OPINION: The magic of Mayo’s Clew Bay by sea

AS a child visiting my grandparents in Murrisk I was always aware that Clew Bay was out there, with its hundreds of islands and many inlets. But we were a family of landlubbers. Venturing out on the sea was not something we approved of.
I was in my teens before I went to Clare Island for the first time, and my Grandmother gave me a bottle of holy water to take on the trip to ward off dangers. My people had the same attitude to sailing as I now have to throwing myself off Croagh Patrick on a hang-glider or bungee jumping.
I was introduced to dinghy sailing at a French Glenans school on the Île d’Yeu, and it was love at first sight. The sea must have been buried somewhere in my DNA. By the 1980s I was the proud owner of a 24-foot sailing cruiser, moored at Malahide in Dublin. But while the east coast may be rich, developed and crowded with boats, its coastline is boring. From Dundalk to Carnsore Point is featureless, with no natural harbours.
So, I decided to bring my boat down to Clew Bay so that I could spend more time in Mayo. With Dublin attitudes, I enquired about who could give me permission to lay down a mooring. Nobody, it transpired. Life was simpler in the friendly, uncrowded west. The sheltered inlet at Rosmoney was welcoming and my boat still lives happily there during the sailing season.

A whole new world
AS I began to explore Clew Bay and its environment, I uncovered magical places that are best approached from the sea. First, there are the small islands, each with its own special character. Only one is inhabited, Inishlyre, and it is a joy to call by and visit the Gibbons family for tea and chat. The world looks very different when viewed from a small island.
Burrishoole Abbey on an inlet west of Newport is another magic place. The trip from Rosmoney takes you through narrow passages between islands that were carefully surveyed in the early 19th century, through a lagoon created by a causeway linking Inishgort and Ilaanmore, to an inlet that has the gothic ruins of the abbey at its head.
Overnighting at anchor there is to understand what life was like when the abbey flourished in the 15th century and Grace O’Malley roamed the seas. Nearby is the tranquil harbour of Newport. Although once bustling, it now has a neglected air as the town turns its back on the sea.
My next magic place is the sheltered anchorage at Darby Point at the south end of Achill Sound. An O’Malley fortified tower looms over a small graveyard at Kildavnet, where the victims of the 1894 drownings off Westport Quay and the victims of the 1937 bothy fire at Kirkintilloch are buried. One can sail up the sound to the lifting bridge that connects the island to the mainland, but I have never been able to arrange for the bridge to be opened.

Wind and tide
CLARE Island and the 700 metres of Slievemore stand guard at the western entrance to Clew Bay. I have sailed to the island many times and never tire of walking its beautiful landscape. I kayaked from Roonagh with a group in very calm weather and felt brave and adventurous. But it is a measure of how underdeveloped our islands are that they lack safe harbours. Anchoring off Clare Island can be difficult if the wind shifts to the east, when even a gentle breeze tosses you about too much for comfort.
The south shore of the bay has a series of small piers from Roonagh in the west, to Old Head (with its sea caves), Lecanvey and Murrisk in the east. The fact that they date from the mid-19th century is an indication of how development came quite late to our part of the world and is slow to progress.
The tides present a challenge when sailing in Clew Bay, with its tidal rise of some four metres, so you have to pay constant attention. Once, when sailing with a friend, we became so engaged in chat that I failed to notice the depth in the channel to the south of Inishlyre, and ran aground. We rowed the dinghy over to Inishlyre and were royally entertained by the Gibbons until we re-floated.

Neglected resources
HOWEVER magical Clew Bay is, I cannot help reflecting on how small a role it plays in the local economy, other than for sea angling based at Westport Quay.
Compare it to the Île de Sein. It is ten times smaller than Clare Island, with a population of 260 and 8km off Finistere in Brittany – yet it is a formal Commune in the Department of Brittany, has a mayor and council, a museum, a church, restaurants and excellent facilities for visiting sailors. The French took care of their peripheral coastal regions and islands and ensured that they could participate in the general wealth of their country.
Under colonial rule, our western coastal regions and islands were neglected, and that neglect has been perpetuated to the present.
The magic of Clew Bay would not be diminished by greater investment and prosperity.

John Bradley is a former ESRI professor and has published on the island economy of Ireland, EU development policy, industrial strategy and economic modelling.