You’re Hired! Spaceships Voyager

1. Intergalactic travels

A less than optimistic start

Things were looking less than optimistic when I clapped eyes on the campervan and realised that I might have dug myself into another bottomless hole…

I had been pushing my luck a couple of years ago when I squeezed myself and my partner, Sue, into a tiny VW Caddy on a Wild (in every sense) Atlantic Way journey from Galway to Donegal.

Countless pints of cold Guinness had been required to soothe her anxiety on that trip whilst she was threatening to 'catch the next plane home rather than spend another cramped night in that infernal fish van.'

Admittedly, space had been 'sardine tin' tight – something that passionate young backpackers find an attractive bonus. But for two 60-plus, arthritic crumblies like us? Well, luckily laughter and copious pints of the black stuff saw us through.

A blinking minibus

Now, as we arrived in hire company Spaceships pick-up depot, an hour north of Dublin, we were staring at my latest vehicle choice – a gleaming white Voyager Ford Transit Custom conversion, which Sue immediately labelled 'a blinking minibus'.

That was hardly fair, although I didn't have the courage to argue, as the depot manager, David, explained the home comforts: two portable camping stoves, a five-litre water container, an electric fan heater, a fridge/freezer and a rear bed with two extra duvets for those damp autumn nights in Connemara.

Facing a firing squad

Sue was already fingering the Aer Lingus app on her phone, searching for a return flight to Birmingham, when I pointed out that we would have lots of space because the 'minibus' was, in fact, a four-berth campervan with two passenger seats that could be folded to make way for beds at the rear and on the floor!

“Cosy, or what?” I asked, with the look of a man facing a firing squad and hoping for a miracle. Her expression resembled the thunder that rumbled overhead as we hit the road on the two-and-a-half hour journey to Galway for our first overnight. And the forecast didn't look bright. Without a toilet or shower, I was skating on very thin ice. Cracking point came when I mentioned that most campsites were now closed, which meant we would be wild camping and using public loos.

Saved by a flat phone battery

Luckily, Sue's phone battery went flat just before she reached the Aer Lingus flight payment screen. So, as a brooding silence inside the 'van was accompanied by lashing rain on the roof, I switched up the IPod (it didn't help that the next song from The Dubliners was 'The Rocky Road to Dublin').

Hitting the evening rush-three-hours in traffic-blighted Galway City, we crawled to the nearest Lidl to stock up on life-support essentials including tinned and dried food, loo rolls and cleaning stuff for the pots and pans. At the same time, I noticed that Sue seemed to be enthusiastically piling boxes of Guinness into the trolley and, with her determination face on, she said simply: “Survival equipment.”

2. All the way to Galway

Friendly neighbours

Back in the heavy traffic and guided by our quirky sat-nav (I had brought my chaotic old one by mistake), we eventually found our first recommended overnight, close to the heart of this bohemian and arty city, on the yacht marina in Dock Street. As I backed into a space close to the water's edge, Sue was already chatting with our neighbour, a friendly middle-aged man, missing his front teeth, in an ageing VW motorhome, who enquired if we were heading, like him, for the nearby Ballinalsoe Horse Fair.

“Possibly, “she suggested, which led him to provide detailed advice on how to check out a horse before buying it at the week-long event that attracts up to 80,000 people a year – including many travellers – and dates back to the 1700s.

Ponies and sleep

Listening nervously, I considered the logistics of sharing the 'minibus' for the next week with our newly-purchased one-eyed Ballinalsoe pony from some crafty cowboy in a floppy hat and high boots. Such bizarre fears were quickly set aside and replaced by worse ones when we dived into Galway's fabled nightlife and Sue found herself propelled by a welcome glass of Guinness – and a very merry local fisherman – onto a nearby pub dance floor. Several dangerous jives later and she was dragging me to the door with both feet bruised by her flailing dance partner's hobnails (don't expect to see him on Strictly this side of the next Ice Age).

Back at the 'minibus', we applied the blackout suction covers to the windows, folded the seats and pulled out the hardboard bed base with the mattress on top to settle down for the night, hoping not to be facing further horse-buying advice from next door. Very soon, the snoring that was echoing off the tin walls indicated that the dancing and Guinness had settled the anxieties of my travelling partner – for the moment at least…

3. On Coral Beach

Morning delights

Next morning brought delightful autumn sunshine, which encouraged us to drive a few miles north-west along the coast to the deserted promenade at Silverstrand for our first attempt at a full Irish breakfast and a pot of tea on the two stoves and camping table.

We were able to use the pristine public toilets (mercifully, Ireland still has plenty of them), and dine alfresco to the curiosity of passing joggers and council workmen.

At this point, we were heading into Connemara proper, a place of ancient mysteries and rugged beauty, of countless headlands slicing into the wild Atlantic with green mountains watching over blue lakes bounded by rock-strewn fields where people have farmed for 6,000 years.

Finding secrets

My aim was to stumble on a few 'hidden secrets', spending a week mainly hugging the south and west coast roads, venturing inland just to the key sights of the north and east around Loughs Corrib and Mask. Sue's aim was simple: survival.

Our first 'secret' came by chance when a passing jogger stopped to chat. She was a cheery Gaelic teacher called Eileen, who worked at a Jesuit college in Galway City, and advised us to go to her home village of Carraroe and seek out Coral Beach.

This proved to be a delight and a very rare place in Ireland. Known locally as Tra an Doilin, the Blue Flag beach lies just outside the small village and is made up of the chalky deposits of corraline algae known as maerl and usually found in the warmer Mediterranean. In summer, the place is packed with locals. But we found it empty and, in autumn sunshine, I swam – shivering and briefly – before we ate outside again on the cliff edge (vegetable fajitas and Guinness). Someone was burning turf (peat) in a field across the bay on Gorumna island, one of three nearby, all linked and accessible by road bridges. Aaaah, that wondrous smell!

4. Connemara capers

Morning blues

The following morning, with the sea lapping lightly nearby and a nosey Connemara pony staring across an adjoining hedge, the peace was shattered by a loud groan from inside the 'minibus'. Sue was rigid with pain – a nerve was trapped in her lower back.

Ignoring my feeble offer of a massage, she rose and faced the day with admirable stoicism, as I served up museli and coffee and announced our lively programme that included a great deal of (highly unlikely) walking.

Prettier than any picture

First stop was Roundstone, the kind of quaint Irish fishing harbour village that is prettier than any picture, with colourful terraces, bobbing trawlers, currachs and ancient pubs, like O'Dowds, said to be the oldest in the region and now including a gastro fish restaurant. Strolling along the main street, we bumped into two old women, who gave us a reality check. They said very few fish are landed there now apart from tourist catches. Gentrification had also pushed out locals with property being snapped up by the holiday retreat set from Dublin, who cram the place with 4X4 'Chelsea Tractors' in high season.

As we parted, one of the women added: “If ye are going to eat chowder in Clifden, then be careful – I had a bowl yesterday for 7 Euros and there wasn't a cockle or mussel floatin' anywhere in it!”

Gugliemo Marconi

A few miles up the road, we pulled over to the car park for the walk up to Derrimlagh, a bleak and exposed high bog that has witnessed two of history's 'firsts'. It was there, in 1907, that the Irish-Italian electronics wizard, Gugliemo Marconi, set up the world's first radio station capable of sending and receiving commercial wireless messages across the Atlantic. It was also the place where daredevil British pilots, John Alcock and Arthur Whitten-Brown, crash-landed their double-winged string-bag, in June 1919, and became the first fliers to cross the Atlantic by plane.

With her trapped nerve still nagging, Sue was definitely not up to the two-hour circular march. So off I went along the well-constructed three-mile path, a fascinating tour of the crash site and the ruined radio station buildings where scientists and British security soldiers spent months amid the wind, rain and loneliness, making history.

Nearby, Victorian-era Clifden, Connemara's capital, has been heavily touristed in recent years, but is still pleasant for a dawdle among its Arran wool shops and cultural museums.

Our journey ended that evening at the beautiful Clifden Eco Beach camping park, which remains open all year alongside its dolphin-frequented beach and soaring sand dunes. It was the same spot where a Swiss woman died when her caravan was blown into the sea a few days earlier by gusts from Storm Ali that reached over 100 miles an hour. I didn't discuss the tragedy with Sue, as her back pain was enough to be dealing with.

Spectacular coastal scenery

With so much to see and do locally, we spent two days at the site, where the camp Labrador, Rudi, was a continuous visitor at mealtimes, placing his head on the 'van floor and staring upwards with a 'feed me' look that was impossible to reject!

Our sightseeing wound us around Connemara's most spectacular coastal scenery, including the nine-mile 'Sky Road' with high altitude views of the outlying islands, including Inishbofin, which has a regular ferry and popular food and culture festivals.

Back at sea level, I chickened out of the drive across the wet sand to Omney Island and we laced up our boots for the gentle walk instead, keeping an eye on the six-hour tidal gap. Being stranded overnight and pleading for a bed at the few inhabited cottages would not have improved Sue's mood! However, a couple of cans of Guinness and my passable Spaghetti Bolognese that evening in the campervan (shared with our itinerant visitor, Rudi, of course), seemed to calm Sue's back pain and 'minibus' concerns, as the night's deep snoring confirmed.

5. A Pirate Queen

Bog, mountain and heath

The next day signalled our goodbyes to Rudi (complete with the required butter cookie) and the beautiful drive to the nineteenth century Quaker village of Letterfrack, a summertime magnet for outdoor enthusiasts with the dramatic Connemara National Park on the doorstep.

Packed with bog, mountain and heath, the 5,000-acre wilderness is a dream for nature seeking and hill walking – something we would definitely not be doing due to Sue's tortuous backache. Instead, we ventured nearby to one of the most interesting of the region's peninsulas, Renvyle, which is packed with history, beaches and sea-carved limestone cliffs.

A stopover there in partially-thatched Tully Cross village was a must, for both the Guinness (Sue's pain soother) and the legendary Irish music night at Paddy Coyne's pretty pub, a short hop from the open-all-year beach campsite.

Castles and abbeys

At the western tip of the peninsula we found the ruins of Renvyle Castle, the scene of a historic clan wedding massacre by the Fierce O'Flaherty's and once home to unstoppable 'Pirate Queen' Grace O'Malley, who is said to have shattered the tower with a cannon shot. Quite a girl!

A far more graceful architectural gem enchanted us a few miles east, Kylemore Abbey, built for a nineteenth century Manchester textile baron and now the home of Augustinian nuns who were bombed out of their Belgian home in the Great War.

Pressing on to Killary Harbour, on Ireland's only true fjord, we popped into the café in little Leenaun village for an Irish cream tea. The owner, a Dublin man, advised us to pull in and overnight on the lovely fjord-side car park to enjoy the 'craiq' in the two pubs.

Steel gate challange

However, as it as early still, we pressed on, and our eventual overnight was far less attractive – the Londis Supermarket Car Park in the nearby angling centre of Oughterard, on the shores of Ireland's biggest lake, Lough Corrib, famed for its salmon and brown trout. As we headed out for a steaming plate of Ireland's customary stomach warmer, boiled bacon and cabbage, at a local hotel, Sue had 'forgotten' to mention to me that the Londis store closed at 9pm when a steel gate and fences secured the car park…

Arriving back just after 9pm, a departing staff member kindly opened the locked back doors to let us back in to the 'minibus'. “Oh that was lucky,” Sue remarked unenthusiastically, “we might have had to go back to the hotel and book a warm and cosy room for the night!”

6. We are the 'crazies'

Quiet Man pilgrimage

Around 8.30am, the steel gate opened and we were able to cross the road to the friendly garage for their loos and fresh bacon butties before heading off on our Quiet Man pilgrimage: a phenomenon surrounding the 1952 John Ford film that, every year, still attracts many thousands of fans (or 'crazies' as they are known locally).

The unexpected blockbuster starred John Wayne as an American who returns to claim his family home and Maureen O'Hara as his feisty Irish love interest, and is credited with opening up Ireland's west to modern tourism. Like the 'crazies', we travelled five miles out of Oughterard to see the ancient stone bridge where Wayne dreamt about his family cottage.

White O'Mornin Cottage

Next, just along the road near Maam village, we followed in the footsteps of thousands of visitors who have come for the past six decades to see what is now the ruin of the former White O'Mornin Cottage. Many have pinched pieces of the building, which has lain unrestored after a lengthy legal battle and a protection order being obtained by the local council.

Our pilgrimage ended in the picture postcard village of Cong, where much of the filming was done and which has become a 'shrine' for the 'crazies' with a dedicated 'Quiet Man' museum, guided tours and stacks of local memorabilia, from mugs to tee-shirts.

Here we had a choice of another night at the campsite or, across the road, at Michaeleen's Manor bed and breakfast. The 'minibus' had begun to grow on Sue, but she weakened and opted for that warmer and more spacious dwelling with a soft bed, as well as its own shower and toilet – the place named after the film's comical matchmaker, played by Barry Fitzgerald.

And so we became 'crazies', taking the Quiet Man guided tour led by Lisa – an acknowledged expert on the film and the daughter of Margaret and Gerry Collins, who own the guesthouse, campsite and the museum, which is an exact replica of the cottage.

The craig and the quiet

After homemade chowder and fish and chips in the lively bistro at Cong's Lydon's Lodge Hotel, and wandering past the Dying Man's House and Pat Cohan's Bar from famous scenes, it was easy to sense the film's enduring magic – an escapist portrayal of a gentler 1920s rural Ireland when ancient traditions and the 'craiq' were at the heart of everyone's lives.

As we headed for Dublin and spent our final 'wild' camping night in the pay and display car park alongside Malahide Marina, we encountered a different Ireland. The modern, trendy, high-rolling city lifestyle beloved of such former and current residents as actor Brendan Gleeson, singer Ronan Keating and soccer stars like Robbie Keane.

Time moves on, but it had been a privilege to have toured an older Ireland, a 'Quiet Man' kind of place, where the small cottages, turf fires and warm faces tell a story that remains a million miles from the world's malachiids.

On our drive back to the Spaceships depot before catching the airport coach, Sue confessed that 'minibus' life in Connemara had turned out to be a dream . . . even with that trapped nerve!

Campervan Hire Details

The campervan:

We hired the "Voyager"

This was was a four-berth campervan based on a Ford Transit Custom. It had dual batteries and mains hook up, a 15-litre fresh water tank, a 40-litre fridge/freezer, a two-burner gas cooker, cutlery and crockery, bed sheets and a side awning.

The campervan hire company:

Hire from Spaceships is often described as the Swiss Army knife of campers, because of the big range of modern two and berth campervans, as well as luxury and family motorhomes, with stacks of options and advice to suit all needs and pockets. It specialises in road trips and tours of the UK, Ireland and Europe from bases in London, Edinburgh and Dublin.

Website: Spaceship Rentals

What's included

• Unlimited mileage
• Additional drivers free of charge
• Free European travel
• Basic insurance
• 24hr roadside assistance
• Kitchen pack (crockery and cutlery)
• Bed sheets.

Optional extras

• Outside table and chairs (£20)
• Sat-nav (£5 per day)
• Gas canisters for portable cookers (£3.50 each)
• USB car charger (£5)

Costs

Spaceships prides itself on keeping things simple and providing a no hidden costs policy. Hire prices start from £19 (in 2019) per day and a 20% deposit is taken at the time of booking. You can also pick up and drop off at different locations free of charge, providing this is arranged in advance.

James and Sue's verdict

Even for a couple of 'oldies' travelling in the unpredictable autumn weather, the Voyager provided a fun trip around Connemara's rugged beauty. Despite's Sue's initial misgivings that it was a minibus, I liked its look, with side windows providing lots of visibility and the white colour scheme, with minimal branding, making it unobtrusive for wild camping.

For two people, the Voyager (an economical 2.2-litre diesel manual Ford Transit Custom) was deceptively roomy, even with the passenger seats down and the rear bed in place. We used the two camp chairs inside for evening music listening, routing our IPod through the decent sound system.

The main storage area was sufficient for our bags, water, food and equipment. With dual batteries and an electric hook-up, the 40-litre fridge/freezer stayed charged up through the week and, using the two camp stoves, enabled us to knock up some very passable pasta, rice and cooked breakfasts outside on our several good-weather days. The awning wasn't an autumn option, but would have been great in summer when more campsites would have been open.

The pickup and drop off at Spaceships Navan depot was easy, using the 50-minute 109a Dublin Airport Coach, and with friendly manager, David, handling the transfer to and from the Navan bus stop.

Campsites Visited

Ireland is one of the best countries for wild camping without fuss. As everywhere, you need to be careful about your waste and causing nuisance but, in quiet season, you can find yourself alone in staggeringly beautiful spots as well as in friendly supermarket car parks.

• Eco Beach

Eco Beach Camping & Caravanning Park

Address: Claddaghduff Rd, Wild Atlantic Way, Clifden, Co. Galway, H71 W024

Web: clifdenecocamping.ie

• The Cong Camping

The Cong Camping, Caravan and Glamping Park

Address: Quay Rd, Lisloughrey, Cong, Co. Mayo, F31 XD56

Web: congcamping.com

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