to face with the truth about yourself. No distractions. Just you and the universe! Our descent made us feel alive again. We’d conquered our Everest and felt the quiet elation in making it this far. This vantage point from above is like no other. The lens widens to reveal a pattern that can be lost in the minutiae of life below. The panorama opens up as one vast kaleidoscope of vista and colour that rolls out gracefully to the seas beyond. Our eye gravitates to the River Blackwater as it navigates its mystical course through shimmering lighten route to Youghal. There’s something reassuring about it all. There is nowhere you would rather be!

Mount Melleray Abbey, near Cappoquin, is one of the major milestones along St. Declan’s way. The monastery has been home to a community of Cistercian (or Trappist) monks for nearly 200 years. The Cistercians were founded in 1098 by Robert of Molesme, a Benedictine monk, in Burgundy, who wanted to embrace a simpler and stricter version of Benedictine life. In the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Irish men who wished to become Cistercian monks travelled to the continent. In France in 1830, following a revolution, English and Irish monks were expelled from the Abbey of Melleray, in Brittany, and they travelled to Ireland seeking a new home. The rest is history!

St. Declan’s Way leads down through the quiet surrounds of Mount Melleray. In this place, past and present merge seamlessly as one. The priests go about their daily routine unruffled by time; the lands are farmed, the cows are milked, the café reverberates to the din of the curious visitor. The school may be closed since 1974 yet you sense an energy in the calm, a resolute belief amidst the changing vagaries of an uncertain world. Those who live here rise before dawn to pray. Places of stillness are needed now more than ever. We look forward to welcoming our first visitors to the Guest Rooms in Mount Melleray on two of our six nights. In times past, a monastery became a place of rest for pilgrims on their journey. Some traditions should never be lost to modernity!

Lismore is a place that you cannot help but fall in love with as you pass through its quaint streets. It has a unique charm that makes you want to stay longer than your tiring limbs might allow. Lismore is justifiably proud of its long and distinguished history. Tracing its origins to the arrival of St Carthage in 636AD, Lismore was once a university city attended by scholars from all over Europe. The town is beautifully situated on the well wooded banks of the Blackwater. The Cathedral on the right is on the grounds of the monastic school foundations which reached the zenith of its reputation during the 8th and 9th centuries. There is nowhere quite like Lismore.

Alice O’Donoghue, from Lismore Heritage Centre, guides us down the hillside across the River Blackwater and reminds us of the mystical allure this place had for travellers through the centuries who, as they made their way to Lismore for study, no doubt landed at Youghal, the seaport of the Blackwater, and proceeded to follow a highway called the ‘Bealach Eochaille’ along the path of St. Patrick’s Cow, connecting Lismore with the interior of the country. The Castle still beats to the pulse of times past. It retains its mystique, its mesmeric charm; its lofty walls privy to stories that remain untold. The river flows serenely below as if knowingly bowing to the many who have walked its banks before.

Each day on St. Declan’s Way brings something new; a welcoming reception in Waterford City on day 1 followed by 5 days of walking over the 100 kms (62 miles) trail from Cashel to Ardmore. On Camino, it’s not the destination that matters; it’s the steps in between. An exception could be made for Ardmore. Here, by the shoreline, it feels like we have returned to source, to the very place where St. Declan built his own monastic settlement on the hill circa 416AD. Declan retired for greater seclusion to a little cell below overlooking the Bay and the ruined Church and Holy Well still lie in quiet repose to his memory. Listen carefully and whisperings from times past can still be heard. It is they who have shaped who we are; they who inspire us to leave our legacy too.

Dr. Phil Brennan and his wife Elaine look forward to rolling out St. Declan’s Way as their signature Camino experience from Spring 2021. Special thanks to Kevin O’ Donnell and Mark Ryland from Knockmealdown Active and to Br. Phil Ryan for guiding us on our way. For further information, see the link attached or contact Phil and Elaine directly on info@waterfordcamino.com Visit our website at; www.waterfordcamino.com