Change of plan, a quick trip to Cork

The beauty of motorhome travel is the freedom it gives you. The freedom to go where you want and also the freedom to change your plans. Our original plan after leaving Kilkenny was to head south to Cobh on the coast just south of Cork for a couple of days before heading to the start of the Wild Atlantic Way. After watching the kids practice hurling in the castle grounds at Kilkenny we’d talked about going to watch a match. Kilkenny were playing away that weekend, but Cork were playing at home, so we booked ourselves some tickets.

We figured it would be a smallish match, especially as we were able to buy tickets the day before. However when I posted on the Total Motorhome Ireland Facebook group asking for suggestions of where to park, it soon because clear that we were wrong. A perfect spot was suggested just 500m from the stadium, until someone pointed out that around 40,000 people were expected at the match so parking there might be tricky. With several ‘get there early’ comments we decided to skip our usual post Parkrun coffee and cake and head south fast.

The quickest route was straight down the motorway, but a section of it was a toll motorway. We don’t tend to use them, but on this occasion we decided we’d stump up however much it was.

As we approached the toll booth we made sure we went to one with a cashier inside. Pulling up the chap asked how we were, I replied (Zagan is Left Hand Drive so I’m on the ‘drivers side’) that we were good and asked how he was, ‘living the dream’ came his reply with a wry smile. I tapped the card machine with my credit card and he told me it was the grand sum of €2. This was the car toll, which I’m not sure if we should have been or would have been if we hadn’t gone to a manned booth (bigger vans were €3.50), but both prices to us were a bargain.

We carried on into Cork and as we approached the city the traffic ground to a halt. We crept slowly alongside the River Lee, needing to cross it to reach our parking spot on the other bank. Once over the river the traffic lightened and we made our way to The Marina. It isn’t a marina as we are used to, there aren’t loads of boats moored there, it’s just a strip of land called The Marina, although it’s also home to a few rowing clubs.

We passed signs for official match day parking, but carried on until we reached the river. A steward in a high vis jacket pointed us to the left, which is where satnav was taking us anyway and we found ourselves a parking spot (N51.901482, W8.441597) under the trees, among several other motorhomes and overlooking the river – perfect.

We later found out that the road to the right was closed to cars and in a few hours all the roads approaching the ground would also be closed, so getting there five hours before the match started worked out well for us. After a spot of lunch we went for a walk along the river to Pairc Ui Chaoimh (the ground where the match was taking place). There were loads of people wandering about in high-vis and it looked they were gearing up for something big.

Our match ticket had two matches listed on it – the main show starting at 7pm – Cork v Tipperary in the Munster GAA Hurling Championship, and at 4pm Waterford v Tipperary in the Senior Camogie Semi-Final (Camogie being the ladies version of Hurling). We walked back down to the stadium just before the Camogie match started and found ourselves a place on the terraces.

The ground was pretty much empty, but it was great to watch the ladies playing first so we could try to work out what was going on. I don’t know about you, but I am rubbish at sports rules. I can happily watch a rubgy match without a clue as to why certain decisions are being made, or what’s the point of a scrum. In my mind Hurling and Camogie seemed a bit like a cross between rugby and hockey – so sort of rugby with sticks, but less stopping for stuff. It certainly took me a while to get used to the players being able to pick up the ball. I’m not even going to try and explain the rules and scoring for the match – but if you’re interested you can find out more on wikipedia’s hurling page.

As the Camogie match drew to a close, the stadium started to fill up and fans with vuvuzelas made noises like elephants in pain. We’d planned to nip back to the van for a bite to eat between matches, but it soon became apparent that we’d lose our spot on the terrace if we did, so Jay held the fort while I joined the snaking queue to fuel us up with hotdogs and roast potatoes.

By the time I got back to our little corner, it was getting really full. I squeezed in next to Jay as the stewards and announcer kept asking people sitting on the terraces to stand up. Just before kick off, I could see why – it was packed. I’ve never stood on terraces at any sort of a match before, and was glad we’d secured a space in a corner with a barrier in front of us.

The stadium erupted as the players came out onto the field. Fans for the teams were mixed together, apart from the other end of the terrace where there was an uncompromising wall of red Cork supporters, setting off flares and shouting in unison. In front of us were four young lads, two supporting each team, as the match kicked off one of them said how strange it was to see it not on the TV. However they did spend a large part of the match trying to catch the lens of the TV cameraman filming the fans.

The fans around us screamed and shouted for their team, although it took me a while to realised that was what ‘GO ON (pronounced go-arn) TIP’ and ‘GO ON COR’ was. The young lads in front of us at one point seemed to be reenacting the scene from Father Ted where Mrs Doyle is offering him a cup of tea, they strung that many GO-ON’s together.

I’ve only been at one other sporting event similar to this and that was an FA Cup semi-final match at Wembley. At that match the fans screamed graphic, swear-word loaded insults at the players, referee and each other, with no regard for the fact they were next to the family area where young children were seated. At the hurling match I didn’t hear one swear word or hateful comment – I certainly know which sport I’d rather go to watch live.

During a lot of a match I found I was just not quick enough to keep up with the action, so my main question to Jay would be ‘who’d got the ball?’, by the second half, I had got my eye in and questions became more advanced like ‘are they allowed to barge each other while egg and spooning?’. Of course, Jay didn’t know either, and I asked quietly enough so those around us couldn’t hear.

The last ten minutes of the match got increasingly frantic as, with the help of the lads in front of us, we realised how close the score was. Then the final whistle went and everyone just started to go home. No big cheer, nothing. It turned out it was a draw, but it took us a while to work it out.

Around 36,500 attended the match and we all piled out in good spirits and within 20 minutes our overnight parking spot returned to its usual tranquility. After the Parkrun in the morning, the stress of the drive down to Cork and all that standing up, we were shattered. We managed to watch a few highlights on youtube of the King’s Coronation before we hit the sack.

This morning after a peaceful nights sleep we walked into Cork for a look around. Our Lonely Planet guidebook said ‘The best sight in Cork is the city itself’ so we spent a couple of hours wandering around its island on the River Lee.

I have to say that we probably haven’t done the place justice as it was a cold, grey Sunday morning. The streets were empty and pretty much everything was closed – even the stunning looking Cathedral.

I suspect on a warm afternoon with the street cafes and bars open and full of people it has a totally different feel, but when the highlight of the walk was nipping into a Lidl, you know it’s probably not a place you’ll come back to. Sorry Cork, looks like we might have caught you the morning after the night before.

Back at Zagan we discovered where everyone was. They were all down at the marina trying to get a parking space. Seriously, don’t arrive at lunchtime on a Sunday, the place is heaving. We squeezed Zagan out of his space, as there was now a car park so close we could barely get our door open, and headed for Cobh. Our Cork detour was certainly worth it, that Hurling match was something else.

Ju x