Forever young

Of all mankind’s great myths, few have crossed cultures and impelled action quite like the story of the ‘Fountain of Youth’.

Down through the ages, explorers and adventurers, bewitched by the idea of a magic fountain that springs water that gives everlasting life, have polished their pipes, ironed their khaki trousers and kissed their aul’ dolls good luck, before venturing forth into the great unknown.

“You better not be out gallivanting all night,” roared the mother of Spanish explorer and first governor of Puerto Rico, Juan Ponce de León, as he bailed out the front door, embarking on his quest to find the enchanted waters of Bimini.

“Don’t worry,” he shouted back, running down the driveway, “when I get back you’ll never have to splash out on another tub of anti-aging cream as long as you live!”

And so it went for millennia. Men and women, possessed by a penchant for life and an aversion to aging, chopped through jungles and sailed across seas, all in the vain hope of drinking, bathing or backstroking in waters that would imbue them with eternal youth.

For somebody living in 21st century Ireland, it is easy to imagine that these frequently fatal expeditions were just as fictional as the ‘Fountain of Youth’ itself.

However, just because these voyages happened hundreds of years ago, and seem rather rare to our modern sensibilities, does not mean they did not happen at all.

In fact, they most certainly did.

Yes. It is mad to think – but important to know – that real people, made of the exact same matter as me and you, became so completely captivated by the idea of finding a fountain that could grant onto them perpetual health, that they actually quit their jobs, left their families, and undertook journeys of immense sacrifice, suffering and, for many, death.

Sad, when you think about it, isn’t it? Imagine wasting your youth searching for that which will keep you young forever.

Imagine spending your entire life trying to find that which will keep you alive for eternity.

I wonder if any of the explorers, lying marooned and starving on their sandy deathbed, ever realised the irony of their tragic predicament,and laughed themselves out of existence.

Unlikely, is the simple answer.

They were probably too concerned with the vultures perched in the trees above them, elbowing each other and licking their beaks.

Why do I bring up the ‘Fountain of Youth’ in the first place? Because, though we like to pretend that we are fundamentally different from the people who have come before us, our mad, stupid, superstitious ancestors, we are not.

“No more do we confuse fairytale with fact,” we say, “and gone are the days when snake oil sold! The golden age of exploration was good craic, but this is the day of science and sense.”

Though this is a bit true, it certainly is not the whole story.

Though we might not be jumping in our kayaks and rowing out into the Atlantic in pursuit of everlasting life, our society still fetishes youth and harbours a massive phobia of aging and death.

I am telling you…

Armed with just the right number of pints and a real nostalgic playlist, I reckon I could convince a team of aul’ fellas to head up the Gortin Glens some night to have one last look for Juan Ponce de León’s fantastical fountain.