Lough Hyne, West Cork

Lough Hyne at Sunrise

There are very few places that capture the magic of West Cork, and Lough Hyne is definitely one of them. This is one of my go-to spots every time I visit Ireland, and my photo captures it during an early morning hike at sunrise. There is a wonderful hike to the top of the hill that captures the beauty of the lough from above, and a lovely walk around two sides of the lough is accessible to everyone.

Lough Hyne is entirely landlocked, except for a narrow channel in one corner known as the Rapids, where water flows in and out depending on the sea level outside. At first glance, it appears to be a still freshwater lake, which it likely was in the past. There is a border of forest along the water's edge to the west, with more trees climbing up the slopes of Lough Hyne Hill. The lough covers an area of about 150 acres and reaches a depth of 170 feet at its deepest point. The water is saltwater due to the slight changes in tidal activity, and the ecosystem here resembles that of the sea. This special lake is home to an impressive variety of marine life, some of which is unique to Lough Hyne.

Lough Hyne has been the subject of scientific study for over 100 years and was designated as Ireland’s first and only Marine Nature Reserve in 1981. It has been an area of marine research for many across Europe for the past 45 years. It has been a great subject for poems and songs over the years, and the most famous one is called Lough Hyne and here it is.

I know a lake where the cool waves break,
And softly fall on the silver sand –
And no steps intrude on that solitude,
And no voice, save mine, disturbs the strand.

And a mountain bold, like a giant of old
Turned to stone by some magic spell,
Uprears in might his misty height,
And his craggy sides are wooded well.

In the midst doth smile a little Isle,
And its verdure shames the emerald’s green –
On its grassy side, in ruined pride,
A castle of old is darkling seen.

On its lofty crest the wild crane’s nest,
In its halls the sheep good shelter find;
And the ivy shades where a hundred blades
Were hung, when the owner in sleep reclined.

That chieftain of old could he now behold
His lordly tower a shepherd’s pen,
His corpse, long dead, from its narrow bed
Would rise, with anger and shame again.

‘Tis sweet to gaze when the sun‘s bright rays
Are cooling themselves in the trembling wave –
But ‘tis sweeter far when the evening star
Shines like a tear at Friendships grave.

There the hollow shells through their wreathed cells,
Make music on the lonely shore,
As the summer breeze, through the distant trees,
Murmurs in fragrant breathings o’er.

And the sea weed shines, like the hidden mines,
Or the fairy cities beneath the sea;
And the wave-washed stones are bright as the thrones
Of the ancient Kings of Araby.

If it were my lot in that fairy spot
To live for ever, and dream ’twere mine,
Courts might woo, and kings pursue,
Ere I would leave thee – loved Lough-Ine.

Fitz-James O’Brien 1828 – 1862.