Westport

First off, I want to apologize that this post is a bit light on pictures. I did take plenty, but the computer I'm using is again my enemy. This time it's just an old, belligerent, inneficient XP machine that hates photos.

Croagh Patrick

Today I headed north to a town called Westport. It's a beautiful little spot that reminds me a bit of Kilkenny, but with a bit more of a continental European flair. And if that doesn't make me sound like a toff, I don't know what will.

Like Galway, there's not a whole lot in the way of tourist attractions in the town itself. There's really only Westport house - a kind of adventure park mainly for kids. Other than that it's a good base for going to Croagh Patrick, a nearby mountain and pilgrimage destination for catholics. It was this peak that St. Patrick supposedly climbed in 441 AD, fasted for forty days, built a church and banished all the snakes from Ireland on its summit. It dominates the landscape in this area, although it's a fairly standard, almost stereotypical, triangular mountain shape. For aesthetics I give it a mere 6/10. With a lot of training perhaps it can come back in 4 years time and try again for the gold.

So, if there's not much to do here, why did I come to Westport, I hear you ask? Well, for one thing it was the biggest, most interesting town between Galway and Enniskillen, my next stop. Secondly it's home to Matt Molloy's Pub, but more of that in the next post.

Firstly, what I did:



Upon arrival the weather was reasonably nice. And by that I mean it wasn't raining. I quickly found the hostel - Abbeywood - which is an old estate house. You know that smell you get in old houses that have been turned into museums? That's what this place smells like. Don't get me wrong though - it's a nice hostel. My room even has a rocking chair in it.

So after I had dropped off my stuff I went into town to get some supplies, getting a nice look at the town in the process. There's a pleasant little river that winds through and around the town with a series of little stone bridges spanning it. Peeking over one of them and through the trees on the other side I even saw a young couple smooching. The whole town had the feeling of a romantic medieval village. Upon return to the hostel the weather was starting to look less and less promising. Seeing as a pattern is clearly developing, I realised there was nothing else for it - I went for a long walk without my jumper.

The lady at the hostel had given me some directions for a nice walk around the town. Unlike those given by Karl at Doolin, these directions didn't sound the least bit suss. This should have worried me. But in lieu of anything better to do, I took them anyway. Now, there's two paths that lead around Westport - one on either side of the town. I was to take the first one along the river which passes by Westport House. It comes out somewhere near the railway path which follows some old train tracks back on the other side. Setting off, it wasn't long before I came upon a sign saying "river walk". Everything was going to plan. The sign pointed down a little road rather than a path, but who was I to argue? Before long, though, I was led into the seedy back carpark of the Westport Hotel without any clear exits. Slightly confused I had a bit of a look around. Eventually I spotted two exits - one bridge leading who-knows-where and a little path leading along the river, but somewhat higher and removed from the edge of it. This one was the obvious choice so I went down it. But a little way along I became suspicious I was going the wrong way - I should be following the flow of the stream. I stopped and tried to peep through the trees at the river to see which way it was flowing. And then I realized I was staring directly at the two lovers again. They spotted me staring and I hastily strode off, hoping they didn't think I was a lurker. Eventually the path met a smaller path coming from the same direction but closer to the river. As it looked more like a 'river walk', I decided that it must be the one I want. Of course a few metres down this I came upon Romeo and Juliet again. I marched past them as if on a mission, trying not to look while they got up, looking a little bit embarassed and annoyed, to look for another romantic spot where they wouldn't be disturbed.

The path, however led me back to the seedy carpark. Okay, this time I tried the bridge. On the far side of it I already saw a sign saying something about Westport House. Ah - this looked like the right path finally! But once I got there I found the far side of the bridge heavily gated and barred. There was absolutely no passage here, and it didn't look like it had been open for quite some time. The sign for Westport House had a big red arrow pointing to the right. There was absolutely no way off the bridge to the right without jumping in the river. After long deliberation I decided against this option, and opted instead to go the other way around, taking the train-track path and hopefully meeting up with the other end of the river path.

I followed the river upstream again, as that was the best way to get to the other side of town and the start of the railway path. I passed Romeo and Juliet again, hiding my face with a tree branch. I then proceeded to pass by the rather obvious entrance to the railway path before retracing my steps and finally embarking on it.

It was a bit dull, feeling a lot like every well paved walking track too close to a town or city. There was little in the way of a view or character - just an asphalt path and green slopes on either side. Occasionally Croagh Patrick would peek through on the left. But eventually I ended up on the road that would lead me back onto the river path.



The nice part of the walk

This was probably the nicest part of the walk - the short stretch of road after the railway path and before the river path. Passing by Westport Quay and some stinky but pretty mudflats and wetlands. Pretty soon, however, I was back on a bland path to Westport House. There was a lot of archery, mini-golf, go-karts, and that sort of thing going on everywhere. I also found that the last tour of the actual House, another old manor house, finished about an hour ago. It would have been the only thing I would have enjoyed doing there, seeing as I'm no longer 12 years old. So I followed the river path, just as bland as the railway path, back to Westport, desperately curious as to where it actually came out. It came out in a seedy back carpark of Wesport Hotel.

Anyway, I'm off to Matt Molloy's Pub. Update in a few hours if I'm not too drunk. If I am, expect one tomorrow.