Dreaming of Camelot in an Irish castle

Published Jun 10, 2015

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Dublin - Ashford Castle, a medieval Anglo-Norman structure complete with De Burgos clock towers, embattlements, and a resident ghost, in County Mayo, Ireland, has become a destination as fabled as Camelot and with a guest list even more illustrious.

Our Irish tour guide raised her eyebrows in awe and remarked that a visit to Ashford Castle was “tantamount to entering the Royal Box at Wimbledon – you know you have arrived”.

Driving past the imposing gatehouse, over the solid stone bridge across the River Cong and towards the soaring, flag-adorned turrets of Ashford against the spellbinding backdrop of Lough Corrib, with its 354 isles, I could hear Richard Harris singing: “In short there really is not, a more enchanting spot…”

Valets resplendent in Irish tartans escorted us past the enormous stone Irish hounds guarding the threshold into the panelled reception. Here you stop to catch your breath, sign in and behold the imposing Ashford crest and a suit of armour, at ease beneath original oil paintings and chandeliers of a scale befitting a castle.

On entering the great Oak Hall with its surrounding gallery and exquisitely decorated adjoining dining wings, one is – unusually for a castle – immediately bathed in natural light flooding in from wall-to-wall windows affording a spectacular view of immaculate lawns, foaming fountains, proud parapets and the dramatic shoreline of the largest loch in Ireland.

The Tollman family from South Africa recently acquired ownership of Ashford and the style with which they have integrated every centimetre of this 800-year-old and 142-hectare landmark into a hotel, golf course and spa without compromising its historic and Irish identity is something to behold.

Every centimetre of brocaded fabric, every original painting, every Murano glass chandelier, every piece of silver cutlery, every objet d’art or leather-bound book has been devoutly sourced from the best suppliers in the world. If you believe you have experienced the ultimate in four-poster luxury, think again. You will not sleep in a suite or bath in a bathroom so well appointed, so sumptuous, or with so much attention to minute detail anywhere in the world.

At Ashford you dine like a king, be it at the spacious George V restaurant or the more rustic Cullen’s at the Cottage (a traditional Irish thatched cottage within the grounds). High tea is presented on a tier taller than the table, laden with some of Bea Tollman’s titillating specialities.

And like every item of decor in the rooms, every morsel on your Wedgewood plates is sourced from nearby organic farms or grown in the vegetable gardens on the property. A comprehensive wine list spans continents and includes not only your ultimate Chateaux Petrus, but the house wine, Bouchard Finlayson from South Africa, where the Tollmans have their own vineyard.

Oscar Wilde, who lived nearby, was a regular explorer of these vast treed grounds and for my partner, a former South African and Irish Open tennis champion, a couple of sets on the newly laid courts, nestled near the waterline along one of the signature parkland walks, was mandatory. We couldn’t recall a setting so sublime for tennis.

To cap it, a golden eagle, participating in a private falconry lesson, swooped down and landed on the fence to observe a rally. Ashford boasts the first School of Falconry in Ireland. Its impressive equestrian centre was opened earlier this year; a couple of handsome steeds had flashed past me in the forest, a reminder that the Irish were as accomplished in the saddle as at swinging a golf club.

The golf course fairways are under construction, as is the Ashford Spa. But undoubtedly the biggest sporting attraction in the summer, at the height of the mayfly hatch, is fly fishing for brown trout and Atlantic Salmon along the pristine River Cong.

If you miss the boat trip out to the islands with Captain Luskin, chat to the staff. The Irish know their stuff and will regale a good gothic ghost story sooner than a nightingale sings.

Deborah Curtis-Setchell, Saturday Star

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