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Ireland Part 3: Finding the Quiet Man Bridge


Fully refreshed after a good sleep, Donna and I and Rich and Barb came down from our rooms to a hearty, excellent breakfast, although not exactly a “full Irish,” which typically includes beans, blood pudding, fried eggs, bangers and bacon). Our plan for the morning was to visit the bridge from which John Wayne’s character in The Quiet Man first spots his love interest, played by Maureen O’Hara. Rich has seen John Ford’s 1952 movie scores of times, and finding the bridge, which we knew was in the vicinity of Galway, was on his bucket list.

We told the proprietor, Marie, of our intention and asked if she had suggestions on where to find it. She gave us explicit (for Ireland) directions, assured us it was easily visible from the road and was well “sign-posted.” Excellent!

Except it wasn’t.

We drove along the N59 as directed, never seeing the bridge nor a sign for it. We drove well past where we were told it would be until we came to a giftshop and pub. Rich went in and was told we had gone too far, it was back about four miles on the right, can’t miss it.

Except we did.

We drove about six miles to be sure we had gone far enough and stopped in a quaint town called Maam Cross. We went into a small market and asked the shopmaid if she knew where it was. She wasn’t sure but thought it was about a mile past the stone quarry on the left, but not visible from the road, but assured us, as had Marie, that it was well “sign-posted.”

With grim determination (this had now transformed from a search to a quest to a crusade) we passed a very elderly lady in a walker on the sidewalk who was making her way into the market as we bundled ourselves back into the car for yet another pass. As we fired up the Skoda and were about to start off, the shopkeep came running out of the store to inform us that the old woman had attested that the turnoff for the elusive bridge was just after a sign marking a children’s school.

Except there was no such sign, or any other sign, marking said bridge, a school, or any other thing. No signs.

Dutifully we drove on, past the stone quarry as we hunted our quarry, looking for signs, from God or anyone else who could point us the way. We made yet another stop, at a motel with a re-created cottage resembling the one from the movie (the original had long since succumbed to time and the elements), and they were of little help.

At long last, a couple miles past the stone factory, eagle-eyed Barb spotted a turnoff that appeared to lead to a stone bridge as we drove past. We managed to turn around and rumbled down a narrow gravelly road to our destination, complete with plaques indicating the bridge’s authenticity and providing information about the movie.

We must have looked to anyone watching like idiots as we ping-ponged back and forth along the road that morning, but no matter. We had seized our prize and the victory was sweet. While the cottage no longer exists, the bridge, like so much of Ireland, stands as a reminder of the value of our forebears and what they left behind.

Next: More Galway, the Burren and the Poulnabrone Dolmen.






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