'The Glen'
March 2011 – A visit to ‘The Glen’ near the foot of Knocknarea in Co. Sligo. ‘The Glen’ is situated to the south of Knocknarea Mountain on the Coolera Peninsula, Co. Sligo. The site comprises a remarkable narrow, linear gorge/limestone rift, 10-20m deep, up to 15 m wide, running almost one kilometre along the mountainside. Despite the dramatic siting on the southern side of Knocknarea, the gorge is completely hidden from view. It can be entered through a small, almost hidden gate on the south-east side of the Glen road opposite a small well.
The gorge is within Carboniferous Limestone. This limestone rift is a regular, parallel sided and very straight gorge. It is probably the result of slope failure and mass-movement of the down-slope side. Movement occurred along a fracture like those in the Swiss Valley at Glencar, once the side of the Knocknarea hill lost the support of the ice sheet at the end of the last glaciation (about 10-12,000 years ago).
Although there appears to be easy public access, the site is a wildlife refuge; the vegetation in the Glen is luxuriant and its flora has made it an attraction for botanists. Sycamore, Beech, Scots pine and Oak flourish here. Hazel, Holly, Honeysuckle and the bramble-bush thrive between the cliff faces. There is an abundance of Ivy throughout, while one of the most striking features of the vegetation is the extreme heights attained by both the Fern and nettle Families. There are also active and relict tufa deposits, which indicate lime charged waters seeping on horizons in the limestone.
The Glen was beautifully described by journalist William Bulfin in 1903: ‘Soon after coming to the slope of the hill you meet one of the queerest, wildest, and most beautiful of glens. It is a wondrously romantic freak of nature planted there in a cleft in the rock and walled off from the world, as if the Great Mother meant to lock it up and hide it away for her own use. It is thickly wooded, narrow and deep. The trees meet over the path in places, and the ferns touch you as you pass. The spirits of Knocknarea must love it. One can fancy how they made it their own centuries ago. A mystic poet might dream his life away in it, holding communication with the hero-dead of Connacht.’