The dark side of the moon

As four earthling astronauts sped to the dark side of the moon, and the Americans held yet another deadline over Iran, I set out by public transport to reach a small townland on the border of rural Galway and Mayo. 

While hurtling through the midlands, I watched the astronauts fumble in zero gravity as papers, a small metal suitcase and even a jar of Nutella floated around their capsule.

Janey, I thought, I would kill for an aul nutella sandwich myself! But any of you who make these journeys on Irish Rail will know that there wasn’t a hope in hell of any kind of grub, between here and kingdom come!

Yes, the kindly man in that little shop in Plunkett Station is the only possible chance of a cuppa between here and Galway. (Although I didn’t realise that at the time.) 

Why is it impossible to get even a cup of water on a train these days? It’s hard not to reminisce about the old days flying up to Dublin with scrambled egg, toast and a pot of tea on the way.

So first things first, we have to get up at 6am in order to get to the station on time. From where many of us live outside of the city there is no convenient bus.

Always beware of a possible full carpark at the station and arrive at least a half an hour before your train. 

Many casual travellers have had to drive away and back across the bridge, then make a mad dash back on foot as the only option to finding a spot to park a car.

All well and good, on this occasion, we got there early and parked down at the end under the flyover. 

The early train to Dublin is familiar and usually full of quiet laptop wielding workers. 

The coffee and the sandwiches, which I always bring, are demolished even before the train takes off. 

As it turns out, that’s the last food and drink we will have until we hit Galway City.

We could have gone via Limerick Junction. 

But once when Himself was standing in isolation on the windy platform there, the Station Master took pity on him and took him home to his own house for a cup of tea! So I’ve ruled that route out! We are travelling via Kildare.

Not every train stops in Kildare, but if you are lucky you can connect to a few destinations from there.

It’s a desolate spot where although a lot of people come and go there are absolutely no facilities. (Well if you count a small loo off a waiting room full of rain-soaked humans trying to stay dry, that’s about it.) 

Oh yes there’s also a coke and orange selection in the vending machine, but strangely not one bottle of water, which is what I was looking for? (Stay hydrated they say, but it’s not always possible on Irish Rail!)

After a 40 minute wait, the Galway train arrives. 

Now if you ever attempt this journey, make sure that you have all your seats booked well in advance. 

Why? Well, Galway it seems, is where every tourist in Ireland is heading. 

We soon find ourselves surrounded by enormous suitcases on wheels and very large people taking up every available seat.

As we set off, in our “booked online well in advance” seats, I am highly amused by the tourists jumping up to photograph the endless flat green fields of the midlands. 

Wait until they see Connemara I muse.

Seven and a half hours after my alarm went off, we finally reach Galway city. 

We are not at our final destination yet and need to hang around for another couple of hours before we catch the bus to Headford where we will be picked up by our host, my sister.

We can’t believe the buzz of Galway at lunchtime on a Tuesday. 

Eyre Square, now an open park, is full of walkers and wanderers, again mainly tourists. 

We have time for a dander and some lunch in a small cafe called Food for Thought. 

Then we relax on a park bench while we wait for one of the buses going in the direction of Headford.

This takes 35 minutes and we then travel by car to my sister’s home which is about a further 15 minutes. 

Door to door, after more than 10 hours on the road, we finally complete our pilgrimage and dropped the bags for a few days.

Travelling by public transport is a state of mind. It’s a kind of slow meditative form of travel. 

We all bemoan the lack of facilities; the need for more accessible links, the sad demise of the train routes to Dungarvan or Rosslare, the need for upgrading, but the future of travel is public transport.

As the lads return from the dark side of the moon, and Trump chickens out yet again, we are on our way home. 

The beauty of train travel is that you can listen to books, watch movies and write your News and Star column as you go. 

Back at Kildare station, Himself runs down the town to fetch a couple of bottles of water. As we arrive into Plunkett Station, we cast an eye on the new one towering over Ferrybank.

Let’s hope there will be easy parking, great coffee and the same warm welcome as ever.