One of the 5k races I ran in early summer was at Galway Airport. It was one of those rare nice Tuesday nights, when almost a thousand runners ran around the edges of the runway, around and around, running one way towards Boston and then the other way towards Brussels — and when you are labouring up one length of the runway and then down the other end, you get a view of the place that only a few have ever had. Normally you were only air-side of the terminal if you were embarking and disembarking. On this evening, we all had a privileged view of a facility that was crying out to be loved again.
But the feeling that I got was one of sadness. And regret. For decades, Galway Airport had represented so much more. I thought of all the times I excitedly flew out of here to experience things that brought me joy; I thought of all the times that people flew in for occasions of sadness. In its time, it represented so much more, it smacked of the possible. It made this city cocky. At last you could fly out of and into this gathering of peoples on a rocky precipice on the western edge of Europe. You could eat the breakfast at home, have elevenses in the Algarve, have afternoon tea in London’s Savoy and be back home before closing time in the local down the road.
But no more than Fr Ted’s Mrs Doyle viewing the gift of a ‘teasmade’ with great suspicion and distrust, the greatest enemy to the airport was growing just a few fields away, where the glistening concrete of the M6 offered great possibilities to tens of thousands of drivers accustomed to being stuck in Moate or departures.
And as that sleek surface was laid on that great motorway, in the distance you could hear the tap tap of the final nail in the coffin of the airport.
A fall of 50,000 passengers over the life of the boom, illustrated that the airport was struggling and that it was surely a matter of time before it was put out of its misery. And when the subvented flights were pulled, so too was the plug on its life support machine.
And so now it lies, a facility for local pilots and some companies and inexplicably at the time, finding itself in the ownership of our two local authorities which were seemingly left out of the loop when it became embroiled in the current furore over the tendering of the air service to the Aran Islands.
Now it seems certain that the future of the airport lies not in aviation but in a different vision, one drawn up and suggested by consultants who presented both councils with their findings this week.
One is not surprised that the consultants managed to conclude that the area is best suited for use as a creative campus as it is practically a blank canvas, and any black canvas can be turned into a creative hub given a vivid imagination. They also suggest that it could act a business park….or maybe a bit of whatever you’re having yourself.
Reports by experts are grand — after all, an expert is nothing but a local lad who went away. What is needed is action on the site. Action has to be taken on these noble recommendations so that in a decade’s time, we see some of the imagined vision come to fruition. Let it be overflowing with creatives flooding the world with big class animation or games. Let it be something more than just a corporate park.
It is to be hoped that the joint councils will revisit the findings time and time again so that this impetus is not lost and that this fine space, perfectly located goes on to serve the city like it one did. Attracting in the cream of various fields, like it once did.
I for one don’t want to be running in a field in 2025, and feeling concrete deep beneath the grass have to ask someone, “wasn’t there an airport around here once?”
Let’s get creative about this creative hub.
