Altamont Gardens
An Irish Impressionistic Landscape
26 January 2024
By: James Lennox
Whichever garden I visited on my whistle-stop tour of Ireland, I was often greeted with the refrain, “Ah, you should have been here last week/next month/in the spring” (delete as applicable). It's a familiar cry and one we've all used to excuse perceived deficiencies in our own gardens.
In the case of Altamont, nestled in the rolling hills of County Carlow, spring would have been the obvious choice. The creator of the garden we see today, a chap rejoicing in the name of Fielding Lecky Watson, got into rhododendron growing in a big way between the two world wars and even named his daughter and subsequent custodian of the garden, Corona, after one of his favourite specimens.
Strangely enough, the absence of blowsy rhododendron blooms, spangly azaleas, carpets of bluebells and swathes of daffodils didn't diminish my enjoyment of the place.
In fact, I was probably better able to concentrate on what I consider to be this garden's genius - the ability of past owners to paint pictures with trees.
From the moment you catch sight of the house, the special atmosphere of Altamont starts to work its magic. Clad in Virginia creeper, with taxidermy lurking at the windows, this place is very much a period piece where you half expect Sleeping Beauty (or perhaps Norma Desmond) to be slumbering within.
While the house is a restoration waiting to happen, the garden itself is far from the briar-infested wilderness of fairy tales or the weed-strewn decay of faded Hollywood glamour.
The Nun's Walk forms the shady beech-lined entrance to the garden, backed by the walled garden.
It's an understated and elegant introduction to the garden, one of three parallel paths running from the house down to the lake. All are immaculately raked and swept, instantly giving the impression that someone, possibly the lone gardener I glimpsed, really cares about this place.
The lawn itself is a marvel of maintenance as it falls down the gentle slope. What a joy it is to see a proper lawn these days, an elegant green velvet expanse.
How unfashionable to keep it weed-free and perfectly mown, with edges clipped and no signs telling the visitors (very few on the day I was there) to keep off.
It’s a reminder that lawns have their place in a garden of this style, particularly where the natural Irish dampness removes all thoughts of irrigation.
Moreover, it's the perfect foil to a magnificent Chamaecyparis lawsoniana and a respectable Cedrus deodara that enliven the view down to the lake.
Slicing through the lawn is the central Broad Walk punctuated by Irish yew topiary that reminded me of nothing so much as Mickey Mouse's ears.
On the far side of the lawn is the Dark Walk, dominated by a Quercus ilex underplanted with ferns. This is just one of a huge variety of specimen trees forming the backdrop along this edge of the lawn, including a rather fine Sorbus thibetica ‘John Mitchell’.
All of which merely sets the scene for this garden's show-stopping centrepiece - the lake. This is the beating heart of the garden, a perfectly composed theatrical set piece. This is no Longwood (review coming soon!) - there are no flashy fountains, no rigid formality, no massive investment in stonework. Instead, a stroll around the lake reveals a showcase of the choicest trees and shrubs one might aspire to grow in this climate.
The careful arrangement of trees of varying habits creates a stunning panorama. Towering evergreens stand next to wide-spreading deciduous specimens. A lofty Scots Pine does a good impression of a Mediterranean Stone Pine (Pinus pinea), as it lords it over a lowly weeping willow.
Contrasting and complementary shapes and sizes, textures and colours line the sweep of water, the skyline resembling a rugged mountain range with not one gap through the peaks in sight.
The sheer profusion and mind-boggling variety can be slightly overwhelming, if not occasionally claustrophobic. The walk up and across the hill to the Temple comes as a breath of fresh air.
An open field dotted with sheep with far-reaching views of the distant Wicklow and Blackstairs mountains provides just enough respite before plunging down rough granite steps into the woods along the River Slaney.
Along the route back to the lake, there's a relatively young arboretum crammed with those trees that just couldn't be squeezed in anywhere else. I have huge sympathy for anyone who struggles to fit in just one more magnolia or rowan. Here there are bijou collections of both doing very well.
Less contented were the North American oaks dotted around (Q. ithaburensis, phellos and marilandica among others). I suspect the relatively cool, damp conditions that favour the glorious green lawn aren't quite what these heat-seeking oaks would choose for themselves.
While there are modest areas of herbaceous planting around and within the lawn, visitors feeling deprived of pyrotechnics at the end of summer need not despair. The adjacent walled garden, operated as a separate commercial venture, pulls out all the stops on that front. Colour-themed borders leave a final dazzling impression.
Don't get me wrong, there are obvious issues waiting to be resolved at Altamont. The native yellow water-lily (Nuphar lutea) has probably made itself a little too comfortable in the lake. Too much of a good thing means that the reflections of the trees surrounding the lake are somewhat obscured. Time to get out the rowing boat and thin these and the scrub taking over the islands.
In places, particularly at the lower level around the lake, the planting is perhaps a tad on the enthusiastic side. The rhythm of the lakeside walks might be improved with more judicious lifting of canopies to open a few more “windows” across the water.
And more could be made of the river walk which at the moment is fairly undistinguished, as is the Ice Age Glen when the aforementioned bluebells and daffodils are out of season.
As I know from my own garden in Asturias, there are two dangers lurking in the undergrowth: one is the risk of over-planting in the first place, underestimating the ultimate size and shape of prized specimens; the other is the growth rate itself of the various trees and shrubs, perennials too, unchecked by hard frost, drought or gale-force winds.
One of the drawbacks of gardening in such a favourable climate is being able to plant almost anything you want - and then not wanting to remove any of your favourites even when that might be just what is needed from a design point of view.
But that process of thinning out and renovation appears to have started. And difficult decisions are being made as to how to manage the replacement of ageing specimens such as the famed Davidia involucrata at the bottom of the lawn which now has a youngster planted nearby ready to take over when the time comes.
Altamont is not one of those gardens renowned for its designer-led division of space . Nor is there a grand house dominating the scene.
What there is in spades is a special atmosphere of a traditional country house garden, untroubled by new-fangled innovations, retaining its special charm by refusing to move with the times. In an era of wild-flower meadows, ornamental grasses and new perennial plantings at every turn, it's actually quite refreshing to be reminded that gardens of the past have so much to commend them today.
More information here: https://heritageireland.ie/places-to-visit/altamont-gardens/
