Humble Beginnings

From Fields
to Retreat

From Vision to Five-Star Nature Retreat

Our Story

Two families owned two fields that lay side-by-side. With a shared vision, the two fields merged and Beds of Silk came to life. In 2018, neighbours Manus McGee and Pádraig Neylon recognised the potential for a modern, adults-only getaway immersed in nature. With adjoining fields offering stunning estuary and river views, they were excited to open up the Labasheeda Peninsula to visitors who want to explore off the beaten track.The families were passionate about providing luxury accommodation that’s also affordable and sustainable. The men put their heads together to source local craftsmen and design and build eight unique shepherd’s huts. The women brought the heart into the hut, decorating each to a high standard with comfort and care in every last detail.

Where We Are Today

Beds of Silk opened its doors in July 2019 with three luxury shepherd’s huts. The site has grown year-on-year with the addition of huts and development of premium, eco-conscious, accessible on-site facilities.
Today, Beds of Silk enjoys a five-star reputation as the perfect place to unwind, reconnect with nature and discover all the beautiful region has
to offer.

Shannon Estuary, County Clare, Ireland. #4

The Legend Behind
the Beds of Silk

According to legend, the sweet-sounding name of Labasheeda originated when a sea captain sought shelter in the estuary during a storm. This captain was so impressed by its calmness that he likened it to sleeping in “A bed of silk”. Coming from the Irish “Leaba Shíoda”, the word “leaba” means bed and “síoda” means silk. It was easy to settle on a name! “Beds of Silk” perfectly captures the essence of our luxury glamping.

Labysheedy (The Silken Bed)
by Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill

I’d make a bed for you
in Labysheedy
in the tall grass
under the wrestling trees
where your skin
would be silk upon silk
in the darkness
when the moths are coming down.
Skin which glistens
shining over your limbs
like milk being poured
from jugs at dinnertime;
your hair is a herd of goats
moving over rolling hills,
hills that have high cliffs
and two ravines.
And your damp lips
would be as sweet as sugar at evening and we walking
by the riverside
with honeyed breezes
blowing over the Shannon
and the fuschias bowing down to you
one by one. The fuschias bending low
their solemn heads in obeisance to the beauty
in front of them
I would pick a pair of flowers as pendant earrings
to adorn you
like a bride in shining clothes.
O I’d make a bed for you
in Labysheedy,
in the twilight hour
with evening falling slow
and what a pleasure it would be
to have our limbs entwine
wrestling
while the moths are coming down.