6th May: Nimmo’s Quay, Galway to Kilevny, Laurencetown

May 6^th The first stage: Nimmo’s Quay, Galway to Kilevny, Laurencetown - 67 kms.

At  10 o’ clock our small send-off party were  waiting for us at Nimmo’s Quay, overlooking the old part of Galway town: my sister in law Anne, and her brother John and sister Una.  Their applause as my niece Ruth, my brother Stephen and I set off was very encouraging because strangely I was feeling a little nervous. I was certainly beginning to wish I hadn’t told people that my eventual destination was Constantia on the Black Sea. We cycled out to the end of the quay where an unobtrusive plaque in the wall remembered an old friend of my brothers, Tony Wilde. Quietly reading the inscription seemed an appropriately humbling way to begin the ride but with nothing between me and America, the Black Sea, the gateway to Asia, seemed a long, long way away.   I began to loosen up, though, as we cycled past the ships in the small port, past a group of Spanish schoolchildren being lectured on the Spanish Gate, all that is left of the original walls of Galway, and then climbed gently out of the city. Sunday morning traffic was surprisingly busy but as we left the confines of the city, past the airport, and the Carnmore crossroads we moved into open country. I was a little disappointed to discover that we would be cycling into a moderate headwind, but gradually I began to feel more and more comfortable, strong and confident. Turning off the R339 just after Eagens Bar we cycled through delightful countryside on newly tarmacked roads to Athreny where we took a break outside the main gates of the famous Athenry hurling and Gaelic football ground.  

By now  I was gliding along, through undulating countryside, with some extensive views over to the wind farms on the  Slieve Aughty hills. One thing we didn’t see, however, was picturesque thatched cottages. In their place are huge, ostentatious mansions, with conservatories and long, manicured lawns stretching a hundred metres or more sometimes from the house to the road. Apparently, against any economic theory, some of these houses are owned by families where the wage earner works as a postman, or as a part time lorry driver. And despite hearing in the foreign press dire tales of poverty, bankruptcy and general hardship, I must say that on this beautiful stretch of smooth upland road between Athreny and Kilreekil, there was very little evidence of anything but affluence.   It is true that there was the occasional empty new house, surrounded forlornly by piles of concrete and rubble but they were few and far between. 

Ready for a cup of tea at Kilreekil, we arrived at O’Brien’s bar just before the arrival of the local populace who had turned out in their hundreds to support a local fun run in aid of the hospice in Galway. We made our own contribution and moved on, eager to be in Laurencetown for the start of the Kilkenny v Cork hurling final.

A very satisfactory first stage, through rolling countryside, with little traffic. Weather dry, chilly with a moderate headwind.