STAGES 84-85: Casla (Costello) to Galway City 

The darling buds of May light up Connemara

With Donald Smith who joined me on the Sunday

            Stage 84

Co. Galway: Casla (Costello) to Spiddal

            Saturday 27 May 2023

         33.58km or 20.87miles

Sticking to the coast all the way

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May’

This is the first time I’ve quoted Shakespeare on my blog. I love that phrase ‘the darling buds of May’. I was thinking of it as I ran along the beautiful Co. Galway coast with all those wild flowers blooming in the May sunshine. I’m sad to say that my long love affair with Connemara is coming to an end this weekend as I arrive in Galway City. On the other hand I am excited to finally reach my native town. It's been a long journey so far. Once again we drove down from Co. Down on the Friday night and stayed in Oranmore with my sister-in-law, Aideen & her husband Kieran Hurley. The Hurleys also welcomed a friend of mine from Bangor, Donald Smith who happened to be in the west of Ireland. Donald was competing in the tough Burren Marathon on the Saturday and is joining me for tomorrows run. 

I park my car at the petrol station in Casla (or Costello as it was previously called.) As usual I leave a spare Clifton Coastal shirt in my car just in case anybody is wondering why it’s parked there all day. It’s 8.05am and I run along the R336, the Furnace Road. At the small crossroads I take a right turn on the R372 as far as the quays at Rossaveel.

The harbour at Rossaveel

Ros an Mhil (Rossaveel) literally means ‘wood of the whale (or sea monster)’ so now I might have to contend with enormous sea creatures. In fact, as recent as May 2021, there was a huge jellyfish caught here in Rossaveel. It was so rare that we don’t even have an English (or Irish) word for it, just a scientific name, Thalassobathia pelagica. It likes to keep the company of a monster jellyfish known as ‘Stygiomedusa gigantea'. Perhaps I shouldn’t run too close to the shore today!

Wind Turbine at Rossaveel - see size of houses compared to it

The whole harbour has been redeveloped and the government have said that Rossaveel’s proximity to offshore projects and a deep-sea berth would provide an opportunity to take advantage of the wind industry. They have invested 25 million euro in the project. The ‘elephant in the room’ here is the massive Wind Turbine which dominates the skyline for miles around. Rossaveel is also the main port for connecting to the Aran Islands. Having said all that, it is still very quiet at this time of the morning.

Martello Tower: So near but so hard to reach

I decide to stay by the coast and rough it through rocks and fields. It’s not a pleasant experience as I trample through gorse and thorn bushes and climb over a few electric fences. I can see the Martello Tower in the distance but it’s not that easy to get to. Finally, I do reach the tower. The writer, Tim Robinson describes it as ‘’just standing there like a giant’s chess piece ready to make it move.’’ He has got a point. It does look like a large pawn in a game of chess. 

Martello Tower

I didn't try to climb into the tower - I might have dropped in

There were similar structures built all around Ireland in the early 1800’s. These type of towers were strategically placed to stop a French invasion by Napoleon’s army. That doesn't surprise me as it was only a few years before in 1798 that General Humbert arrived in north Mayo. (as I referred to back in Stage 47). Humbert’s small army caused a lot of damage and embarrassment for the British establishment in Connacht. Today, the Martello Tower looks neglected. However, as I referred to in a previous blog, Russian Ships have been spotted in Irish water, so maybe we should reinstate these look-outs towers!

Looking across to Tra na Reilig where I was earlier this month

Leaving the tower, I continue south and rough it along the coast to the bottom of the Rossaveel hill, literally called, Toin an Chnoic. There is even a style to climb over which gives me some encouragement that there might be some kind of path ahead. 

Always encouraging to see a style - but the only one I saw today

There is no path ahead but I run to the bottom of the peninsula and start to look out for a trail that will take me north again. However, there are cows here that give me darting looks so I circle around the peninsula and eventually I do join the boreen. 

The old Martello Tower (early 1800's) and new Wind Turbine (early 2000's)

The hated Blakes

Tim Robinson writes about how ‘the Blakes emptied the townland of Toin an Chnoic across the bay to an even more barren bog of ‘Baile an tSleibhe’, the settlement of the mountain’. It was all part of the Blakes tidying up or clearing plan so that they could build their fortress, Cashel House on the shore a few miles further east at Tully, near Connemara Airport. 

Boreen north from Toin an Chnoic

I should admit to a family connection as my great, great, grandmother was Bridget Blake. I had always been quite proud of the fact, that I was related to one of fourteen tribes of Galway. I even know all the tribes, off by heart, Athy, Blake, Bodkin etc. However, in this part of Co. Galway my ancestors were referred to as ‘the hated Blakes’. Robinson explains this further ‘’adding insult to injury, the Blakes supported the Irish Church Mission in its efforts to convert their tenants to Protestantism. The converts were given cash for attending services. Having got their sixpence from the Protestants, they would go straight to the Catholic chapel for Mass and contribute a penny, thus making a profit of five pence’’.  

Georgie, Brid's cat

I proceed on the trail, loop around a narrow channel and follow a coastal road south. I think this area is the Baile an tSleibhe referred to above. It’s turning out to be a warm and sunny day. I’m beginning to feel very thirsty and I’m trying to save my gels for later. I spot a lady in her front garden and ask her for a drink. Her name is Brid and she kindly gets me a big glass of water. We have a lovely chat in the morning sunshine as Georgie, her cat hides in the long grass.

Sli Connemara

l say slán to Brid and Georgie and at the T junction take a left and then right, signposted ‘Sli Connemara’, heading further south all the way to the shore. I’m lucky I did get that glass of water because I stay by the shore for the rest of the day and don't pass any more houses.

Another encouraging sign to see

Sli Connemara: I read that this trail is ‘a 220km way-marked route that begins in Galway City and winds its way out to Connemara’. This is encouraging but I take this statement with a pinch of salt. It then says under ‘advisory’ that the route is not maintained, and maps are now obsolete. I think it was just another project that was too ambitious for a small country like ours. Still, it is promising to see this type of sign. I’d settle for a few more stiles to help me on my way. This whole area by the coast is known as ‘Cois Fharraige’.

Dr. Noel Browne

Passing the graveyard, Reilig Mhairois, I’m able to stay by the coast and decide to keep south of the lake, Lough na Creibhinne (or Lough Nagravin). The cemetery and the lake remind me of Noel Browne who was Minister for Health in the 1950's. He lived and retired to this area. Dr. Browne was ahead of his time - too far ahead of his time for the Catholic Church and for some of the medical profession. As a young Health Minister he eradicated tuberculosis (TB) and tried to bring in a National Health Service to Ireland. Even when he retired here in south Connemara in the 1970's he helped the local community. He encouraged a neighbour to fish in Lough na Creibhinne, which under an old system of private ownership, was forbidden. Noel Brown was a true socialist and fought for the less privileged all through his life. Dr Browne’s mother and sister had been buried in a pauper’s grave, both lost to tuberculosis. Brown just wanted “to have an ordinary stone off a wall” as a burial marker.  

Reilig Mhaoirois

Sli Connemara - sometimes good for running

At Bhaile na nAbhann (townland on the river) I have to briefly move inland but I’m still able to run on a boreen close to the shore and then re-join the coast. Near Indreabhan (Inveran) I spot two planes heading out to the Aran Islands. I have just passed Connemara Airport. It would be a perfect day to fly over to the islands.

Previous coastal runner?

Baile na hAbhainn Pier

But too wide to jump across

I’m surprised how easy this part of the coastline is to manoeuvre. However, after a  while I found the rocky terrain, although flat, a bit sore to run on. The hard surface would not be recommended if you were suffering from a dose of plantar fasciitis! However, a good pair of sturdy mountain boots would have made it a very pleasant walk. Still, there were also some grassy and trail sections which were perfect for the runner.

Even though it is close to high tide now, I’m still able to cross a short footbridge over a river at Poll na Mioltog

Crossing river at Poll na Mioltog

Memorial for 'the unbaptised'

I pass what was once a cemetery for the unbaptised, usually new-born babies. I’ve referred to these Cillineachs a few times in my blog and called it a kind of warped morality in not letting the unbaptised be buried in a proper graveyard. Today there is a monument on the shore trying to redress some of the past ideology.  

Graveyard for 'the unbaptised' with new memorial

And not far away, along the shore I come across another memorial

Lochan Beag – Sea Mine Explosion

A WorldWar1 mine exploded here on 15 June 1917. Hard to believe that any of the great wars came so close to Galway. When the landmine was first spotted on the beach, local people didn’t understand what it was. Some men tried to tow it in to shore and when they realised that it might be dangerous, it was too late. It exploded, killing nine men. Afterwards, the British government insisted that ‘none of their mines laid in or near Galway Bay’.  The inquest was held the very next day in Thigh Mhaimí Costello, now An Poitín Stil. Quickly a decision was reached and concluded that it was a German landmine. However, some argued that the prompt judgement taken, was to emphasise that there would be no compensation available from the then British government.

Memorial for nine men who lost lives in 1917 Landmine

Beach where landmine was pulled ashore

I look around and can’t help thinking that this place looks exactly as it did in 1917. Nothing has changed, except it's high tide now. What a shock it must have been to those poor men and their families.

I continue following the coast. There are lots of small beaches along here. Even ‘An Tra Mor’ isn’t that big despite its name. Although it is a beautiful day, there aren’t too many people around.

Hard stones for the runner's feet

The coastline gets uneven and rougher from now on. I cross another stream by way of a slippery causeway. However, I am getting close to my finish line. I know there is a bus at 13.41 from Spiddal to Casla (where I left my car). If I miss that, I would have to wait ninety minutes for the next one. I push on and when I finally reach the pier at Spiddal, I sprint up the hill and get to the town just before the bus arrives. Luckily I’ve saved my last gel for the trip back to Carna. When I get on the bus, I offer payment to the driver, but he says, ‘Were you the man I saw running at 8 o clock in Carna’. He nods me in for a free bus journey. It’s a pleasant ending to a hard-working day. 

                                                  Stage 85

                    Co. Galway: An Spideal  to Salthill

                                    Sunday 28 May 2023:

                                     20.82km or 12.94miles

Too rough to run along coast until Furbo. After that, it was just about achievable

I have a friend, Donald Smith (who also lives in Bangor, Co. Down) joining me today. It's the first time anyone has run with me since arriving in Co. Galway in Easter 2022. Donald, the flying Scotsman, had just completed a tough marathon in Co. Clare yesterday and so joined me for this stretch into Galway City. We take two cars out to Salthill, leave one in Blackrock and I drive out to Spiddal. Even though I grew up in Galway city, I never realised, until now, that the name An Spideal derives from the word ospideal (hospital). Hospital facilities were based in the area and there was a famine hospital here in the 1840’s.

Starting run from pier at Spiddal

Great to have Donald join me today

It's not as warm this morning but perfect weather for running. Donald and I start at the pier and loop around the coast to the main beach. We pass a statue here commemorating Martin O’Cadhain, the writer from Spiddal.

With Martin O' Cadhain

Martin O’Cadhain (1905-70) and the Irish Language

He dedicated his life to safeguarding the Irish language and said.. “Ní tárrtháilfear an Ghaeilge gan an Ghaeltacht a thárrtháil, agus ní tárrtháilfear an Ghaeltacht gan an talamh.” (Irish won’t be saved without the Gaeltacht being saved, and the Gaeltacht won’t be saved without the land)

The number of Irish speakers decreased dramatically after the Great Famine of the 1840s when the language became associated with backwardness, poverty, and despair. There were still four million speakers of Irish on the eve of the famine in 1841, but by 1891 the figure had fallen to 680,000. Accelerating the decline was the fact that large numbers of Irish-speaking parents — believing that the language would hold back their children, who would mostly have to emigrate to America, Britain, or Australia — ceased speaking to their children in Irish.

On Spiddal Pier: John Ford, second left and John Wayne, second right

Also, in Spiddal during the making of the Quiet Man in 1951, John Wayne helped to dunk in the sea, the director, John Ford. It was a way of congratulating Ford who had just been rewarded as an honorary Rear Admiral in the US Navy. 

Donald Smith: The flower of Scotland!

From the main beach at An Spideal, Donald and I realised that it would have been too hazardous to stay by the shore, so we run along the main road as far as Na Forbacha (Furbo) and then we rejoin the coast. It’s still only 8.30am and quiet on a Sunday morning.

Saying goodbye to Connemara

The terrain along here is tricky. Sometimes there is the odd trail but mostly it’s an uneven, rocky section that’s impossible to run on. We meet a few kids along here who are very curious about what we’re doing. I tell them proudly that we’re running around the coast of Ireland. One of them says ‘but you’re walking’. 

We weren't expecting to see a fancy Bandstand on the Connemars coast

Sometimes we can avoid the big rocks by running along fields. However, one or two houses, say ‘private property’ so we come inland again. 

We’re back down to the shore before the village of Barna and eventually reach the pier there. From the harbour we’re able to stay on the coast and rough it along the shore. The tide is about halfway in, so at least we have some sand to run on.  

With 'Private Property' sign we had to make a detour inland for about a mile 

Bearna Pier

Barna's equivalent of Donegal's 'Baid Eddie' 

Finally, we arrive on An Tra Bhan (white strand) according to the OS map but I and every true Galwegian know the beach as Silverstrand. It sounds even better in Irish, Tra na gCeann, although that means, beach of the head/top. As a youngster in Galway city I often cycled out here. It always felt a bit exotic, away from busy Salthill.  

At Silverstrand Beach

Sign at Silverstrand

 

Running out to Gentian Hill, Salthill

It is a great pity that there is not some kind of coastal trail from Salthill to here. It would be a beautiful walk from Blackrock to Silverstrand and would cut down a lot of traffic. However, there is a narrow but deep channel of water to cross from Silverstrand, even at low tide. A good foot bridge would be needed to reach Blackrock and Salthill. 

So, Donald and I leave the strand, run up the hill and join the R336 towards Galway. We take a right turn for Salthill and shortly take another right into a small housing development, signposted Gentian Hill.  

Originally my plan was to finish today’s run at Knocknacarra Community Centre, the home of Galway’s parkrun. (this is where I’ll start my next stage). However, I decided it would be better to continue running today as far as Blackrock in Salthill. Also, I thought it would be easier today to tackle the headland, ‘Oilean na Feamainne’ just south of Blackrock. Remember this is a coastal run so I try to cover most of it.   

On top of headland, Gentian Hill and looking back towards Salthill 

I always believed this headland was called either Blakes Hill or Gentian Hill (after the wild blue flowers that grow there) but the name on the OS map is ‘Oilean na Feamainne’ (island of the seaweed). 

View from Gentian Hill to Silver Strand

At the end of a row of houses, Donald and I follow a very narrow grassy path that leads to a rocky shore under the corroding cliffs. We cross a narrow channel and eventually reach Oilean na Feamainne (or Gentian Hill). Yes, I’ll continue to call this headland Gentian Hill, even if Donald and I, as it happened, couldn't find any blue gentian flowers on it! We did climb up onto the grassy headland to admire the panoramic view, out across Galway Bay and back in towards Salthill. Whatever the headland is called, it's a beautiful quiet oasis, so close to a busy city.

Dipping our feet at Blackrock

Arrival in Galway City

We slowly make our way back (more rocks) and reach the coastal pathway that takes us to Blackrock. After soaking our tired feet in the sea, Donald and I relax in the amphitheatre opposite the diving boards. We sit alongside a few more spectators watching the brave swimmers jump into the sea and performing to the Galway public. 

Watching the divers perform in Blackrock

   

And finally, 'kicking the wall' on Salthill prom as only true Galwegians do!