If there is one thing that ‘Let’s Do It Galway’ - those inspirational people who guided the Volvo Ocean Race into our beautiful Bay- has taught us, and that is that the sea is a resource for possibility and opportunity. For too long Galway, and other coastal towns, have regarded the sea as a source of separation, and a reminder of bad times. In Galway, despite having a wide river flowing through it, and an expansive bay on its shoreline, buildings in general have turned their backs to it.
I have written before that one of the tragedies of the Great Famine was that despite the sea being full of fish, people rather starved than reached out to grasp the bounty that lay off shore. Historian Cecil Woodham-Smith* tells us that when the potato failed, fishermen all over Ireland pawned or sold their gear to buy meal. At the Claddagh, January 9 1847, ‘ all the boats were drawn up to the quay wall, stripped to the bare poles, not a sign of tackle or sail remaining...not a fish was to be had in the town, not a boat was at sea.’ On Achill the Quaker James Hack Tuke, exasperated at the failure of fishermen to help themselves, wrote that the waters could not be fished because nets and tackle had been pawned or sold,‘ to buy a little meal’. The Vicar of Ring, in County Waterford, appealed for help because the Ring fishermen had sold or pledged their fishing-gear to obtain food; and similar reports came in from Belmullet, Killibegs, Kilmoe, the harbours of Clare, and indeed, every fishing port along the coast.
I have never heard a plausible explanation why this happened. Perhaps one explanation is that unlike in Scotland and the north of England there was nothing resembling a fish industry in Galway at the time. In those pre-railway days unsold fish was simply dumped around the Fishmarket at the Spanish Arch, which must have stank to heaven.
When I was a boy the quality and choice of fish was very limited. Salmon and trout were a luxury, and unless caught by a family member on the Corrib or in the rivers, was never served up for dinner. A badly cooked herring, with its bones and staring eyes, would put any child off fish for life. Furthermore, for Catholics Friday was a‘ day of fasting’; so again the poor old fish was classified as a‘ fasting food’, an association going back to famine times. It wasn’t until the 1960s that the lovely Mrs Margaret McDonagh (known as‘ Mrs Mac’ ), in her busy and gossipy shop in Quay Street, showed and encouraged people to try new fish, and to cook it properly.
Port plans
The other reason for our ambivalence to the sea is that it was the beginning of the emigrant trail away from our homes. God only knows the many thousands of west of Ireland people who took ship from the Galway docks to America, Newfoundland, and Canada during the second half of the 19th century. The unveiling of a plaque at Gratten beach last week, to the child emigrant Celia Griffin, is an attempt to acknowledge that tragic story.
But there is an even better monument being planned which I hope we all grasp with both hands. And that is the imaginative and practical redevelopment of our port, only minutes from the city centre. At present the port is hopelessly inadequate to cater for the much larger ships that make sea transport financially viable, and which we need to come to Galway. Our gated docks, charming as they may be, are subject to the vagaries of rising and ebbing tides. Our harbour is simply not fit for purpose in the modern maritime world. Plans are well advanced by the port authority to push the harbour out into the bay, to deepen its access channels, and to provide harbour berth facilities for much larger ships, including cruise liners, which we know, are anxious to include Galway in their itineraries.
The very same place where once emigrants set out in large sailing ships for a new life, could see large ocean liners bringing thousands back to our shore to enjoy our city and county.
Attractive Woodquay
One of the most attractive walks in Galway must surely be from the old Mud Dock, at the mouth of Long walk, along the river up to Woodquay. On this short journey I see the best and the worst of design and location. The walk starts along beside the irregular small houses of Long Walk, each individually painted in bright colours, in a sunny position, offering visitors one of the most charming streets to be photographed that you could find anywhere in Europe. The Spanish Arch is a much loved gate into the city, and once inside you stand in the city’s only piazza, The Fishmarket. It is, however, dominated by a large and difficult building, but the restaurant Tamarind, has taken best advantage of the site by extending its tables and chairs outdoors.
Jurys is a fine hotel, but completely fails to take advantage of the river flowing by. I was always surprised it did not design its dining room and bar to fully engage with that wide sweep of fast flowing water. After that there is a block of apartments which could have been located along the new Gort by-pass for all its attention to the water at its side.
I cross the road and walk behind St Patrick’s Boy’s school, along a magnificent sweep of the river, as it rushes under O’Brien’s Bridge. Next to the school, another block of apartments, which look attractive, but again, a lost opportunity. Only the shop Born has taken full advantage of its unique site. Its large windows draw in the strong western light; its height offers magnificent views over the river, and its restaurant spreads outside onto a wide patio above the water. But don’t stop there. Carry on into Woodquay, one of the oldest residential, and most attractive areas in the city. Wherever possible, its houses face the river, within sight and sound of the weir with its powerful flow of water. Look over along the Salmon Weir embankment: the most beautiful public garden in Galway. It has been meticulously maintained by the Inland Fisheries of Ireland, and Fás for as long as I can remember.
A little further on there are benches at Riverside, facing the river, and the Cathedral in the distance, with the light from the sea beyond. The water that pours ‘niagariously’ over the weir** comes from the valleys and streams above Mám, passing more than 300 islands, the ancient monastic village of Cong, Inchiquin, Annaghkeen, Headford, St Brendan’s Annaghdown, and Menlo, the home of the tribal Blakes. It is clean, soft, water. Its force once drove 60 mill wheels in the old town. It was a gift then, and it is a gift now. We should take full advantage of it.
NOTES:
*The Great Hunger, Ireland 1845-9, published by Hamish Hamilton in 1962.
** ‘O commemorate me where there is water,
Canal water, preferably, so stilly
Greeny at the heart of summer. Brother
Commemorate me thus beautifully
Where by a lock niagariously roars
The falls for those who sit in the tremendous silence
Of mid-July...’
Part of Patrick Kavanagh’s Lines Written on a Seat on the Grand Canal, Dublin.
