Ennistymon House – now the Falls Hotel – sits at the heart of one of north Clare’s most characterful towns, overlooking the celebrated cascades of the River Inagh. The house became MacNamara property through marriage in the late eighteenth century, and the family – one of the most powerful Gaelic dynasties in Clare, with roots stretching back centuries – held it for generations. Among the most distinguished members of that family was Admiral Sir Burton MacNamara KCB, a Royal Navy officer and son of Francis MacNamara of Doolin. He is the man at the centre of this story.

The Dullahan – the headless horseman of Irish folklore – is one of the most feared figures in the supernatural tradition of this island. He travels at night, driving a black coach, and where he stops, death follows. Those who hear the coach approaching are advised not to open their doors or gates — and certainly not to look. The Dullahan does not come to warn. He comes to collect.

An old account attached to Ennistymon House tells of a servant who heard the rumble of coach wheels coming up the avenue late one night. It was the 11th December 1876. He knew, at that hour, that something was wrong. Rather than barring the way, he ran ahead and opened the gates one by one to let the coach pass freely. As it clattered through the final gate, he threw himself into a ditch and kept his face down until the sound faded into the dark.

The following day, word reached Ennistymon that Admiral Sir Burton MacNamara had died in London.

The servant’s instinct to open the gates rather than obstruct the coach is consistent with folk tradition – those who stand in the way of the death coach are said to fare worse than those who clear a path. Whether his actions spared him, or whether he simply had the presence of mind to stay out of sight, the story does not say.

A second tradition is also attached to the grounds of Ennistymon House. A large black dog has been reported roaming the estate – a creature of considerable size that has, by all accounts, never shown the slightest aggression towards those who have encountered it. It simply moves through the grounds and goes about whatever business it has there.

In Irish and wider Celtic tradition, the black dog occupies an interesting position. Unlike its English counterpart – Black Shuck of East Anglia, or the Barghest of Yorkshire, creatures associated with death and ill omen – the Irish black dog does not always carry a sinister meaning. In some traditions it is protective rather than threatening, a guardian presence rather than a harbinger. The Ennistymon hound appears to fall into this category. No harm has ever been reported following an encounter with it, and no specific origin has been attached to it.

Whether it is connected to the MacNamara family, to the long history of the estate, or to something older in the landscape beneath it, nobody has been able to say. It is simply there – and apparently has been for a long time.