The Hill of Tara: A Personal Connection to Ireland’s Ancient Capital

Set gently into the landscape of County Meath, Tara is not defined by dramatic peaks or sweeping cliffs. Instead, it carries a quiet presence. A sense of history that runs deep beneath your feet. For over five thousand years, this has been a place of gathering, ceremony, and meaning.

Traditionally known as the seat of the High Kings of Ireland, Tara is woven into the very fabric of our mythology and identity. Here, kings were crowned at the Lia Fáil, the Stone of Destiny, said to roar in recognition of the rightful ruler. Nearby, the Mound of the Hostages, a Neolithic tomb dating back to 3200 BC, still stands as a reminder of the people who came long before us.

But for me, the Hill of Tara is more than a historic site. It is part of my family’s story.

A Life Lived on the Hill

Long before Tara became a protected national monument, it was a living, working landscape.

My grandparents, Bill and Marie Tormey, along with their children Edward, my father and my aunts Niamh and Maeve, farmed land at Castletown on the Hill of Tara. The land had been in our family for generations, passed down through time, much like the stories that surround the hill itself.  This was not the Tara of guidebooks or tourist trails. It was home.

Fields were worked, animals were raised, and life unfolded against a backdrop of ancient monuments that had stood for thousands of years. My father Edward and his sisters Niamh and Maeve grew up farming this land, embracing both tradition and change. Niamh, in particular, was ahead of her time, one of the first women locally to drive and operate large tractors, continuing a life on the land that still continues today.

The End of an Era

In 1975, the Irish State, recognising the importance of preserving Tara as a national monument, acquired the land through compulsory purchase. My grandparents, Bill and Marie Tormey, were the last private owners of this land on the Hill of Tara.

This moment marked the end of our family’s life on the hill, but also the beginning of Tara’s protection for future generations. What many visitors may not realise is that this transition was not just administrative. It was deeply personal. Families who had lived and worked this land for generations became part of a wider national story.  There is even a recorded legal case involving my grandmother, Marie E. Tormey, and the Commissioners for Public Works, highlighting the complexity of that time and the importance of what was being preserved.

Where Ancient History Meets Living Memory

Today, visitors walk the Hill of Tara with a sense of wonder. They stand at the Lia Fáil, explore the Mound of the Hostages and walk the banks of the Banquet Hall, and take in the quiet beauty of the landscape. Few realise that until relatively recently, this same ground was part of everyday life for families like mine. For me, Tara represents something rare. A place where Ireland’s ancient past and more recent history sit side by side. It is where mythology meets memory where we continue to celebrate each year on 21^st June, the longest day of the year, it seems poignant, and necessary as both my grandparents are buried in the grounds of the church yard that St. Patrick’s statue overlooks.

A Story Worth Sharing

At The Lansdowne Kenmare, we often speak about connection. To place, to story, to heritage, Patrick’s family’s heritage. The Hill of Tara is a reminder of my heritage, that history is not just something we visit. It is something we inherit, and sometimes, if we are lucky, it is something we are part of.

If you are exploring Ireland’s ancient east, Tara is a place to pause. To walk slowly. To listen. You may just feel it too.