It must have been about 20 years ago , we were in West Cork , Síle, Daughter Deirdre and I.
I can no longer remember what we were doing there but we must have had some time on our hands , and the day must have been still young when we passed through Glengarriff because I got the notion of buying some picnic food in Mannings Emporium there and eating this for lunch on top of the mountain between there and Kenmare -where we were bound.

I can no longer the name of this pass but somewhere on the top, with a spectacular view both inland and to the sea we got out our Mannings goodies and tucked in.

It was after this delicious lunch ( I remember some particularly runny Mileens) when I went for a little stroll about our picnic spot.

It was then that I started having the strangest sensation.
As I walked about I noticed some people walking just behind me out of the corner of my eye.
I would turn my head to look at them and there would be no-one there.
After a while I got cute , I delayed turning my head as long as possible to get as much information about there people as possible but soon realised they were as cute as I was and other than discovering that they seemed to be all dressed in white , were rather smaller that normal and seemed to be in a chain as if holding hands I was still none the wiser.
The other significant factor was that they were not at all scarey these misty people , maybe this was just because it was broad day and a sunny one at that.

When I got back to Síle and Deirdre I told them about my wierd sensation- they just scoffed it off as one of my ramblings, and really so did I.

Just as we were packing up to go on there was a rattle and roar and a car, obviously in trouble pulled up next to us.
Out of this car, stepped a bit of an apparition.
This was a perfectly respectable middle aged (or maybe a little younger) lady , attractive in a comfortable way , but entirely inappropriatly dressed in something flowing and made of chiffon.
“Are you going to Glengarriff ? I was going to a wedding in Kilarney and my car is destroyed I have to get back to Jimmy Sullivan’s garage and get him up here to fix it ”
We explained we were heading in the opposite direction so couldn’t help.
“Ah Well, No Matter , any one passing will bring me down- I’d call me husband but he’s sick in bed ”

She then went on while she waited for a lift , to give us much too much information.
How she was her husband’s third wife (he had been widowed twice) how the “boys” his sons , didn’t like her- a sort of “Desire Under the Elms ” West Cork style.
Then suddenly she turned and said ” Why did you stop up here, this place gives me the creeps , don’t you know its a hungry road ?”

It took very little pressing for her to tell us the story.

At the time of the potato famine the work house in Glengarriff was full of destitute farmers and their families.
The day came when the work house itself ran out of food so the manager sent the hungry off up the mountains to look for asylum in the workhouses in Kenmare and Killarney.
” It was a terrible thing to do, sure they were weak and starving, many of them died , especially the old folk and the young childer”
They say the dead haunt this road dressed in their shrouds”

Then a car came up the mountain heading towards Glengarriff and Mrs. Chiffon , hailed it successfully and with a cheery wave headed home.

We finished packing up the car fairly quickly and sought refuge ourselves in Kenmare.