I was in western Ireland having lunch with a friend, who told me to drop what I was doing and drive 3 hours in the opposite direction of where I was heading next to go see a castle and a pub, and when friends tell you things like this you say thank you and you go. There were promises of a formal pleasure garden with a parterre and ancient trees like the Persian Ironwood, a walled kitchen garden with vegetables and espaliered fruit, and a view of the Shannon out the front where dolphins often frolic. Dukes and Chatelaines and villagers and kindness, and one of the best pubs in Ireland.
I filled the tank of the car and drove and it was like exiting reality and entering into the phantasmic. There was something in the air, light was low in the sky but bright and slanted with long shadows—it was incandescent, almost hazy, somewhat blinding, what I imagine the light those who describe close calls with death, a full enveloping light. It was technicolor and strange and I remember feeling like I was descending as I drove south. In Ireland there are corners called “thin places,” landscapes where the spirit world and the physical world are closer and easy to merge. As I arrived I felt it would easily live up to the tales that were told to me. The place was Glin Castle.
You can feel the age in the landscape and trees as you drive in; you can tell lives and stories have been lived here, continually. It isn’t just old-tree growth; there is something else, something human and comforting, and instantly your shoulders relax.
I arrived and the staff were adjusting things as there was a photo shoot happening for a glamorous magazine, both in the Castle and in the pub at the end of the drive to the village close by. Glin Castle is one of those places where the large house and village are connected in a syncopated rhythm, the link of which came first like chicken and egg. There are ruins of a previous castle closer to the village, the current Castle having been built in the 1700s. I instantly met Catherine FitzGerald, the current chatelaine of Glin Castle, and her partner actor Dominic West, with a welcome as if I had been lost in the ether and just returned.
The Castle is grand, but not in some cartoonish way—instead, perfectly proportioned. Catherine’s family have lived in Glin for 800 years and you can see the history in the art and artifacts like tasteful cabinets of curiosities, thoughtfully curated and placed. It is a skill many of the older estates lose, the ability to see when artifacts become clutter, a room can become the spatial equivalent of white noise. This, though, was more like Glen Gould playing Bach, controlled and playful with depth and skill.
Dominic took me on a walk through to show me the rooms, 15 of them in various shades and themes of design, each named. I enjoy both a building and rooms with particular names, not for function but for description, for narrative. Our family cottage in Ontario has rooms that when you name them you can feel the stories, the inside jokes.
My room for the night is the center suite overlooking a sculpted garden walkway, the Sundial Room. It is a room one could write books like The Little Prince in. Sunlit and evergreen, bright and layered with art, real art, the kind that translates human emotions easily. I open the window and a perfect column of air enters, a clean breeze rolling down the hills through the garden and into this suite. I love a window that can open, as it allows for connection to the outside. Being sealed into a hermetic space, to me, feels controlled and desperate. I want at least the illusion that I can interact freely with the place I am in. There are cases where this is not possible, the higher floors of a skyscraper, or in a place where the environment is extreme, but for all others it is a real window that I look for.
I leave my bags in the room and we walk down through the kitchen; an architectural love letter to country estate kitchens, a comforting yellow, a wooden hutch, and tea cups, saucers, and plates in blues and in whites.
We walk to the library and through the hall. There are carpets that are warm to the eye, and an aesthetic that isn’t afraid of colors. Catherine’s father, Desmond John Villiers FitzGerald, the 29th Knight of Glin, was also the president of the Irish Georgian Society between 1991 and until his death in 2011, and a known author writing various histories on Irish furniture, painters, and estate homes.
We walk through to the gardens on the south side of the Castle and rejoin Catherine there, who is not observing the gardening but arm deep in soil and work. She has a green thumb. I can tell because I do not have a green thumb and know the look of knowledge and skill. Catherine is a professional landscape gardener, designer and writer, and knows her crafts well.
There is a balance that can be mastered like some Zen ritual between fashion and function, the perfect mixture of town and country, and both Catherine and Dominic hold these with ease, comfortably hosting diplomats while at the same time knowing how to graft apple to pear.
They tell me that tonight they will be doing a photo shoot in the local pub, O’Shaughnessy’s, and that there will be a potluck dinner and music and I am invited to come and join. The three hour post-lunch drive to get here made it just the right amount of time to take an hour to freshen up and stroll down the peastone lane to the pub and the village and work up an appetite. I have been to pubs in Dublin, Galway City, out on the Aran Islands and in the Wicklow Mountains, pubs in Beijing and Paris, pubs in Kathmandu, but this was the perfect pub. A place with a hearth and close cushioned seats, a place to sit and drink and tell stories and sing songs. The barkeep and owner Thomas O’Shaughnessy keeps the pints coming while the music plays and whispers stories of his off-season trips to Nepal to climb. At one point, Dominic recites from memory “The Green Eye of the Yellow God” and the room becomes poem, becomes song, becomes dance.
THE DETAILS
In short… A dreamy castle on the shores of the Shannon estuary with 15 luxury ensuite bedrooms and beautiful gardens, which have been in the FitzGerald family for 800 years. Glin is available to hire exclusively for private accommodation.
The surroundings… Situated on the Shannon estuary in West Limerick, 50 minutes drive from Shannon International Airport. On one side the estuary, and on the other the lush green gardens full of specimen trees and shrubs and a sheltered walled garden full of home grown produce and flowers. Easy access to the Cliffs of Moher and Killarney, Dingle, and The Burren.
The vibe… There is a danger in this part of the world of places becoming doily, a mothballesque aesthetic that hangs heavy in humid Irish air, age and antiquity rot. It is hard to walk a line between family heritage and professional hospitality, but when it is done well it can be electric, it can be honest, and true human connection. Glin threads this needle of being grand and historic while also being comfortable and approachable. It instantly feels like a place you are coming home to, like those cozy Christmas specials that make you feel fuzzy without being fictional or fake. An eclectic mix of Irish paintings and furniture—lovely fabrics and vivid Georgian colors—so much to see in each room. Bohemian. The opposite of corporate. Full of charm and individualism.
The food & drink… Chef Eoin Ruane and team create menus that are carefully planned with vegetables, herbs and fruit organically grown in the castle’s walled garden, seafood from Carrigaholt, Kerry lamb, Limerick beef and cheese sourced from local producer Jim O’Brien. Elevated Irish countryside gold!
The wellness… Yoga room and treatments and a 5K run uphill. Garden walks, forest bathing. Ballybunion, Doonbeg, Lahinch and Tralee, golf courses nearby.
Is it kid-friendly? Yes! Very much so.
Extra tip goes to… They are all exceptional, but Marie Therese is the mastermind and the team leader for organizing. Themed parties to outings and contacts, a wonderful connector to the region.
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