36 hours in Galway: It’s the hottest day of the year, and Salthill is stuffed

Monday, July 18th

3pm

It’s midway through the Galway International Arts Festival fortnight, and there is a beautiful giant swan floating serenely in Eyre Square. It’s positioned in such a way that the adjacent Galway Hooker sculpture, by Eamonn O’Doherty, fans out behind it like magnificent bronze wings.

It’s the hottest day of the year so far, and the city’s tourists — and I — are moving in slow motion. I’m waiting at Eyre Square for the Hop On-Hop Off bus. It has 14 stops, goes out to Salthill, circles the golf club and returns via the university and the Long Walk.

The red bus pulls up, and I get on. “I’ll give you a student fare,” says the lad selling tickets. If he thinks I’m a student, this is the best joke I’ve heard in ages I tell him. It’s only later, when I look at the €13 ticket properly, that I see it says “Senior” on it, so I choose to believe this is an even better joke. Full fare is €15.

Seamus Lyons is driving the bus, one of two that circle the city. This one is an ordinary bus, and the other one is open-top. The recorded commentary refers to the Spanish Arch as we pass it. “It’s been called the most underwhelming tourist attraction in Galway. What do people expect; the Arc de Triomphe?”

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I get off at Salthill, where there are roughly 10,000 people in the sea and on the beaches. Sandcastles are being built, moats being filled, picnics being eaten and swims being swum. I have a quick paddle and resist the urge to just keep on walking in, fully clothed.

The place is stuffed with people, as you’d expect on such a hot summer’s day. My eye is distracted by the fabulous gable wall of the Bon Bon, where there is an huge installation of red, blue and yellow buckets. I go inside for a browse. It’s a classic seaside gift shop, with the most eclectic of offerings, not all beach-themed. Along with the €12.99 men’s swim shorts and the €10 sunglasses, not to mention buckets, spades and inflatable toys, there is also a Virgin Mary in a box for €3 and three plastic dinosaurs for a fiver.

Joe Quinn has owned the shop for 25 years and runs it with his family. “This was originally an ice cream parlour, 70 years ago,” he says. They are open between May and September and right now, they are open from 10am to 8pm, seven days a week. Surprisingly, his biggest seller are those traditional sticks of pink rock, which come in 20 different flavours. “All made in Blackpool now.” As for the flakes that go into 99s, well, you’d never guess where they come from, he says, and disappears into a back room to find me a box.

Cadbury’s Flake 99s are made for Cadbury UK — in Egypt. It’s right there in small print. “Mad,” Quinn says, shaking his head.

4pm

I pay €14 to enter the Galway Atlantaquaria, which describes itself as the National Aquarium of Ireland. “We strive to ensure that a visit to us is original and full of wonder,” says the leaflet I get with my ticket.

I look at sea bass and an octopus and two seahorses, moon jellyfish, dogfish, stingrays and other marine creatures, and feel a bit depressed. Some of the tanks seem very small. There is an admirable educational element to the aquarium, and we are an island country that should know about our ocean creatures, but it’s hard not to feel that an aquarium is simply a marine zoo and these creatures would all be better off in the wild. I confess I am not filled with wonder by my visit.

5pm

I’m at the Hop On-Hop Off bus stop with four Dutch tourists when the open-topped bus sails past us, the driver lifting his hands up in a gesture of don’t-blame-me. A passerby tells us the buses stop at 5pm, something I was not aware of.

I walk back into Galway, along the prom and through the Claddagh. If I really was a senior, I’d not be pleased to be doing this walk in the 28 degree heat it now is.

Tuesday, July 19th

10.30am

I’m up in the office of Anthony Ryan, whose department store has been a mainstay of Shop Street for more than a century; a remarkable achievement for any business, but particularly for a retail one. Anthony Ryan’s grandfather, also Anthony, opened what is now the ladies department at 18 Shop Street in 1909.

“He came to Galway from Craughwell in 1895,” Ryan tells me. His grandfather was one of nine. He reaches into a drawer, and pulls out a small black leather notebook and shows it to me. There are several names and dates written in the first couple of pages. “One sibling got the farm. My grandfather came to Galway. The other seven all left for America.” His grandfather recorded in this notebook the dates each of his siblings left Ireland forever.

In 1936, Ryan’s father Patrick went to work in the business aged 16, after his grandfather had died. Over time, the shop expanded into the former hardware store next door, which is divided by Buttermilk Lane. Patrick Ryan was mayor of Galway when John F Kennedy came to town in 1963.

“He conferred the Freedom of the City on JFK. We all met him. Kennedy landed in a helicopter in the sports field, and they came down College Road in the open-topped car. My grandmother Catherine was still alive, and my father said you might wave to her, and JFK said, stop the car, and he got out and went over to her.”

Why does Ryan think the shop has survived so long, and particularly in an era of online shopping?

“We have a very keen sense of where our positioning is in the market place. We are not at the top end, or the bottom end; we are in the middle.”

Before I leave, Ryan shows me a leather-bound ledger from 1909, when the shop first opened. One of their customers who received credit, and whose purchases are recorded, was a “Mrs Barnacle, Bowling Green”. This was Annie Honoria Barnacle, mother of Nora, and mother-in-law to James Joyce.

11.30am

Corrib House in Woodquay is a beautifully restored and listed Georgian house that is now a five-bedroom guest house, with a lovely tearoom downstairs. With gorgeous views out over the Corrib, it gets my vote for the best located cafe in a city not short on good cafes.

Couple David and Victoria Bohan bought the house in 2010, at which point only two of its many rooms were being lived in. “When we were doing renovations, we discovered one bedroom wall had been filled with turf,” David says. “There’s a bag of it up in the Galway Museum now.”

They lived on site for the two years it took to restore the house. Their guests include judges sitting at the nearby courthouse, artists visiting festivals and many repeat tourists. They were full the previous night and have 95 per cent bookings for the rest of the summer. It’s very much a word-of-mouth place. “People tell us there is something very calming about the house,” Victoria says.

The tearooms used to be open seven days a week, but now are Wednesday-Sunday, in common with several other restaurants in Galway, and around the country, despite the fact it’s high season. “There’s a chef and staff shortage,” David says.

12.30pm

It’s €18.55 for my pre-booked ticket on the Corrib Princess, which is moored at Steamers Quay. There is seating outside and inside, for 157 people, although it’s maybe two-thirds full today. Right now, there are three sailings most days and all of them are skippered by the boat’s owner, Aodan McDonagh.

The 90-minute cruise up the Corrib and back is both scenic and peaceful, fringed with fields and reed beds, and dotted with swans. We pass two ruined castles, Terryglass and Menlo, and the remains of ring forts. The ancient blends with the modern: there is a mural under a bridge of two Galway girls, Fiona Murtagh and Aifric Keogh, who were part of the women’s Four Rowing who took bronze in Tokyo 2020. McDonagh’s commentary is excellent, although sometimes a little hard to hear over the hubbub of passengers and the back-and-forth from the bar.

At the halfway point, the commentary ends and I go up to the wheelhouse to chat. “My parents had the boat built as a cruiser in 1991, in Co Meath,” McDonagh says. He shows me a photograph of the boat on the back of a loader, being driven through the streets of 1991 Galway. He bought the boat from his parents in 2019, six months before You Know What.

McDonagh is not only doing all the skippering at present; he also does live commentary. I had assumed it was recorded. “Driving the boat is like instinct to me at this point,” he says. The boat goes at seven knots an hour. He wrote the commentary himself, mindful of giving information that will make sense both to locals and tourists. “The Corrib is a short river with a long history,” he quotes.

His passengers are from CIE and Abbey coach tours, independent tourists, locals, and those who hire the boat for private parties. Evening cruises go as far as Annaghdown. He doesn’t take 21st birthday parties. Hen parties are welcome, stags are not. Why is that?

“Safety,” he says. “Stags tend to get messy. Men show off a bit when they get together and have a few drinks, whereas women will just dance. We are on a boat, and it’s all about keeping people safe.” He also notes: “Women tend to be more organised. They will book a year ahead, while men will chance their arm and ring a week ahead.”

I go back downstairs where barman Martin McDonagh (cousin) is doing a very polished Irish coffee-making demonstration. Passengers watch attentively. “Who wants it?” he asks at the end, and a woman puts up her hand. There is no such thing as a free drink and first she has do a swing step with crew member Shauna Keenan, which could be hokey as hell, but is actually charming. Keenan finishes with a nifty bit of solo step-dancing and gets a well-deserved round of applause.

3pm

I nip into the Hardiman Hotel to order a drink and use their wifi for a virtual work meeting.

4.45pm

There’s been no time to have lunch. I’m at the counter of McDonaghs on Quay Street, about to order half a dozen Kelly Giga oysters for the bargain price of €13, when I make an unpleasant discovery. My wallet is missing. I step outside and try to think when I had it last. The Hardiman. Frantic, I call the number, my mind going over everything that was in the wallet and how much of a headwreck it would be to have to cancel and replace it all.

“Sorry, nothing handed in,” I’m told. I decide to go back to the hotel anyway and have a look myself. As I’m scurrying along, my phone rings again. The wallet has been found. A barman called Kevin found it. I am in such a tizz of relief, I forget to ask his surname. Kevin, you legend, thank you.

5.30pm

There is a queue out the door of Dough Bros on Middle Street. This is the hugely popular pizzeria run by Greaney brothers Eugene (36) and Ronan (30). They did DIY kits all through lockdown and only reopened for on-site dining three weeks previously. At one point, Eugene tells me, they were making 950 pizza kits an hour. That’s finished now.

Eugene goes to get me a couple of slices to try. They keep inventing new flavour combinations. Their newest offering is the tongue-in-cheek nod to a late-night Irish institution, the Curry Cheese Chip. It features sliced double-roasted potatoes, red onion, coriander and cheddar on their signature blistered thin base.

“Ronan is more on the creative side, and I’m front of house,” he says. The brothers always wanted to open a pizza place. Their wood-fired oven, flour and tomatoes all come from Naples. Eugene trained for three weeks at a pizza school in Naples. They now have 28 staff at their two locations.

“We try to use the best of local Irish ingredients to make great pizzas,” he says. Among their pizzas are the Hey Pesto, with their home-made pesto, mozzarella, balsamic red onion, semi-dried cherry tomatoes, Five Mile Town goat’s cheese, fresh rocket and Parmesan. The whole time we’re talking, people are joining the queue to get served. “At the moment, we are serving about 600 people a day.”

Their best-seller is the margarita, followed by pepperoni, then the Hey Pesto. They had considered opening in Dublin before the pandemic, and are now happy to be based in Galway. “We are trying to be the best, not the biggest. We are now in the top 100 in the world, and we want to keep on climbing those lists.” Judging by the enthusiastic crowds lining up to buy their delicious pizzas, the Dough Bros are doing all the right things.

7.30pm

I go for a walk along the river and salmon weir; a much-beloved walkway that runs between the bridges and where fishermen are often stationed. There’s a new little memorial set into the ground here and I stop to look at it.

There are two leaping salmon carved in each corner and the words, “In memory of Willie Browne, salmon angler. 1951-2021.” I wonder if I have passed him in the past, back when I lived in Galway and regularly walked this way. Later, I look up his name. It appeared in angling notes in this newspaper in 2008. “Local angler Willie Browne landed the fish of a lifetime, a specimen salmon of 9.1kg. The fish was a beautiful bar of silver.” And maybe he caught it right there, where his memorial now is.