In the mid-1800s, the remote Urris Hills of Co. Donegal were considered the perfect place for distilling whiskey and poitín. The rugged landscape, twisting tracks and distance from authority offered ideal cover, earning the area the nickname “The Poitín Republic.”

The Gap of Mamore was believed to be the only way through those hills – a steep, narrow pass with treacherous footing. For Revenue men, it was a nightmare to patrol, and few locals ventured there after dark. Stories spread that the place was haunted. Some claimed those tales were genuine warnings; others said they were invented by illicit distillers to scare off the curious.

One such story tells of a man named Dan, who set out from Leenan to a fair in Derry, hoping to buy equipment for his hidden still. To avoid drawing attention, he left in the early hours, long before dawn. At four o’clock in the morning, Dan found himself walking alone through thick mist at Mamore, already regretting ignoring his wife’s warnings.

As he neared the crest of the pass, seven silent figures filed past him on the narrow path, refusing to respond to his greeting. Dan was unsettled – Donegal people, even strangers, were known for their warmth and friendliness. A moment later, another traveller appeared beside him and struck up conversation. He said he had sailed aboard the Golden Fleece, a vessel wrecked in 1817.

Later, when Dan stopped on the lower road to light his pipe and offer the man a smoke, the stranger – and the seven others – were gone without a sound or trace.

Still shaken, Dan reached Buncrana and visited an elderly relative. When he described his eerie encounter, the older man calmly explained that hundreds of wrecks lay beneath the waters of Lough Swilly, and advised Dan to remember the dead in his prayers.

On his return journey, Dan paused at the holy well – St. Columba’s Well near the top of the pass. There, he placed eight stones upon the prayer cairn: one for each spirit he believed he had met on the Gap of Mamore.