A place of magic but let’s give it a decent chance of survival

TRIPS to Conamara for me these days tend to be few and far between, often confined to the odd GAA match here and there, or a work assignment, so a couple of weeks back when there was an area meeting of local councillors in An Cheathrú Rua, what a lovely treat it was to experience the sheer rugged beauty and delights of the region.

I’ve always associated Conamara with being a welcoming place and judging by my latest sojourn back west, thankfully nothing has changed in that regard. My first trip to that land west of the Corrib was in a national school’ tour in the late 1960s and what struck me that day – and what stuck in my mind ever sense – was that unusual mix of bog, heathers , lakes and outcrops of rock that dotted the landscape.

If the circuit of Conamara is completed, there is also that stunning blend of mountain, lakes, streams, wildlife and of course the volatility of the Atlantic Ocean. Years back, we used to have little school discussions as to whether the mountain range which over the years has attracted millions of tourists to the region should be called the 12 Pins, Pens or Bens, but I presume that given the dictionary definition of the word, the latter is the correct choice.

Large villages or small towns like An Cheathrú, Ros a Mhíl, Carna and Cill Chiaráin are just but a few of the little economic, social and educational hubs that sustain the most important of all things for the survival of the region, namely the ability to keep people living and working there.

A few weeks back on TG4 – always a treat to dip into it every so often – there was a little feature on Cill Charáin, whose name dates to a 6th century Irish saint, who stopped off in the place that’s now called after him, while on his way to the Aran Islands. Again, a place of great natural beauty but yet the message from many of those interviewed on that programme was that without work and economic prospects, the area would be denuded of people. I think the word that kept coming up was ‘poistíneach’, or in my Irish ‘obair’, as to what the future held for this village and so many other parts of Conamara. The ‘jobs’ word was on everyone’s lips. From my experience of that last little very enjoyable flirtation with Conamra, another word that kept ringing around in my head was access and the great infrastructural impediment that the region has faced over recent decades. A Friday afternoon return road trip from An Cheathrú Rua to Ballyglunin – the latter pretty much dead centre in County Galway – took a marathon one hour and 50 minutes, roughly the same time that it would take to drive from my home to Dublin Airport [off-peak hours]. The time to get from Barna, to the dual-carriageway just beyond the lights at the Briar Hill [Dunnes Stores] junction, . . . a staggering 45 minutes . . . and I’ve heard of times a lot longer than that.

Pictured: Conamara: A place of wondrous natural beauty.