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The history of West Cork's lake monsters

January 31st, 2025 7:00 AM

The history of West Cork's lake monsters Image

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WEST Cork has its own stories about lake monsters that may rival those of even Loch Ness! Ours come from every loch, lake and river of the land, as MARYMcCARTHY has discovered.

The Big Story is a digital, subscriber-only series by The Southern Star. Each part will bring subscribers closer to the stories that matter in West Cork. Browse previous Big Stories here.

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‘From right across the country, stories from the early Christian tradition in Ireland talk about the lake monster or ollphéist

This is best translated as ‘the great worm,’ explained Castlehaven man Conor Ó Buachalla.

‘Every effort is being made in the towns of the west, to reclaim this heritage and bring the lore to the next generation. We have lots of local stories about lake monsters right here in West Cork, but probably the most famous ones come from Donegal about St Patrick and Lough Derg,’ he said.

According to Conor, who runs local adventure firm Gormú, St Patrick is reported to have killed the ollphéist, spilling its blood into the loch.

‘And the loch then took on a dearg [red] colour. Hence how this lake got its name in Irish as Loch Dearg,’ Conor added.

‘It is also said that St Finbarr battled another ollphéist on the River Lee.’

‘According to the story, the ollphéist had made its lair in the waters of the River Lee, wreaking havoc on the surrounding lands and instilling fear in the local population. The monster was said to be enormous and powerful, with the ability to disrupt the natural flow of the river and destroy anything in its path.’

St Finbarr, known for his piety and courage, arrived at the River Lee during his missionary journeys.

Upon witnessing the devastation caused by the ollphéist, he decided to confront the creature.

Using his faith and the power of prayer, St Finbarr is said to have vanquished the monster, either driving it from the river, or slaying it outright.

Some versions of the story describe him trapping the creature beneath the waters, ensuring it would never return to harm the people again.

After defeating the ollphéist, St Finbarr continued his journey up the River Lee, eventually establishing his monastery at what is now the site of Gougane Barra, a place of great spiritual significance in Co Cork.

This act symbolised his triumph – not only over the physical dangers of the region – but also over pagan forces, reinforcing his role as a spiritual protector and founder of Christian worship in Cork.

The battle between St Finbarr and the ollphéist is often seen as an allegory for the triumph of Christianity over paganism, with the saint’s victory marking the taming of its wild, untamed nature and its integration into the Christian worldview.

The River Lee became central to the identity of Cork, both geographically and spiritually, and St Finbarr is remembered as the patron saint of the city and diocese.

Corran Lake, Leap - Loch an Cairn

During the time of Fionn Mac Cumhaill, there was a huge story-school tradition.

Back then at Corran Lake near Leap, Fionn Mac Cumhaill would have had a winter camp there.

His ploughmen used to plough the fields around the loch, according to Conor.

And terror was there because an ollphéist inhabited the loch.

A hero called the Buachaill Mór [big boy] wanted to join the Fianna.

This giant used to come to Leap and the locals were afraid of him, because of his enormous size.

And he was given the impossible task of battling with the ollphéist at Corran Lake or Loch an Cairn.

After killing the ollphéist and being victorious, it is said that as he bent down and washed his hands in the loch, he was so big that he had one leg in the loch and the other one straddled the stuacín, or little hill, that was close by!

Loch Cluthar, Union Hall

In the records of the early 1200s, a historical figure known as the chieftain, Íomhair Ó Donnabháin, who was the legendary chieftain from Limerick, came to this area at Loch Cluthair near Union Hall, said Conor.

According to the Duchas folklore collection at www.duchas.ie, the clan was being terrorised by an ollphéist.

Íomhair Ó Donnabháin called a great feast and invited warriors from all over Munster to the party.

There were great festivities, and the warriors were full of bravado, thanks to bellies full of drink.

That night, he questioned who would rid him of this fierce ollphéist in the lough.

Two Burke brothers from Tipperary agreed to do battle in the hollow, surrounded by the hills.

The night before, the women were at the castle, and they thought that the ollphéist would be eating the Burke brothers.

All the locals gathered.

They cut a big stake out of a tree.

And tied a chain to it.

A spear was attached to the other side of the chain.

And at the edge of the loch, the stake was hammered into the ground.

When the ollphéist came out to attack them, they hurdled the barbed spear into the mouth of the ollphéist.

One brother then jumped on the ollphéist, who tried to get away, but the barbed spear was attached to the stake, so he couldn’t retreat into the loch.

The other brother then jumped on top of his head with a sword and started to stab the ollphéist, killing him.

It was always said locally that Íomhair O Donnabháin rewarded the Burke brothers with land and that’s how the Burke name came to be in this area.

Loch a’ Bhúistéalaigh (anglicised to Lough Abisdealy) near Skibbereen

‘In 1914, a most interesting account was given by Irish novelist Edith Somerville about Loch a’ Bhúistéalaigh,’ according to Conor.

‘This holds significance about the mighty ollphéist in the lake close to Skibbereen, located in the Lissard estate on the Castletownsend road, by the grotto on the way to Tragumna.’

Conor said that the story goes that a local party were heading to church.

They came across the lake and observed a snake, as they described it.

They said it was a long, black snake.

It was flat and had a long neck.

They were doubtful of their own sightings, and how long they gazed at it, despite having had a clear view of this mysterious creature looping in and out of the water.

They were anxious to proceed to church.

As they left the ollphéist, it was still swimming in the lake.

‘What gives this tale some credence is that it was documented that it appeared to be about 35ft long,’ he said.

‘Lots of other locals claim to have seen it, and some speculate that its name is the Búistéalaigh. So maybe that’s our Nessie!’

 

Loch an Taribh, Dunmnway

In the 1960s, it was said that at the Loch an Taribh, a most interesting ollphéist was seen by a Mr WJ Wood, who was fly fishing on the 16-acre lake.

 

Lore of the Countryside in The West

‘Every year at the Leap Scarecrow Festival on A Scare at Samhain, I hear stories about people in the last decade, telling me that they saw what can only be described as an ollphéist,’ Conor said.

‘There is a rub of truth in all stories. They come from somewhere,’ noted Donna Washington, who spoke at the Cape Clear Storytelling Festival two years ago. ‘They create a sense of wonder.’

‘There are things we don’t know about and things we simply don’t understand,’ Conor added.

‘In days gone by, people took for real the plausible explanations about the ollphéist that were certainly there in the lakes and rivers of West Cork. In Scotland, we hear of the undulating looping of lake monsters,’ he said.

‘Many speculated that perhaps they were a remnant of a type of fish called the sturgeon. Historically, it is recorded that they were 20ft long and weighed up to a tonne. But today, they are effectively extinct in Ireland. The only scientific basis seems to be that the lake monsters were a sturgeon remnant population,’ he added.

Conor mentioned other theories of the ollphéist, including that they were part of the pagan religion.

The first mention of snakes and St Patrick was in the 1700s, who died in or around 432AD to 450AD.

The original story about St Patrick banishing the snakes perhaps comes from our ollphéist story, which was about a snake-like creature.

We must remember stories change over time.

Perhaps it was not a snake at all, because we never had snakes in Ireland, according to the historical record.

‘It was never really about snakes or about ollphéist, but rather about Lough Derg and St Patrick,’ he said.

‘The ollphéist was a way of capturing intrigue. Within each of us, we have heard about monsters. And around the world, there is a similar mythology from Central Africa about the monster in the lake.’

Stories carry symbolic language, said Conor. And the lake monsters instil fear of the place that’s innate within us.

‘Monsters will eat you, so it was probably a good way to tell your children in a way that would be remembered that the lake is a dangerous place. And to be treated with respect. It was a good way of warning people of danger through stories of danger. It was a way to pass on messages. It was part of how wisdom was passed on and a way of saying that lakes were to be feared,’ Conor added.

Ollphéist depicted by actress, Éabha Mc Caffrey (Photo: Conor O Buachalla)

 

‘Since the dawn of humanity, we have sat around the fire and told stories. It is where we hang on every word. It is how we play on the lore from generation to generation and understand the power of storytelling. Take the lovely place of a grandchild sitting on the knee of their grandparent – ó ghlúin go glúinand stories being told across three generations.’

Old stories come down in the lore. There is a renewed interest in stories from the rise in local historical groups in the last couple of decades. We are reconnecting with our stories because they are important for good sense, Conor believes.

‘The oral teacher in Irish society has nearly gone. For thousands of years, they were part of the tradition of Ireland, when they passed on intelligence in stories, which they told in each other’s houses. This was particularly true before the modern world and, certainly, before the advent of electricity and TV,’ he said.

‘But there has been a change – and life is different today. We have a window to put our arms around some of these stories before they are lost forever. The lore that’s part of who we are and our origins.’

‘We tell stories every day in conversation. It takes time to sit down and tell a story. Not only does this capture insights, but there is a child within us all that evokes a sense of wonder.’ Our imagination allows us to see it in our own minds. And we might see it differently to five other people, the same story might go in a different way in their heads.’

Conor believes that we cannot underestimate our desire for a story and the power of the storyteller.

And the semblance of truth in a scéal like the ollphéist here in West Cork, is something some of us here still talk about.

 

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