This morning’s drive to Galway on the toll road was quite uneventful. We passed plenty of dry stone walls, a few castles and some fields where recently cut peat bog turf lay drying in the sun. As our bus crossed the bridge over the River Corrib into Galway, we saw two fly fishermen in waders standing midstream waiting for a salmon to strike.
We were able to have a couple of hours in Galway. The sun was out and the skies were blue. There were plenty of people out and about in the main shopping precinct. Coloured flags representing the fourteen tribes of the region fluttered in the breeze. There seemed to be musicians busking on every street corner. Irish pubs were plentiful. The vibe across the town was a good one. Everyone seemed to be having a great day. So were we.
We ate lunch at the 800-year old King’s Head pub, formerly owned by a man named Peter Stubbers. Many locals believe him to be the man who carried out the order to cut off the head of England’s King Charles I. I had fish and chips and mushy peas again – it’s better here in the British Isles than anywhere else in the world, in my humble opinion. And it was washed down with a pint of Galway Hooker. Don’t ask me why it is so named. I have no idea.
Marg and I wandered down through the street market to the place where an important man named Lynch was once faced with a terrible dilemma. His son had committed a murder and been sentenced to death, but no one would carry out the final punishment. So Lynch took it upon himself to hang his own son from the window we were standing in front of, thus giving us the term ‘lynching’.
Galway was a really welcoming place. If we ever return to Ireland, it’s one place we’ll be sure to include on our itinerary.