Thursday 10/10/24
Bright and sunny here in Galway as I make a start on the next bit of our story. They are threatening cold and wet so pleased that it holds off again for a while.
We leave our Lodge near Fermoy and head for Galway via Limerick and Bunratty Castle. The castle is on Beth’s ‘to do’ list because of the re-enactment village there. We have the navigation set to avoid tolls, so we take the much slower but more scenic tracks.
We travel (according to Ruth’s notes) via Mitchelstown to Limerick. It’s more open flatter country with wider roads and rolling hills. One thing we notice along the way are the not so infrequent stone grottos along the road with statues to the Virgin Mary - Catholicism is out on display. We see wind farms on the distant ranges and get a bit confused when we come across lots of signs for ‘hospital’ - confusion abated when we realise the town we’re driving through is called “Hospital”.
We go through Limerick cross the River Shannon past a big grey hospital and huge grim looking goal - a big town is Limerick.
Bunratty Castle & Folk Park Again amazing what an amazing budget can do.
There was a guide here in this thatched cottage who gave us wonderful stories about lots of things. Peat and peat fires, thatching and fires, the English and several Irish questions. The original stone cottages in the Bunratty Castle grounds have all been relocated to the site - they’re not replicas.
Again a blacksmith guide with wonderful stories to tell and some demonstrations. One that I took note of is that they always kept their workshop dark to better see the glow of the work. It is much easier to see the glow without too much light.
In 1956, the castle was purchased and restored by the 7th Viscount Gort, with assistance from the Office of Public Works.[6] He reroofed the castle and saved it from ruin. The castle was opened to the public in 1960, with supporting furniture, tapestries and works of art dating to around the 1600's.[3][6]
The climb to the battlements is up an extremely tight spiral staircase and further than you would guess. So much so that I came up with cramps in the leg doing all the work. I had to very deliberately work both legs or I could have got stuck. Somehow you went up and down the stairs often to access the different rooms. Apart from the big communal halls the place was very tight and many of the rooms very small. No wonder it was not an easy place to live.
They have created an entire contemporary village with buildings relocated or built in the style. Again, amazing what can be done with evidently an excellent budget. Not that they miss you at the gate. I would say that they are doing OK.
They have employed some very knowledgeable staff to work in the re-enactments - there’s the young woman making dough balls on the peat fire (after churning some butter), a couple of post office workers desperate for a chat and keen to know where we hail from (one claimed to know of a Durack working on a local community radio station); and a fiddler who plays merry jigs non-stop - his fingers must get very sore.
At our lunch stop in Ennis (after the Bunratty Castle tour) I accost a gentleman in the pub to enquire about knowing a Seamus Durack - we had been told this was how you found out the whereabouts of the famous hurler and vague cousin. He informs me that he wouldn’t know him as he is French and the chef at a rival pub a few doors up the road. Evidently he’s a good mate of our publican and soon we have him googling Seamus and the video of him missing the goal that loses the county championship (we think). He thinks he lives in a village called Feakle but we get no close leads.
We leave Ennis and head for the Cliffs of Moher.
Again they must have had a spectacular budget when they set this place up. All the buildings are set in underground to not spoil the view and the miles of pathways along the cliffs are lined with enormous slabs of slate.
There is a stone tower - O’Brien’s Tower - which he built apparently to entertain his mates and to give excellent views across the cliffs. More spiral staircases to negotiate.
After hiking up and down and admiring the fabulous views in a very strong wind we hit the road for Galway. It doesn’t look far on the map but the roads are very slow - very narrow and windy and it’s hard to get anywhere near the suggested speed limit!
We travel through some strange bare hills near the Corkscrew Hills, quite a change after the verdant green countryside we’d been seeing throughout Ireland. There is a saying attributed to an army officer attached to Oliver Cromwell’s campaign of persecution in Ireland is 1649 - ‘not a tree high enough to hang a man, water to drown a man, or earth to bury him’! You get the idea - it’s pretty desolate! Sentiments could be used to describe much of Australia perhaps?
It’s dark by the time we arrive outside our apartment block in Galway and Beth passes a serious test of codes and hidden keys to get us in. Sadly, no pretty girl or character to greet us at reception. Secret codes to pass the first gate, a veritable maze of fire doors to get to the lock box to get the magic token to let us get into the secure underground carpark, which turns out to be the tightest I have been in - took about 4 tries to manoeuvre but finally the car is safely parked. Beth did well in her selection on AirBnb. The place is spacious and warm - actually hot despite fiddling with various buttons to lower the thermostat. We Queenslanders resort to opening a few doors and windows to drop the temperature and let in some fresh air. The apartment is in a great location. We are on a narrow point overlooking the various canals and water sources of the old mill. The vigorous streams give nice river flow background noise. I’m not sure how the water works ‘work’ - there must be a weir on the main river and a number of channels emanating off it - there’s water and bridges everywhere.
Friday 11/10/24
Up early to try to catch up with the story. Despite what people have said about Galway’s weather always being windy and wet we wake up to bright sunshine!
We are amused to see two blokes getting weeds out of the gutters on the building opposite. Not sure our HS&E people would approve.
This is why you don’t swim over weirs — you get stuck. Not sure how long the beer barrel was in there but it had washed away when we came back later.
We walk along a wharf called “Nimmo’s Pier” which a Scottish engineer called Alexander Nimmo built in 1822, amongst many other piers, wharfs and bridges in a 10-year period in the west of Ireland. Ruth’s mother’s people are Nimmos from north Queensland. We’re not sure if he is a relative but we’ll claim him anyway. He comes from the right part of Scotland and bears the family name “Alexander”.
Surprisingly few boats in the Claddagh and loch down near the bay and those that are here are pretty neglected for the most part. We see some masts from another marina in a more industrial part of town but I would guess only a dozen or so. Far cry from the marinas in Fremantle with possibly thousands of boats in them.
It’s a beautiful view from the end of the pier across Galway Bay but the ambience is a bit spoiled by the noise of unloading scrap metal onto the biggest pile I have seen. The excavator can be seen in the centre of the photo.
We watch a big golden retriever having a swim below this point. It must have been a strong swimmer as the tide was running apace. He made it to the stone stairs and climbed up. His owner warned us to keep clear as he would shake the water off which he did vigorously, before rolling in the grass and then trotting off very pleased with himself - a regular visitor evidently.
Then we’re off to the Galway Museum. The museum is very modern and done with a pretty good budget. There’s lots of history from the bronze ages with artifacts (a beautiful set of tweezers just like you see today), handcrafted silver ware from the 1600s (Galway apparently famous for the quality of its silversmiths), and a big section allocated the various struggles for Irish home rule.
There is a Nimmos restaurant opposite the museum and Beth joins Ruth and I for tea and cake (delicious apple and blackcurrant pie according to Ruth). It’s run by a group called Ard Bia - a fairly upmarket place with a good looking menu but no time to stop for a proper meal.
We re-group and take a stroll along the Claddagh shores on sunset to look over the famous Galway Bay
They like to be pretty clear about their rules here in Galway. There was a similar one on the wharf about what would befall you were you to be in control of or in any other way associated with a jet ski or other similar craft.
After dinner at an Indian restaurant (good food and very attentive service - they’re not busy) we head home after a long day. Ruth settles into the lounging yellow armchair at the window with whisky in hand to watch the passers-by from our window. As the evening draws on and the night life ramps up and she’s amused to see beautiful young things going past with bare legs and arms - skimpy outfits you’d expect to see in the height of summer in Queensland. They must be tough as for us it’s freezing out there. Beth explains that nothing must spoil the outfit - no matter how cold it is! It turns out we really don’t need to leave the comfort of our apartment to enjoy the pub scene as we can clearly hear the music from Taylors Bar just across the canal - some modern and some more traditional Irish tunes that everyone sings with gusto!
Today Friday 11/10/24
Today’s plan is to tour around the Connemara.
Another bright and sunny day as we head for the region of Connemara as recommended by our neighbour in Brisbane, Dermot Ryder, who hails from this area. Initially we’re on a major road so we make good time driving past pretty rolling countryside with loughs (lakes) with high mountains to the northwest. We are possibly a bit early for the best of the autumn colours but the leaves are starting to change. We fill up with diesel - our first top up since picking up the hire car. Fortunately the VW goes a fair way on a tank as the fuel is expensive here like most things.
We stop for a coffee and scone in Oughterard. A very cheerful and talkative older gentleman barrister behind the counter with a fantastic accent. He admits he sometimes gets his cinnamon and chocolate mixed up on a cappuccino. It’s not a bad coffee but possibly not the world’s best either.
Fuchsias grow wild along the roadside, sometimes in extravagant bloom. Frustrating for Queensland gardeners who struggle to keep them going!
We turn onto the Western Way at Maan Cross. The wide fast road has petered out and we are on a designated 80km speed limit road, but they have to be kidding as we mostly do 50 or 60 tops, and sometimes need to come to a full stop to yield for traffic where it is just too narrow for two vehicles to pass. No signage of these spots just to make it more interesting.
Killary has for centuries been known as a fjord[4][5][2] - "the only fjord in Ireland"[6] or sometimes "one of 2–4 fjord-type inlets" on the island.[7]
After a few minutes misty rain rolls in, so we make for the Old Forge gift shoppe in Leenaun to keep dry. It’s a successful stop as the quest to find the perfect gift for brother Russel is realised. Ever since visiting the Guinness brewery in Dublin Ruth has been looking for a t-shirt or gimmicky thing that shows the old company advertising sign of a pelican holding several bottles of guinness in its beak. To date we have been unsuccessful but then Beth spies a small “handmade” ornament of the very thing. It’s truly ugly and crass but will fit in well with Russel’s existing pelican collection at Gracemere. It will be revealed as a Christmas gift! The lady in the shop wraps it with exaggerated care and packs it in a box. We discuss the apparently spectacular Aurora Borealis lights that have been seen locally. She didn’t actually see it herself but someone’s posted pictures on the locals FB page, including one photograph of a proud fox standing on a bridge, possibly howling at the spectacular lights all around. The lights are best seen after 11pm apparently so no wonder the fox was out and about. The Guinness pelican will probably survive the end of the world - such ugly things often do.
There is definitely something strange going on with the lights and solar flares. By all accounts they have been seen as far north in Australia as northern New South Wales and I think southern Queensland. This is very unusual.
Heading south towards Kylemore Abbey we pass extensive oyster beds in the fjord beside us and later see them marketed as the area’s famous Killary oysters. The rain sets in and the mountains are shrouded in cloud and suddenly again with no signage we are in unfenced country with sheep wandering the narrow roads. We spot the classic man with a dog in the paddock moving sheep. The dog must have been in training though as it was on a lead.
We arrive at Kylemore Abbey and immediately we’re into peak tourist mode. More than a dozen coaches are pulled up and many cars are in the carpark. I notice that these ‘tourist’ places with a clearly adequate budget can handle these huge crowds without it being too scary. It helps that the place is huge with the Abbey, the small Gothic-style church and a big walled Victorian garden are housed in extensive grounds. We did not feel at all overrun.
I recommend the link above but briefly a fellow called Mitchell Henry and his bride Margaret came on their honeymoon to this area is the mid 1849 and fell in love with the Connemarra area and the Kylemore Lough. He came into an inheritance a few years later and decided to buy the existing hunting lodge on the lough and transform it into a grand castle for his beloved wife and they moved in 1871. All was going well until they decided to take a trip to Egypt in 1874 where she tragically died of dysentery. Her body was brought back to Kylemore and Henry built a “small” church modelled on a grand cathedral in her memory. The family continued to live at Kylemore Castle as it was known until the early 1900s when it was bought by the Duke of Manchester and his rich American wife. By all accounts he had to call on his father-in-law’s help (a rich oil and rail barron) to get him out of his many financial scrapes. It was subsequently sold in 1913 to a property speculator before being eventually sold (in 1920) to an order of Benedictine nuns who had moved to Ireland from the Netherlands during World War 1. They have been here ever since and the name changed from “castle’ to “abbey”. For several decades they operated a girls boarding school here but that closed some time ago. The nuns have obviously been pretty business savvy utilising the tourist dollar and are able to maintain the estate and are also in the process of building a new ‘monastery’ area to house religious conferences and ‘retreat accommodation’.
The main building is open for tourists and several rooms have been styled in the manner of the grand ‘castle’ times, and they give some history of the owners through the ages and the works of the Benedictine order.
It is a space for peaceful contemplation with stunning views. It’s good to see members of religious orders walking through the throngs of tourists.
The curious thing about Mary’s grottos is that there evidently wasn’t much budget for the stonework. Check this one out.
We then head further south for Clifden, the capital of Connemara, driving past some stacks of peat stacked up. We drive past the entrance to the national park and think for just a moment we should get out and hike a bit, but we’re hungry and want lunch.
We make for Griffin’s Bar for a late lunch.
Just as well we are late as the publican tells us that he has been “hammered” since 12:00 - ‘crazy busy’ not so much with tourists but locals in town for market day. “Could have been summer”, he says, “had to turn people away”. It’s mostly locals in his pub and we have a good feed. An old bloke comes in, obviously a local, with the shakes pretty bad. He’s coming in for his ‘tea’ and as we leave he is tucking into a huge plate of fish and chips, with the ketchup packets opened up for him by the barmaid. They clearly look after him.
We wander past a glass gift shop (Connemara Blue) and are taken in by the simple but beautiful things hanging in the window. The lady there is out the back working with glass. We look around for a while and Beth and Ruth are taken by some of the pieces and make a selection. While we are looking an older American gentleman comes in and clears the shelves of, well, legally distinct “Shaun the Sheep” pieces. The question of where you come from comes up and we admit Australia. The gentleman explains that he visited Sydney and Melbourne when returning from Vietnam. He explained that he landed in Sydney with thousands of his fellow servicemen, so he went straight to Melbourne to get away from them all. A cheerful chap doubtless with stories to tell who was obviously very pleased to be heading home with ‘his own flock of sheep’.
Ruth and Beth each made a small selection which were meticulously wrapped along with a complimentary extra piece for each of them.
The Connemara Blue story is there in the link but apparently Mum, Dad and at least one of the twin daughters have a workshop in town where they make the stuff with raw materials coming all the way from Oregon.
We head down along the coastline, back on very narrow bumpy and narrow roads and then through what appears to be a bog area with no trees and a rocky desolate outlook. Sheep are roaming freely.
We come to Dogs Bay Beach, as recommended by the lady in the visitor’s bureau, with its startling white sand. We are in granite country which seems to makes good beaches. Curiously a reasonably modern home by the beach has been abandoned with broken windows etc. We wonder what its story might have been.
We make for the car park and stop for a chat with a couple having a drink beside their campervan. They are from London and have come across on the ferry to visit the lady’s brother. She is from London and he is from South Africa and they’re travelling with their German short-haired pointer. We ask how it goes travelling in the van. They say ‘no problem’ but evidently they aren’t put off by a few signs that say ‘no overnight parking’. They’re not alone as several others have the same idea and the carpark has about 4 vans pulled up.
We head home through flowering heather and gorse and more hedgerows with wild fuchsias. We’re finally off the narrow roads and hit 100km back into Galway.
Ruth heads out to find a pizza to go with the left-over curry. Comes back with excellent pizza but keen to explore some of the music she heard from various pubs. I’m a bit slack and stay in but Ruth and Beth head out to rage. No luck at The Crane - the private music session upstairs is booked out. Then to Taylors Bar across the canal but the live band is just packing up for the night. Not deterred they wind up at the Quays Bar in the Latin quarter where a solo guitarist and singer called Nate was performing. They came back “charged”, whether from the music or the whiskey I am not sure. They say the bar was packed and the crowd enthusiastically singing along.
Eggs on toast for breakfast and we’re off to Belfast.
The weather seems extremely un-Irish!
Enjoyed reading this and seeing all the photos with their captions. Thank you for including us in your blog. I'm glad you had a good experience in Clifden and great food at Griffin's! You've seen more of Ireland than I have!