More than just a local landmark

Cavanman's Diary

When you grow up beside it, you think nothing of it.

The One Tree, a gigantic, ancient elm, is – or was – about two and a half miles from my home house, five minutes’ drive. I’ve passed it a million times. And then, one day a few months ago, I drove by and it was no more.

Back in the day, our school bus collected us in Cavan, going round by St Pat’s, Breifne College and Loreto, and headed north-west. After dropping off a few in the square in Ballyhaise, the bus wound meander down to the One Tree before turning left and heading for Redhills village.

Going round by the village, it would take us another half hour or so to get home so, if the weather was good, we’d sometimes jump off at the One Tree and try to thumb a lift home from there, which was usually successful.

It would mean standing around for a few minutes but a familiar car would always stop.

Because back then, it seemed everyone thumbed. This was pre-Celtic Tiger; most houses did not have two cars and teenagers definitely did not have access to their own wheels very often. And it was rural Ireland; public transport did not exist.

I always said that whenever I started driving, I would pick up hitch hikers, repaying my debt from all those years of thumbing lifts to football training, work or socialising. But when I finally got my first car, it was 2006, the country was booming and everyone had their own means of getting around.

And people are wary of each other now, too, and in a big hurry all the time; the thought of interrupting a journey so as to lift a complete stranger just seems mad now. As the years have gone on, there are less and less hitch hikers.

So, when you drive past the One Tree now at about 4.30 in the afternoon, you won’t see a few lads in school uniforms with their thumbs out, like we were back then as we finished off the last of the sandwiches. Once, I remember, we hid a penny in the bark. When they cleared away the tree, the penny must have gone with it.

Because if you drive by today, in fact, you won’t see the One Tree at all. Probably the most famous local landmark in our locality has now been levelled to the ground.

The history of the One Tree is long and colourful. In the Schools Collection on Dúchas.ie, there is a submission from a 70-year-old lady called Ms Galligan from Ballyhaise.

At one time, she recalled, fair days were held in Ballyhaise. The fairs were held in a field opposite the Market House called the Rabbit Hill.

“There used to come such a lot of characters to the fairs that it became a bye-word, ‘don’t make a Ballyhaise of yourself’,” she recounted.

Buyers would meet sellers at the One Tree and try to make a deal. The history, though, goes back much further. Local lore says that Red Hugh is supposed to have stopped there to rest and address his men.

The esteemed local historian Bridie M. Smith recounted the following tale on these pages 92 years ago.

“If you are travelling to Killoughter by the Ballyhaise route, you are sure to pass a noted landmark - The One Tree.

“A ghost story, preserved in a quaint old tradition, has made this spot remarkable.

“In 1651, when this whole district from Ballinacargy to Killoughter was trampled by the Parliament troops, one of the native outposts stood convenient to the One Tree.

“In the dead hours of an autumn night while the winds howled through the woods of Ardamagh and Carrickmore, the Irish troops were surprised here, where a party of Colonel Venables’ men put a large number of them to death.

“Some say that often about this time of year, one may perhaps see at the One Tree a spectral group of soldiers in death’s grasp. Indeed, an old resident from new Shannowood recently told this writer that he heard his grandfather say he witnseed this sight while travelling past here in his young days with a ‘back load’ of hay.”

Meeting place

The One Tree was a meeting place and a favourite haunt of courting couples. Some time in the 1950s, the council cut away the some of the platform of the tree, which had provided a sort of natural seating, which might have put a stop to that.

In 1961, it was reckoned to be in the region of 200 years old. Storm Debbie struck with devastating consequences that year around the country, resulting in 18 deaths. In Ballyhaise, the wind broke off the top of the One Tree, leaving just 15 feet, and blocked the road.

That year, 87-year-old Thomas Conaty, who lived nearby, told this paper that he remembered old people, when he was a young boy, telling him that the tree was fully grown at the time of the ‘Big Wind’ in 1839.

He believed the tree had been planted by one of the Newburghs who owned Ballyhaise House (now the agricultural college) prior to the Humphreys family.

Through recessions and resurgences, good times and bad, the One Tree remained, steadfast, battered but unbowed. The county ploughing championships were held nearby; the All-Ireland Cross Country Championships took place in the shadow of the tree almost while the Ballyhaise footballers played around the corner at the Flaggon Meadow, literally on the banks of the Annalee.

In 1997, it was discussed at county council level, with representatives suggesting the tree, by then old and rotten, be replaced by an oak.

A snowstorm in 2007 further reduced its size and rendered it little more than a large stump. And then, last year, it was cleared away altogether. The road itself is now treeless, although, to mark the spot, another tree has been planted on the verge. I’m sure it was time to get rid of it and it may have been dangerous for motorists but a part of me can’t help feeling sad about it all the same.

Its demise warranted just a few lines on these pages, in the Redhills news, penned by Frank Smith whose home is near by.

“Over the past few weeks, the County Council has completely removed the tree and realigned the Redhills road at the intersection. This has greatly improved the safety of the junction, which will no doubt continue to be known as ‘The One Tree Cross’.

“This may cause some confusion to future generations but, then again, perhaps not,” Frank suggested, using the example of the ‘Mill Dam’ outside Redhills, which is still referred to as such despite no sign of either a mill or a dam for many a year. Last word to musician Lisa O’Neill, who has referenced the landmark in her work.

In an interview, she said: “There’s people who’ll recognise what I mean when I sing about ‘the One Tree’ or ‘the Meadow’ but to everyone else, they’re just words and people all over the world can imagine what it is I’m talking about. There’s always going to be the select few who know that little bit more.”

It’s nice to think of someone in a far-off country humming a song about the One Tree; it’s nice, too, to be one of the “select few”, although we are not all that select, who will recall it as a vivid part of local life.