They tell stories, keep secrets, and preserve memories of places visited but long forgotten. As an inspiring guiding light to explore the landscape, they are vibrant with pedestrians, cyclists, and motorists. These help you understand slopes and contours, valley folds, the location of forests, lakes, and rivers, abandoned village sites, lost ports, and more.
In other words, maps give you the freedom to find your way again if you get lost.
This year the Ordnance Survey of Ireland is commemorating its 200th anniversary since its establishment in 1824. Before the split, the OS was an All-Ireland organization with its headquarters at Mountjoy House in Phoenix Park. However, on 1 January 1922, the OS of Northern Ireland was established in Belfast, and on 1 April of the same year, the OS of the Free State, known as the Ordnance Survey of Ireland, was established. On 1 March 2023, OSI merged with the Real Estate Registration and Valuation Office and was established under a new national body, Tailte Éireann (“Land of Ireland”).
Originally founded in 1791, the organization was set up to map the south coast of England in fear of invasion by Napoleon.
However, the task of the first survey in Ireland was initially to provide officials with a basis for a general valuation of land. Later, the 6-inch map was used for other purposes, making its mission more complex than elsewhere.
The interdisciplinary project incorporated folklore, literature, language, antiquities, and religion. Detailed memoirs were begun in 1830, while geological surveys were expanded in parallel.
Despite an official ban on Irish involvement, the investigation was forced to seek local expertise. One important person appeared here. John O’Donovan was an Irish linguist who conducted the research and later became professor of Celtic studies at Queen’s University, Belfast. He was an authority on translations from Irish to English, determining spelling and pronunciation, and suggesting English versions of the names he recorded.
Part of the map-making process involved replacing ancient Gaelic place names with English place names. Attempts were made to thwart some measurements, while thorny issues regarding Irish place names arose, including areas of disagreement between local authorities and mapmakers. This element was introduced in Translations (1980), Brian Friel’s tragicomedy about colonialism, cultural identity, and erosion. This three-act play is set in his 1833 fictional location in Ballybeg, County Donegal (translated from Bylehe Beag, meaning “small town”), although some villages in Ireland are called Ballybeg. I am.
Two centuries ago, surveyors roamed shelterless marshes armed with theodolites and chains, powerful lamps, inclinometers, and heliostats to control points on mountain tops. They recorded various place names in field books, drew sketches of hills, and plotted precise details.
Georges-Victor du Noyer, an artist and local geologist, was appointed as topographic mapper and hired by the OS to sketch important features of the landscape and record flora and fauna.
Fast forward to the 21st century, and smartphone apps, sat-navs, digital imagery, and today’s spatial data are a world away from the methods of the first surveyors.
Today’s printed maps are adorned with a color cover photo, perhaps featuring a beautiful coastal scene, beach, or ancient scene. When you spread out a large OS sheet on your kitchen table, multi-layered possibilities open up before you. When you open the app and stare at the small screen, you’ll be hard-pressed to find any romance there.
The maps used by determined hikers often reflect their personal history, with zigzagging routes drawn in pitch black, handwritten notes, compass bearings, and scrawled phone numbers.
Maps are power, providing knowledge and endless suggestions for the mysteries of the countryside.
The information, inspiration, and practical tips they provide are a resource for writers, artists, musicians, storytellers, and even diarists. In fact, one of the early surveyors, John Keegan from Morte, Westmeath, kept his diary, Diary of a Young Irishman 1836-1847, published in 1928.
Besides its obvious use in helping walkers locate the concrete triangular pillars on top of mountains, this map is also invaluable in locating quiet forests.
Maps are also a bond with strangers. Do this in a cafe, pub, or on the street and you’ll attract the attention of locals who will help you find your way, or even point you in the wrong direction.
As you peruse a map in the Discovery or Adventure series, you’ll notice standing stones, promontory forts, ancient rock art carvings, holy wells, packhorse bridges, or sirini (tombs of unbaptized children). Hidden landscapes such as places come to life with the thrill of anticipation.
Once you get the itch to look at a map, within seconds you are transported outdoors and indulged in the unusual aesthetic pleasures of historical cartography. An hour later, you might be like a drunk accordion player, struggling to fold the map back into a crumpled bellows.