The Old West Clare by Frank Roberts

THE OLD WESTCLARE t took an ass and cacophony of riotous discord. cart at each end Here's Percy French again, this time and the thrust of By Frank Robert anxious about a particular delivery: the great Southern and West Clare "Are ye right there, Michael, are ye engines to get not be going anywhere "before th right? most Limerick night". And he might well have muse Have ye got the parcel there for Mrs. holiday-makers to that things were never that bad on th White? the sea some three score years ago. old West Clare. Ye haven't, oh begorra, say it's com- Those of us who are getting long in It was quite early in the day whe ing down to-morrow, our artificial teeth can vividly recall the the great adventure began for th And it might now, Michael, so it momentous days of the twenties and Limerick folk. The asses and donkey might". the link with such a miscellaneous brought the big tin trunks and bulgin assortment of transport. The most suitcases to the railway station, escol How those gradients could take it colourful part of the journey to Lahinch ted by boys in sailor suits - the fashio out of the old puff-puff if there were and Kilkee started, of course, when we of the time - yet each cherishing a far too many passengers or parcels joined the old West Clare Railway, im- tasy of becoming an engine driver on aboard. To the delight of the holiday mortalised by Percy French in one of day. Many hours later, on arrival at th kids, some men would have to get out his best known songs "Are ye right Clare seaside resorts, the holida) to lighten the load, and according to there, Michael?". makers would engage more cart ow the song: Percy voiced his misgivings about ners to deliver their belongings t when the journey would end, with: lodges, boarding-houses and hotels. "Uphill the old engine is toiling, Armed with buckets and shovel! The passengers push with a will, "Are ye right there, Michael, are ye shrimp nets and fishing rods, and wit You're in luck when you reach En- right? the girls clutching their dolls, th nistymon, Do ye think that we'll be there before whooping escort was spot on, an For all the way home is downhill". the night?' showing little sign of weariness. Aft€ Ye couldn't say for sartain, ye were so all, it was a big day - a very big day By the time we made it to Moyasta late in startin', Oh! those glamorous times packe Junction, much in evidence was the But we might now, Michael, so we with action at the twelve stopsEalon sticky mess of toffee-apple, squashed might". the West Clare, with horse-drawn cart bun and broken biscuits; perhaps it now pressed into service to handl was just as well the West Clare had Recentl~ he could have looked heavy merchandise from Ennis an1 wooden seats. You travelled well down from his celestial abode at Limerick. prepared for that leisurely journey over would-be travellers buying sleeping- And all the time to-ing and fro-ing c many hours, bringing almost a day's ra- bags at a British airport, because in- braying asses and donkeys, wit1 tions with flasks of tea and bottles of dustrial action had decided they would neighing horses emphasising thi milk. Percy French had some qualms about ever reaching Kilkee: / "Kilkee! Oh, you never get near it! You're in luck if the train brings you back, For the permanent way is so queer, it spends most of the time off the track". But we looked forward eagerly to getting near it, as we waited breathlessly for the last marker to come into view. Suddenly, there it was: the shell of the old coastguard station silhouetted against the golden glory of the western sky. Tomorrow it would be the venue for a cowboys and injuns death or glory struggle. Ah, yes, we did make it before the night . a night which would bring dreams of sand cas- - --W--" - - tles and ~ollockholes, before awakina The West Clare railway, Kilkee, 1934. refreshed to go haring off on a wonder- , ful voyage of discovery. .

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