A gallop around Galway

 

Friday 17 May

Today we gave Clio a well-deserved rest and caught the bus into Galway city (a status granted by Richard III). 

We're a bit mystified by the buses - we've paid 3 different fares when it's supposed to be a flat rate, but being polite we didn't argue and suspect you pay more from 8pm having been forced to after waiting for a bus that never came and being assured by a man in the queue that the "coloured fellas" driving the taxis from the nearby rank would take us round the long way. Helpful announcements of the next stop are made in English and Gaelic (everything over here is in dual languages despite the fact that only about 6% of the population speak Gaelic having been taught it in school. Our walking tour guide said he spoke it but then couldn't translate a simple transcription on a statue when asked.) 

They're double deckers with central doors for alighting but it seems to be on the whim of the driver as to whether they'll open them or not. And although there's an inbound bus stop 2 minutes away opposite the entrance to Brookside Close, there's no matching one outbound so when returning from the city we have to get off earlier and then walk for the best part of 10 minutes. Hey ho.

We had a bit of a wander down the aptly-named Shop Street and I made the obligatory purchase of knitted accessories which I'll tuck away safely til winter when I get home and then accidentally come across them next February. We then met up with our walking tour party outside the Skeffington Arms in Eyre Square.

Our tour guide was Connor, a skinny and very animated actor with a passion for geology, which he thankfully spared us as it would have been wildly inappropriate on an urban tour. He gave us a number of useful tips alongside a whistlestop tour of the city's history. Following Viking occupation, Ireland was invaded by Normans in 1169 and Galway was captured by the Normans from the O'Connor tribe in 1234. Fourteen tribes/families eventually ruled the city and its trade, with a golden era around 1484 - their names are immortalised in banners around Eyre Square; Athy, Blake, Bodkin, Browne, D'Arcy, Deane, Fant, fFrench, Joyce, Kirwan, Lynch, Martyn, Morris and Skeritt. They made sure that Galway got city status and traded with wine as payment - fair play.

The families' influence was finally ended by the English Civil War when in 1652 Cromwell's forces took revenge from the Irish Catholic support of Charles I; starting with the Drogheda Massacre, the Roundhead forces sacked the city and replaced the ruling famiies with their own people. Further conflicts occurred with the Jacobite rebellions later that century and beyond, and Galway was unlucky enough to be crowned European City of Culture - in 2020.

Following our tour we had a light lunch at Freddy's, a casual Italian with some witty marketing

(of course - we also went by a pub called O' something or other near Lynch's window - supposedly the origin of the term "lynching" for an impromptu hanging - which proudly advertised its Irish Lasagne) and enjoyed some brilliant ice cream (Irish brown bread and Sea Salt Vanilla - absolutely gorgeous and a worthy substitute for gelato!). We wandered down to catch the 401 bus from the Spanish Arch to Salthill and had a bracing walk along the promenade, admiring the white sand that soon turns to large shingle And we enjoyed watching the brave souls (eventually, after much exhortation) jumping off the Black Rock diving board into the sea (the general expression on coming up being "Holy f***!")

Back into the city on the bus - there's not a huge amount to see in Salthill to be honest - it's over the bridge from Galway and is actually on the Claddagh side, now linked by said bridge but previously a separate village with thatched cottages now sadly all gone. We went to the museum near the Spanish Arch and took a look at the very detailed and very worthy history of the Irish conflict from centuries back through to the Easter Rising of 1916 and the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty - something that remained controversial and led to the Troubles with its unresolved issue of Catholic human and political rights in the north.

We then paid a visit to Tigh Nora (well it was early, but nearly Friday night), a bar with over 200 gins. Named after Nora Barnacle, the wife of James Joyce, the house gin was delightful and refreshing with its notes of rose petal, peach and grapefruit. So good, and Neil enjoyed another smooth pint of the black stuff.

After a bit more wandering, we ended up at Sheridan's Wine Bar for some delicious if pricey wine with a mixed cheese and meat board - why are there NEVER enough crackers? We then swung by M&S for some next day provisions and wine, then waited an inordinate amount of time for a bus back to Brookside. The TV yielded nothing more entertaining than The Chase, so we watched that, drank some wine and retired early, with over 18000 steps on the clock. Poor old legs.

Cal & Neily's Irish Adventure - the Wild Atlantic Way

 

Thursday 16 May

The morning dawned with sunshine and blue sky - hurrah! After a hearty full Irish breakfast at our fabulous, great value B&B,  Neily chilled out and I ventured forth for a little light shopping. Westport is a pretty town, with brightly-coloured Georgian buildings and a pleasing range of small shops as well as a tree-lined avenue. On my return we picked up the car and drove out to Westport Quay for a little boat trip out to Clew Bay.

 

There are apparently 365 islands in the bay, though many of those are just rocky outcrops (some of which are home to imported sheep grazing happily on the lush grass). Our Westport Cruise took us past Achill Island (where much of the Banshees of Innishiren was filmed), and scene of a disaster in the eigteenth century where a boat bound for Jamaica full of Irish slaves escaping the famine capsized and all on board were drowned.

Clew bay is beautiful in the sunshine and is home to seals and jellyfish. The southern coastline is dominated by the mountain Croagh Patirck (a place of pilgrimage for devotees of St Patrick). In the 17th century the population of the islands was around 2000, and they were covered in oak and hazel trees.

There's a Beatles connection - Inisraher was bought back in the 1960s by the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi as a centre for transcandental meditation. John Lennon then purchased the nearby Dornish islands (two linked by a granite causeway) in 1967, only to gift it to his friend Sid Rawle (later a founder of the Glastonbury Festival) in 1970. Rawle founded a hippy commune that lasted two years before being disbanded following a supply tent fire. Yoko Ono sold it after Lennon's death for £30k, which she then donated to a  local orphanage. Allegedly it's now worth around 2 million euro. 

One of the main islands is St Clare, which was home to the infamous female trader and pirate (known as the Pirate Queen of Ireland), Grace O'Malley, who met Elizabeth I to discuss (in Latin) her ill treatment at the hands of English settlers and won a number of concessions. I bought a book about her - it's high time someone made a biopic, as not only was she probably Ireland's first feminist, she spoke several languages, had at least 4 children, led armies of men (including those of her late and ex husbands) in undertaking her exploits, and lived to the ripe old age of 73, cashing in her chips in 1603, the same year as Lizzie the first.

After disembarking from our lovely trip and paying a visit to said Tertulia bookshop (run by a chap from Battersea, who moved to Westport after working on the movie Saving Private Ryan), we ate a sandwich at a picnic bench in the sunshine (surrounded by crows, who were no more sinister than the locals) and got back into the car to take the scenic route to Galway via the Aasleagh Falls and Leenane.

It was so beautiful with glorious weather - and then we hit Galway, an unexpectedly busy modern metropolis, and very heavy traffic. We were clueless about how big the city is and its rush hour was just like anywhere else!

After arriving at our accommodation - which is a stupidly expensive B&B that's just like living in Brookside Close among myriad other B&Bs in a large huddle of substantial 1980s houses AND we have to share a room - we found our way into the city by bus, had a Guinness and a gin at 13 on the Green (another friendly welcome), then finished up with an excellent dinner at McSwiggins, a restaurant of Tardis-like proportions and which we highly recommend, before finding our way back again on the bus. A guided city walk is scheduled for the morrow.

 

Cal & Neily's Irish Adventure - north to south

 From North to South, via the West and the Wild Atlantic Way

Sunday 12 May 2024

Back in April 2023, my dear friend Neil Clarke and I sat outside of a Madrid bar and agreed that a holiday we'd like to take would be a road trip around Ireland. A year or so later, after much planning and poring over of maps and booking.com, we set off on Neil's birthday for Liverpool to get the ferry to Belfast to embark upon our Irish adventure. Waterproof trousers and walking boots packed in the boot of my Clio, having of course looked ahead at the forecast, we set off from south London on the hottest day of the year so far for the first leg of our journey.

After a relatively stress-free Sunday drive, Liverpool was busy. Having been misled by my somewhat out of date satnav, we parked in the St John's Centre and headed for the Albert Dock along with a substantial proportion of the city's population, every man jack of them walking at a pace half that of a couple of day trippers (see what I did then?) with limited time to spare. 

We visited the temporary Tate (really, don't bother!), the Western Approaches museum (if you like Churchill's War Rooms, this is right up your alley - like CWR, they locked up of the nerve centre for Allied supply ships on VE day, manned mainly by WRENs, and let it moulder for many years), and wandered along what should be named Cavern or Beatles Street - delightfully tacky.

After much meandering and some tea and cake, we headed to meet my old uni friend Chris Barker at Mc Guffy's bar followed by a pizza at Rudi's. We then ventured out into the pouring rain back to the car in order to navigate our way to Birkenhead and our ferry. The lashing-down rain did not ease the stress we experienced on arriving at the Wallasey tunnel toll only to find that there's NOWHERE to tap your card or insert coins in ordre to pass - so the barrier stayed firmly down as I reversed back and pissed off everyone waiting behind the Merseyside toll booth amateur. Thankfully having hit the Help button, a nice man appeared with a card reader and we continue on our way without incident, and after quite a long wait, boarded the Stena line ferry, dumped our bags in our clean but very compact cabin, necked most of a bottle of red ("it'll help me sleep") and settled down for what was thankfully a calm crossing to Belfast, arriving bang on time at 6.30am and finding ourselves second off the boat and only 10 minutes from the city centre.

Monday 13 May

We parked up on what appeared to be a piece of waste ground on Donegal Street (but it was on the Ringo app, so I knew it should be ok!) and wandered around the immediate environs for about an hour before heading for the very right-on Neighbourhood Cafe for breakfast, where we met our friend Mark McIntosh who happened to be in the city on his way back from a short holiday in Corfu. My epic fail was to leave my showerproof Uniqlo jacket on the coat peg next to my front door in my rush to leave the house the previous day, so this necessitated a hasty purchase in favour of something rather more substantial than my flimsy cagoule. We sat for a while in the City Hall gardens before saying goodbye to Mark and saying hello to our cab tour driver Gary, who then took us on a personalised tour of the areas, murals and somewhat distressing memorials either side of the Peace Wall - though we soon realised that while he appeared to be quite non-partisan, his bias and take on the history of the city (unconscious or not) was definitely Unionist - something redressed when we visited Derry the next day.

We went to a chici cafe in the lovely Avoca store for lunch and then picked up the car to head off to the Giant's Causeway. By this time it was chucking it down with rain and it didn't stop all the way - unfortunately we also went a roundabout way so it took us a bit longer than expected. The GC was a place I'd always wanted to visit and despite the filthy weather, it didn't disappoint. It's like being on a different planet - we clambered about for a while on what looks like several packs of giant black cigarettes - mind was blown. 

18000 steps later, we arrived at Violet House in Derry, a compact little terraced house which made use of every nook and cranny. It was really well equipped, clean and comfortable, so kind of a shame we were only there for the night. We drove to Sainsbury's to stock up on provisions for dinner and breakfast, and had an early night after a dismal failure to get the TV working....

Tuesday 14 May

Still raining... we drove into Derry, parked up and took a stroll on the Peace Bridge

followed by a wander round the lovely Guildhall with its beautiful polished wood and stained glass, and its tribute to John Hume, the Northern Irish Nobel Peace Prize winner.

We came across the Derry Girls mural (had to be done) and later on went to the Derry Girls Experience at the Tower Museum - where I bought my first fridge magnet of the trip, and yes it's of the DGs. 

After coffee at the highly-recommended Synge & Byrne, we trudged around the city wall to go and see the Bogside Murals. Northern Irish history proves the economic and social injustices done to the Catholic population by Protestant settlers supported by the British crown - obviously the situation is complex, but the anger and bitterness of the Bogsiders is painfully palpable in these murals and our subsequent visit to the Free Derry museum, with its focus on Bloody Sunday left me with a lump in my throat at what those campaigning for justice for the innocent suffered.

 

A less harrowing visit to the Tower Museum to learn more about the history of Derry followed, then lunch back at Synge & Byrne. We looked into Dunnes Stores in the hope of seeing an interesting department store - it's like Primark, really don't bother if you come across one - you won't find anything to inspire you. We consoled ourselves with a gelato and then picked up the car to drive to Donegal - at last the rain had stopped.

At some point we crossed the border into the south - it was really only evident by a change in the road signs to km and this threw me into a bit of a panic as of course my speedo shows mph so I needed to get Neil to check a conversion chart to make sure I wasn't speeding! Apparently there's a way to convert my dashboard to km but we couldn't get it to work.

We arrived in Donegal town around 5pm and were greeted at our very basic and somewhat shabby accommodation by a very thin bald man who was very vague (he seemed surprised that we'd arrived!) but also twinkly and completely absent during breakfast and when we checked out next day. The rooms were clean and comfortable but very low on creature comforts and were probably last refurbished at some point in the 90s, with pillows of a similar age. I had a nice view of the River Eske from my room, 

and I slept well after a substantial dinner at the Olde Castle Bar pub. There's not a huge amount to see and do in Donegal, but it's a good stop off point - and the people (and drivers) are very friendly!

Wednesday 15 May

So nice to be greeted by sunshine on waking. After breakfast we packed up the car (which has been giving me grief over its automatic locking and its refusal to change the speedo from mph to kph) and had a wander round the town and some of the shops, many of which sell tasteful tweedy merchandise and beautiful chunky knits to which I'm very drawn but my sensible side tells me will always be too warm for a London winter. Less chi-chi shops contain leprechaun, clover leaf and green-hued souvenirs and mementoes, many of which featuring Father Jack expletives exhorting me to Feck Off Ya Eejit and proudly proclaiming the owner as a Gobshite. I like. 

After the purchase of a tacky kitty purse printed with a photo of....kitties - we strolled to the very small castle built and lost by Red Hugh O'Donnell - another Catholic victim of English Protestant colonisation who eventually fled to Spain for the remainder of his life. There's not much of it left but it's been sympathetically restored and is part ruin and part manor house and at only a few euros to visit is worth a look.

We wandered down to the quay with a coffee, saw a cormorant stretching its wings while perched on a buoy, then got in the car to drive to Sligo en route for our next overnight in Westport, Co Mayo. We spent a pleasant few hours dodging the showers - the cathedral is rather lovely with a plain interior and vaulted ceilings and notable stained glass (most of them purchased in memory of deceased parishoners). There's also a 12 stages of the cross series of wood carvings in relief placed around the perimeter, something I hadn't seen before. 

WB Yeats is the big cheese in Sligo - unfortunately the little exhibit in an Arts & Crafts house where we could have found out more wasn't open, but we did see some lovely art there and also at The Model, an arts centre on The Mall, where we discovered the very fine Expressionitic work of his brother Jack Butler Yeats.

 We also saw some thought-provoking video installations by Marianne Keating, drawing parallels between Ireland and Jamaica (we were reminded of the fact that thousands of Irish people became indentured plantation slaves in a wretched bid to escape poverty and famine in Ireland during the 19th century) and highlighting the struggle of the women's movement fighting for reproductive rights. 

On a more trivial note, lots of lovely old shop fronts in Sligo. It's a pretty little town and was well worth the stopover.

We drove out of Sligo heading for Westport - drivers here seem to be very patient when you get in the wrong lane and reckless speeding doesn't seem to be an issue even when stuck behind a tractor - and we arrived at Clooneen House in the centre of town. Great value for money B&B, with friendly greetings repeated later that evening when we had a gin and a Guiness at the bar of the charming Grain Store pub, and a great fishy dinner at Sol Rio, both on the charming Bridge Street. Gorgeous little town.