We arrive at the Dublin airport before the country wakes up. There are eleven of us, an entire family trundling out of the baggage claim laden with duffel bags and backpacks, from grandparents to my youngest cousin. I didn't sleep much on the plane, but as we leave the airport on our chartered bus I am too busy drinking in the scenery and the sunrise to feel weary.
A couple of hours on the bus and our first stop is Newgrange. "It's an ancient portal tomb dating back thousands of years," explains my grandmother, handing her iPhone around to show us pictures of the monument. The time difference is beginning to catch up to me, but I put on a brave face while we wander through the visitor center and out to the bus stop where we'll catch a ride through the park to the tomb. The monument is clearly visible, probably a couple of miles away; we could hike there but for a few obstacles. The land between us is mostly rolling fields and hills, easy to traverse, but we are cut off from the rest of the park by a thick grove of trees and a steep gorge. A creek at the bottom of the ravine glints in the sunlight.
"Welcome to Newgrange," says our guide as we approach. She speaks with a thick accent, pronouncing her "th-" sounds with a silent "h," as she details dates and facts and myths about the prehistoric monument. She explains that we will all be able to go inside the tomb itself after splitting into a few small groups. "While you wait, feel free to explore the area around the mound," she says.
The stones that the mound rests on are broad, flat slabs, many of them sporting etchings of spirals and geometric shapes.
I am fascinated. "Is it just me, or is that a perfect double helix?" I demand of my mother, gesturing to a particular carving. I walk the full circumference of the mound to examine all of the engravings I can find. Before long, however, our guide calls us back. "We'll be going inside the chamber now," she says. "Watch your heads."
The entrance is small and the winding passage within narrow enough that we all have to turn sideways to slip between towering stones. I am one of the first inside and so I am relegated to the back of the chamber, hemmed in on all sides by thousands of tons of stone. The guide begins to explain more of the mythology of Newgrange, but I am only half listening, instead gazing around the cavern with a sense of peace I don't normally associate with small places.
Newgrange is older than Stonehenge, older than the pyramids of Giza. It is believed to be a religious monument, a passage tomb (or burial ground), and perhaps the centerpoint of some astronomy-based faith. This much is clear when the guide warns us that she's going to turn off the lights and suddenly we are plunged into total darkness.
... Almost total. Through that narrow, winding passage, twenty meters in the dark, a single ray of light wriggles through and strikes the back wall of the cave.
"Once a year, on the winter solstice, the sun shines into this chamber and completely illuminates it," says our guide. "You can see all of the carvings inside unaided. It lasts almost twenty minutes."
I do not feel spooked by this ghost story of age-old science and faith. My blood is heavy in my veins and I feel present, here in the near-darkness, surrounded by something more ancient than I have ever imagined. I don't speak until I am once again squinting into bright sunlight as I duck out of the exit passageway.
"What did you think?" says my mom.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I wish we could come back for the solstice." It's just the first day. Gotta play it cool.
