In a farm field on a low hill east of Dingle, nine ogham stones lie inside a circular earthen bank: eight arranged in a ring, each lying flat and pointing outwards, with the ninth at the centre. They are rounded, cigar-shaped blocks of water-rolled sandstone, all carried here from Minard Beach further east on the peninsula, and they were carved as grave markers in the 5th and 6th centuries AD (roughly AD 400–550), in the earliest written form of the Irish language.
That alphabet, ogham, is a line of notches and strokes cut along the edge of the stone. The inscriptions here record names and lineage. One names Mac-Iair, son of the Corcu Duibne – the early tribe that ruled the Dingle Peninsula – and four of the nine stones also carry a simple cross, scratched in as Christianity took hold over the old pagan markers.
The town of the priest, and a children’s burial ground
The stones stand inside the bank of an early Christian monastery, about 30 metres across, probably founded in the 5th century. The timber buildings rotted away long ago, leaving only the low earthen ring, but the site gave the townland its name: Baile an tSagairt, ‘the town of the priest’. Locally it is also called An Cheallúnach, the old churchyard, or An Lisín, the small fort.
Its sadder history is more recent. Long after the monastery was gone, Ballintaggart was used as a cillín – a burial ground for unbaptised children, who under old church practice could not be buried in consecrated ground. That continued here until at least the 1930s, which is worth knowing as you stand among the stones: this is a graveyard, and a fairly raw one.
Visiting
Be clear about what this is: an unstaffed Office of Public Works national monument (reference 64) in a working farm field, with no car park, no paths, no toilets and no signboard beyond the field. It sits immediately east of the Dingle Racecourse, about 2.4 km (1.5 miles) southeast of Dingle town, off the N86. There’s no official parking, so leave the car somewhere that won’t block farm access and walk in; the ground is rough, grassy pasture, often grazed, so wear proper shoes and close any gates behind you. It is not suitable for wheelchairs.
The carvings are shallow and vanish in flat midday light – come in early morning or late afternoon, when low sun throws the notches into relief, and you’ll actually be able to read the stem-lines. Don’t scrape or wet the stones to bring the letters out; that only speeds their weathering.
This isn’t a destination to cross the peninsula for. But it’s free, it’s quiet, and if you’re already near Dingle – especially over the early-August bank holiday, when the Dingle Races run for three days on the course next door – it’s a genuine 20 minutes with Ireland’s oldest writing, away from the crowds on the Slea Head Drive.