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The water is rough on the morning ferry crossing to the Aran Islands and rough by early September. Crew members walk the aisles, stopping frequently to ask passengers if they are okay. They are also looking for face masks. A passenger has removed the blanket to drink from a water bottle and then forgets to put it back on. Within a few minutes, one of the crew members approaches him. In general, the attitude on the Aran ferry is informal and laid-back, but they are strict with Covid regulations. Sets the tone. After the strangest tourist season in memory, all three islands remain virus free.
“Which is incredible,” says PJ Ó Flaitheartá. “And it’s a tribute to our doctors and the medical profession. And people really followed the protocols, they really did. “
The islander and the innkeeper recovered the ferry from a visit to Galway City on Wednesday night after their scheduled flight was canceled due to fog. It was that kind of day on the island: the roads shrouded in dense fog, the jaw-dropping views of the cliffs nearly obscured, and the 30+ hikers at the morning crossing dressed for all kinds of weather, which they managed.
The islands emerged from the blockade in mid-July, torn between the commercial need to save some of the tourist season and the fear that receiving visitors could watch the virus spread like wildfire. Some prominent establishments, such as the American Bar, a central feature in the village of Kilronan, remained closed for the summer. The tourist office is also locked and until further notice. It is a puzzling sight. But the businesses that opened during the short summer were pleasantly surprised by a sudden invasion of the mainland. 2020 was the summer the Irish came to Aran.
“It was a strange summer,” says Patrick O’Donnell with a smile. “But in a good way.” The 23-year-old student is working at the Aran Sweater store, sister to the thatched-roof shop in Kilronan village and located at the foot of the 15-minute walk to Dún Aonghasa, the island’s most recognizable landmark. At lunchtime, it is so foggy that you can barely see the sea from the edge of the cliff.
“Obviously no foreigners have come in, so it was strange to have so many Irish here,” he says.
“It was a good summer. The last 15 or 20 years you had Americans, French and Italians and yes, I suppose that with Irish it is a little easier with the language and having the crack with them. It was a good season. Busier than we think. And we had a three or four week period of sunshine, so from late July through August it almost felt like a normal summer here. “
Glorious weather
Almost, but not quite. O’Donnell spent the lockdown at home. He was one of eight students in his Certificate of Graduation class and, for the first time in their lives, they had the island career during a period of glorious weather.
“We were very lucky. It is usually during the winter that we have it to ourselves, but at five in the afternoon it gets dark. So we saw cliffs that we hadn’t even seen before because the nights were long and we had nothing to do, so we just went out for a cliff walk and stuff. “
Remember the local apprehension when the confinement ended. No one really knew what to expect. During the first week, only one ferry operated at first, so visitors were rare. Then more regular service resumed and people from the mainland began to arrive; Before you knew it, the store was busy all day.
“It was a short season, so I felt full. And as far as I know, most B & Bs are booked until mid-September, which is great. There was a day when there were about 1,400 here, it was very busy. It’s getting quieter now. “
For PJ Ó Flaitheartá, the enjoyment of the season was witnessing the awe of the Irish at what the island had to offer. He’s used to compliments from international visitors at his pub and restaurant, You Joe Watty, but it was strange to see the island through the eyes of other Irish people.
“Many first time visitors. And I think people were shocked and shocked. They really were. They couldn’t believe how nice the place was, how quiet it was. The fresh air, the walks. You can walk three minutes in one direction and be in your own little world. There was a heavy storm in the middle and some unlucky ones got caught during that. I also felt sorry for the customers at times because our capacity was reduced from 70 to 40. And that meant that people were waiting to get in and the guests were using their full right to the hour and 45 minutes that they were entitled to. So people had to be patient. And, to be fair, they generally were. “
Occupied
At Watty’s, on a humid Wednesday afternoon, all tables are taken and staff remind guests to wear their face masks every time they leave their seats. It’s packed: Watty’s and the Aran Hotel are the only establishments serving food this afternoon. At Watty, the staff use a menu board that they take to tables instead of issuing menus. “We felt that the menus were too risky,” says Ó Flaitheartá.
After all, it has been a challenging season.
“The numbers are down 50 percent. Our costs and staffing level are the same, but even though we cook a lot of food, we missed the nightly entertainment and live music. But then we had customers who bought their lobster and oysters. We have sold more wine than we did. And less spirits. “
And, like all Irish resorts, a peculiar silence gripped Aran Mór after 10 o’clock. On normal summer nights, Watty’s enjoys its reputation as a music venue. Like the American Bar, they host live sessions and sing songs past midnight. None of that energy was present this year. It has been suspended indefinitely.
“I feel sorry for the young people of the island,” says Ó Flaitheartá. “You only get the chance to be young once. The American Bar would have live music and singing songs and the place would be packed. There are great musicians on the island. I feel sorry for the musicians; my own son, Pádraig Jack, for example, just released an album that he had postponed. So musicians and performers have been absolutely hit by this. “
It’s hard to imagine the return of the international mass market for the summer of 2021, and expect the fall to be quiet. Aran prepares for a quiet winter.
“We will have our usual six or eight coming to us in no time,” Ó Flaitheartá says. And if they don’t appear, we will have to be closing the door and that would be very sad ”.
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