It had been 21 years since I’d first found myself on Inis Meáin, the middle of three Aran Islands off the west coast of Galway. That was in 2004, to take part in the inaugural fundraising run for the island school, Coláiste Naomh Eoin, and there was a magically timeless sense about the place back then.
Back there again this May bank holiday weekend, the first thing that struck me was how precious little the place has changed. It’s like time rewinds and then stands still, where the greatest luxuries in life are the simple ones. There’s no rushing or rush-hour traffic, and the run is only a small part of the adventure.
The island prides itself on retaining the Irish language, culture and simple ways of life, and in some ways Coláiste Naomh Eoin was ahead of itself in setting up this run. Known as Inis Iron Meáin, it has funded the growth of the school and its many projects. Some students come from all over Ireland to live on the island for their school years, both primary and secondary.
There are lots of these fundraising runs around the country, but something about Inis Iron Meáin feels different. Back in 2004, it was staged deep in winter, attracting 100 or so runners, both from the island and visitors looking for a weekend of ceol, craic and of course the run.
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It’s grown to more than 500 runners now, taking on the cúrsa 5k, cúrsa crua (10k), or the cúrsa fíor chrua (12k), which also includes some rugged terrain to get the runners on to Trà Ceann Gainnimh.
My daughters Ciara and Sophie were with me on my first visit in 2004 when we travelled over from Teddington, London, a proper trek of planes, cars and boats. This time, I had Rob Heffernan for company; he convinced me to run the cúrsa fíor chrua.
Ceann Gainnimh was the most testing part, clambering back up between the sand dunes and on to the road alongside the airport, then back on the twisty winding road where the runners are hidden between the endless maze of stone walls, towards the finish line outside the school.
Rob had never been to the island. We drove up from Cork on Friday to Rossaveal, where we would leave the car to walk on to the Aran Island Ferry. Rob had expected we would drive on to the ferry, so he was left gathering essentials from his car, a bit like when you go to the supermarket for one item and come out overloaded, hoping not to drop anything on your way back.
Inis Meáin is also known as the Rockies; the island terrain explains that. With a population of just under 200, it is one of the least visited of the three Aran Islands. The main industry on the island alongside farming is the Inis Meáin knitting factory, also a sponsor of the race. They provide some coveted vouchers for the prize winners, a stylish practical souvenir that will last a lifetime, or at least until your next visit.
There is also the option to fly to Inis Meáin, on Aer Arann, the 10-minute flight seating nine people. Connacht and Ireland rugby player Bundee Aki was also there for the occasion with his family and friends, all nine of them technically on a charter plane, taking up all the seats. They also all stayed in the one small cottage, another fall back to the days when houses were small and families large.
On arrival at the new pier, we were met by the island shuttle. As the sun was still high in the sky we went straight into tourist mode, bypassing our cottage and to the end of the island. Here we jumped out, drinking in the spectacular views across the sea from the clifftops, then headed for Cathaoir Synge, a stone shelter close to the cliff edge, where playwright John Millington Synge spent time finding inspiration for some of his best works.
The pre-race meal and beverages were waiting for us at the pub, so we rushed down and joined the locals and visitors. Not all the runners come the night before, but this also creates a sense of togetherness unlike most other races I’ve run.
With the race start the next day at 1pm, there was no rush back to our cottage. The bicycle transport was waiting outside for the dark cycle home to what we hoped was the same cottage where we had left our belongings earlier.
The lunchtime start also allowed for the arrival of runners throughout the morning. As we mingled in the schoolyard, you could see the ferries unloading the new arrivals, who then wound their way up between the stone walls to the race headquarters.
The school hall was the gathering before the start, and we were all encouraged to contribute a cúpla focal as Gaeilge in keeping with the theme of the race and local traditions.
In glorious sunshine we were sent on our way, up the hill and out the back of the island, following the different coloured road markings depending on which route you signed up for. As the runners soon thinned out, you are left with this sense of aloneness, not in any isolated way but just being in the moment of your own time.
Apart from the water stations, the only observers along the way a few cows, sheep and donkeys. The cúrsa fíor chrua is not an easy run, but it is easy to get lost in the beauty and peace of the island.
Once the run was complete, it was time to get back to island living, including a swim in possibly the clearest ocean waters I’ve seen.
It was the perfect end to a perfect adventure. Inis Iron Meáin brings people together to share a unique running experience, and that of the island life. It’s also a reminder that sometimes you need to go off the beaten track to find that timeless run of your life.
