The Stone of the Big Man

I drove past it three times. Eventually, I stopped in the local village shop for a bottle of water and directions.

The young woman behind the counter gave me a friendly smile. “We’re always after getting visitors in looking for that stone,” she said. “Sell a lot of bottles of water that way.”

The little old man who was flirting shamelessly with her when I walked in took me outside and pointed out the way, then mounted his equally ancient push-bike. “Used to pick ‘taters in that field when I was a lad,” he added. “The whole village turned out for it.” He gave me a wave and pedalled slowly off.

Surprisingly for Irish directions (I’m sure you know the old joke – ‘Hmmm… well, I wouldn’t start from here…’ 😭), they were spot on. A couple of minutes drive up the road, and over a stile on the right… how could I have missed it?

Because the bloody sign was tiny and hidden by an overgrown hedge, that’s how, and the stone was way off at the other end of a huge field and couldn’t be seen from the road.

It was well worth the trip, though. That thing is HUGE!

Clochafarmore, or Cloch an Fhir Mhóir in Irish means ‘the stone of the big man’, and is located in the townland of Rathiddy, at Knockbridge, in County Louth.

You might be thinking GIANT, and in a way, you’d be right… this particular man was a giant in reputation, if not in physicality. You probably know him as Cuchulainn, legendary hero of Ulster.

Cuchulainn was born Setanta, son of lightning God, Lugh Lámhfada and the mortal princess, Dechtire, who was the sister of Ulster king, Conchubar. Even as a child, he showed great skill beyond his years in the sports of wrestling, hurling, and the arts of warriors.

When he was seven, he went to train at the court of the king. It was during this time that he earned the name of Cuchullain – Cullain’s Hound – by killing Cullain’s fiercest guard  dog as the brute leaped to attack him.

But everyone knows that story, so I’m not going to tell it here. As everyone also knows the other story he’s most famous for, the Tain Bo Cuailnge, or the ‘Cattle Raid of Cooley’, in which Queen Medb of Connacht starts a war with Ulster over possession of a bull, and how Cuchulainn holds off her army by fighting a series of single combats with Medb’s choicest warriors.

No, I’m not going to tell that one, either. You don’t have the time, and I don’t have the blog space for that epic.

But I will tell you how the Cloch an Fhir Mhóir got its name….

After a visit to his mother, Cuchulainn was returning to battle against the men of Connacht when he came across a woman crying and washing his bloody clothing in a stream. No matter how much she scrubbed at it, she could not wash out the stain of blood, and he knew it was an omen of his death.

He continued on his journey and after a while came across three old women roasting a dog on spits made from rowan wood, and they bid him sit down and eat with them. Cuchulainn was now in a quandary, for he was honour-bound by two geasa: never to eat dog meat, and never to refuse hospitality when it was offered.

So he decided it would be more dishonourable to refuse the food, and sat down with them to eat. But no sooner had the first bite of dog-flesh passed his lips, and he felt a weakness claim his body, and he knew this was an omen of his impending death.

After his meal, he continued on his way and soon came across his enemy who were arrayed in battle formation against him; they made a wall of their shields and strengthened it with their strongest men in the centre, and their Druids prepared to take his spears from him, for they had a prophecy in which three kings would be killed by those spears.

When Cuchullain saw them, he ordered his charioteer, Laeg, to drive straight at them…


“and Cuchulain came against them in his chariot, doing his three thunder feats, and he used his spear and his sword in such a way, that their heads, and their hands, and their feet, and their bones, were scattered through the plain of Muirthemne; like the sands on the shore, like the stars in the sky, like the dew in May, like snow-flakes and hailstones, like leaves of the trees, like buttercups in a meadow, like grass under the feet of cattle on a fine summer day. It is red that plain was with the slaughter Cuchulain made when he came crashing over it.”

from Lady Gregory’s The Death of Cuchulainn


“Give your spear to me,” called one of the Druids.

“You are not so much in want of it as I am myself,” Cuchulainn growled in reply (love that… Lady G.’s words, not mine, however😜). With that he cast the spear at the Druid, and it went through his head and killed the men also on either side.

Lugaid, Cuchulainn’s enemy, retrieved the spear and cast it at Cuchulainn as he charged by on his chariot, but his aim was not true, and it pierced Laeg, and so it was that the King of Charioteers was killed that day by the Hound’s very own spear.

“Give me your spear,” demanded a second Druid, and Cuchulainn dutifully cast it at him. It passed through his head, and Erc took it this time, and fired it at Cuchulainn, but he charged by in his chariot too quickly for Erc. The missile missed and went through his horse, the great Grey of Macha instead, and so it was that the King of Horses died that day by Cuchulainn’s second spear.

“Give me your spear,” yelled a third Druid, and without delay, Cuchulainn hurled it at him as hard as he could, and it passed clean through the unfortunate man’s head. Lugaid siezed the weapon and threw it, and this time it found its mark: it passed through Cuchulainn’s body, and as he watched ‘his bowels came out on the cushions of the chariot’ he knew he had received his death wound.

‘Then he gathered up his bowels into his body’ and tied himself with his belt to a tall pillar-stone standing close by so that he would meet his death standing on his feet like a warrior.

His enemies gathered at a distance but did not dare approach; no one would be foolish enough to meet the great Cuchulainn in close combat, even with his death wound upon him. Three days they waited, until finally the Morrigan landed on his shoulder in her guise of black raven feathers, and they knew he was dead.

And so it was that the prophecy was fulfilled, and the great King of Heroes was killed by his very own spear.

Stones such as these are thought to have been set up in the bronze age, possibly as memorials to some special person or event, or perhaps as territorial markers. I’d also like to point out that not everything vaguely cylindrical and upstanding has phallic significance.

The area in which Cuchulainn’s Stone is located is named An Breisleach Mor in Irish, meaning ‘the Great Carnage’, and the field is still known locally as the ‘Field of Slaughter’.  Perhaps there really was a battle which took place there in the far distant past.

A bronze age spear head was found near the stone some time in the 1920s, and handed over for safekeeping to the parish priest, a Fr Seamus Quinn, after whom the local GAA pitch was named, and subsequently was lost. It’s a nice touch, though… another of those little life coincidences which connect us to the stories of the past.

Cloch an Fhir Mhóir stands over 3m (10ft) tall, and 1.3m wide. It has a deep fissure in it, which looks as if it could have been caused by a lightning strike, at least to my fanciful imagination, which would be fitting, since the Hound’s father was Lugh. I can imagine Lugh lashing out at the stone in fury and sorrow after his son was so cruelly killed there.

It’s a very peaceful place, full of light and space and wind and sky, set on top of a rolling hill, with a wonderful wide panoramic view across the valley. I leaned with my back against the stone, like the hero once did, and could almost see the approach of the army, watching and waiting fearfully for death.

No crow landed on my shoulder, and so far I’m still here…

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50 Comments on “The Stone of the Big Man

  1. Sorry I’m a bit late to the comments, Ali – as always, really enjoyed this post, both for your own travels to the stone and the legend attached to it. A giant among men indeed. And brave you, leaning against the stone – what would you have done if a raven had landed? 😉

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    • Hi Rae! So sorry it took so long to get back to you, I thin k WP was hiding your comment from me, I’ve only just seen it! That is the best news, I am delighted to hear it! Thanks for letting me know! 😁

      Liked by 1 person

      • Have since finished it and plan to read the next in the series. When I will get to it is a good question, however, since school has started and my reading time has been sliced drastically. I read for characterization, usually rather than plot, but omgosh, your plot kept me on the edge of the chair and I cared about the characters too. Great book.

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  2. another fantastic story Ali, I was totally engrossed. I am quite addicted to hero tales and this is no exception. I love the Morrigan references ( washing clothes and the raven),fate and destiny of course. It must be the Celt in me as well. Beautiful video of the stone.

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  3. My goodness, a bit of a horror story this one, Ali, what with picking up one’s own bowels, spears through heads and then sitting down and eating dog meat. Thank goodness Toby had his eyes closed while I read this. We have a fair few standing stones in Wales, but nothing as big as this stone I don’t think.
    Glad you survived the time slip while standing against the stone.

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  4. Wonderfully told as always Ali. The druids weren’t the brightest were they? I like the fact that so many of these historical sites in Ireland are – apart from the major showpieces – tucked away. It’s as if the locals see them as a natural part of their landscape and not as anything particularly noteworthy.

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    • I think they do. That has drawbacks as well as advantages. But the stone is still standing and all these years has been farmed around and left alone to its dreaming. Not all ancient monuments have been so respected, sadly. 😊

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  5. For some reason this story really struck a chord in me! I’m drawn to standing stones! And I love the raven (including the picture at the top) – the Dark Bird in The Termite Queen. Too bad I didn’t somehow include some Irish myth in my termite series!

    Liked by 1 person

    • It is a great story, isn’t it? All the more remarkable for being attached to this particular stone. I love that about the Irish landscape. I’m sure you have a lot of stories in you yet… some Irish myth is bound to surface at some point. 😁

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  6. What a cool story! I was vaguely aware of the tale of Cuchulainn’s death, but didn’t realize there was a physical place associated with it; if I ever go back to Ireland I’ll have to look for it!

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    • It’s a great story, isn’t it? Part of the epic Táin bó Cúainge, the Cattle Raid of Cooley. Its one of the things I love about the Irish landscape, that the old tales and characters are tied to actual places, in this case quite literally!!! 😂

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  7. Bloody hell – picked up his own intestines and the stood waiting to die for 3 freaking days???? These warriors I tell ya! Wouldn’t want to meet any of them! 😂

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  8. I love these stories of heroic exploits and bloody feats. Isn’t it typical that they would take a battle and pass down the story of it as if all the killing was done by the one hero? I bet you’re right, that there really was a battle on the site and a great warrior was killed by that stone. It’s a small leap for an Irish imagination to attribute the whole thing to one great hero 🙂

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    • It sure is! Its a wonderful place to visit, too. Its a bronze age monument, but you can totally imagine it being associated with a battle in the vicinity hundreds of years later. Its also an excellent place to pitch a battle strategically, too… if you placed yourself at the top of that gentle hill, you’d definitely have the advantage, and there’s plenty of space for cavalry too. Would you believe I’ve been studying the Táin at uni these last few weeks… it’s WORK! How lucky am I???

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  9. I’m glad The Morrigan didn’t visit you at the stone Ali, I’m sure you have more tales to share. It would be interesting to walk the field with a metal detector to see if proof of a big battle could be found.
    xxx Massive Hugs xxx

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  10. That’s an interesting story, Ali. I wasn’t sure from your post whether you believed the story or were just retelling it? I think that there has got to be some truth in the stories passed down through the ages, don’t you? I also liked the beginning of your post where you were telling about some of the local people and the little old man. I think that could easily lead into a colorful story of its own.

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    • Thanks, Rachele. Just retelling it, but if Cuchulainn never existed, I’m sure there were many men in his day who were just like him. Like you, I believe there has to be some truth in these old stories, but I think we are now beyond discovering it. I do love how these stories are tied to real places in the landscape, though. Haha, yes, that bit about the local people really happened. Funny thing was, the old guy on the bike caught up with me as I was leaving, too, and we had another little chat… he was quite a character! 😊

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