The smooth guide to Ireland

Travelling the country from April to October, looking after visitors' every need – who would be a tour guide? John G O'Dwyerfound out as he watched one take a German group around the Rock of Cashel

THEY’RE EARLY! Facilitated by the new M8 motorway from their Portlaoise-based first Irish overnight, the Saaletal tour group arrive to a spookily unpeopled Rock of Cashel car park 20 minutes ahead of schedule. Even as the coach comes to a halt, tour guide Margaret Brady is “on mike”, drawing from long experience to advise the one-two-three for alighting from a coach.

First, people must know where the toilets are, then the arrangements for obtaining admission tickets, and finally the precise start point for the tour.

“[Overseas visitors] are often a bit disorientated when they arrive, and you must be sure they know exactly where they are going – otherwise you can lose them,” says Brady as we puff up the steep hill, closely followed by the 29 German clients, most on their first Irish visit.

Major conservation works are taking place on the Rock, and access to its crowning jewel is mostly restricted to a 10-minute maximum. Onsite, Brady realises this is not the case today, and that Cormac’s Chapel is inexplicably unoccupied. Seeing an opportunity to ease the passage for her clients, she revises her plans immediately and heads inside. This world-famous chapel may represent the highest flowering of Hiberno-Romanesque architecture, but the initial impression is of a damp, musty vault coated in grimly purposeful whitewash. With vacuous expressions the group mope about uncomprehendingly in the semi-darkness, until Brady begins speaking.

It’s in German, of course, but the nuances are easily decipherable and the body language transparently clear. Previously inscrutable faces are now alight with understanding, as the hidden sophistication and part-Germanic origins of the building emerge. Hanging on her words, people instinctively move closer until Brady is almost swallowed on the altar.

Here she points to a previously unnoticed ceiling of diaphanous frescoes and expert word pictures, those parts that have been painted over by latter century vandals. Exclamations such as wunderbarand ja, jaresound as it emerges that depicted above, with a rich vivacity, are the visit of the Magi and the baptism of Christ.

OUTSIDE AGAIN, Brady is forced to continue relying on the imagination to bring together the intertwining history of Ireland’s signature attraction.

The superbly intricate exterior of Cormac’s Chapel is totally obscured by a Lego land of scaffolding, and in the absence of a helpful photo panel, this must be recreated instead by the mind’s eye. She continues with heroic self-possession, however, and her unflappable explanation seems to go something like this: “If you could actually see the exquisitely ornate arcading you would immediately realise . . .”

Much of the 13th-century cathedral is also off limits, and while the round tower is unaffected, Brady must contend here with someone industriously strimming grass. Steel barriers block the usual circuit of the site, and when she finally returns to the magnificently restored Hall of the Vicars Choral, it is occupied by a boisterous red army of Cork schoolchildren. Explanations are provided outside before a hasty departure.

Back at the coach, the car park remains eerily quiet – a bellwether, perhaps, for the presently parlous state of the tourism industry. Two three-quarter-empty buses are disgorging visitors, and there are only a handful of independent travellers.

“It’s the ash and the recession,” says Brady, as the group pile back on to the coach. “Money is scarce, and some people are still afraid to travel in case the ash returns and they can’t get home.”

And what do those overseas visitors who are still coming find most attractive about Ireland? “It’s the variety and the ever-changing landscape within such a small country. The vibrant colours are another strong attraction and also the general friendliness of the people. The Irish are still prepared to talk to strangers,” concludes Brady as she reaches for her microphone.

With everyone on board, Kerry-born driver Mike Moynihan swings the big touring coach out of the car park. Then, with the imperceptibility of a ship departing by night, they are suddenly gone and the car park returns to silence.

Retiring for coffee, I scan Saaletal’s week-long Irish itinerary.

Tomorrow they are scheduled for 160km around the Ring of Kerry and later a visit to the National Folk Theatre. Next day it’s the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren and Galway. This is followed on consecutive days by Connemara, Clifden and Kylemore Abbey, and then Clonmacnoise, a distillery visit and a west-east crossing of Ireland. On the last day of their “touring holiday” – a title that seems something of an oxymoron, considering the frenetic pace – it’s a full Dublin city tour, including visits to Trinity College, the Book of Kells, St Patrick’s Cathedral and the Guinness Storehouse.

It’s a punishing seven-day, 12-hour daily schedule that still remains the norm for coach tourism. Yet each year from April to October, Ireland’s green badge guides rise to the challenge of covering the country from Dingle to Donegal and Wexford to Westport in authentic road-movie style – Kilkenny tonight, Kinsale tomorrow, Kenmare the day after. Equipped with just a mobile phone, a microphone and an encyclopedic knowledge of all things Irish, and with the coach driver as their main companion for weeks on end, guides multitask their way adroitly around the country.

Menus must be translated, leaking showers seen to, lost passports coolly located, ruffled feathers smoothed, shoulders sometimes provided to cry on, and all the time the clients must be seamlessly shepherded around a bewildering array of hotels, visitor attractions and “must-see” viewing points.

At the end, success depends on everybody going home convinced this has been their best holiday ever. It is a demanding, exhausting and insecure life. So why do guides come back year after year and do it all over again?

DUBLIN-BASED guide Jutta Shannon has her finger firmly on the pulse of Irish tourism, both as a practising guide and a committee member of AATGI, the body that represents and maintains standards for Irish guides.

“Sure, the hours are long and the travel can be tiring, but where else would you meet so many diverse and interesting people?” And when asked about job satisfaction she is equally forthcoming: “I am totally proud of Ireland and I love guiding it. The reward comes from seeing the clients set aside daily reality and instead share with me the wonderful sights and sounds of Ireland. It’s a great job, and there is never a dull moment on the road.”

This point is reinforced when I again speak with Margaret Brady.

Generally things have gone well for Saaletal, but her multitasking skills have nevertheless been tested. “A lady broke her ankle alighting from the coach,” she tells me. “We then had a rushed diversion to Galway hospital, and it was after 2am when I finished translating for the doctors.”

Later she speaks of arranging for a wheelchair for the casualty’s return flight. “All this is part of the job,” she concludes philosophically as she prepares to drop off Saaletal and pick up her next group for another one-week Irish itinerary.