I once spent a rather tough summer in Canada. As a student. I had two jobs - working in sales, bang in the middle of downtown Toronto and a night job working the lateshift in CoffeeTime, close to the harbour. After months of slaving. I was relieved to head east to Cape Breton and hang out with the natives. Many a wild session was had and one in particular was recollected a few days ago. I was stuck in the middle of one house session (they tend to have a lot of house parties there), testing my tired out bodhran to one of their reels when a young guy stopped me in my tracks, pointed to my T-shirt and roared laughing. The Galway Hooker was inscribed on my back. He was curious and downright hopeful to say the least. I filled him in on the galway hooker and escaped with T-shirt intact.

A couple of days ago, I had the opportunity to go sailing on the Truelight, now anchored in Roundstone pier. Built in the early 1920s, Truelight is the last of the famous Claddagh Hookers. Her life has gone through various stages from being used for fishing in the 1920s to bringing the first tourists to Inishbofin in the 1960s when it was owned by the poet, Richard Murphy. It was then brought down to Baltimore and used as a sail training vessel. It was almost forgotten about until last year when a group of Connemara people purchased it from its owner, Dominic Hunt who had it settled in Carna with intentions of restoring it.

If one mentions Truelight to most local people, they'll have a story to add. Michael Joe Halloran from 'Bofin remembers the sudden influx of tourists to the island in the 1960s as a result of Murphy's enterprise. It brought badly needed cash to the place and local folk started developing tourism as a viable business option. The hooker was officially launched in April of this year in Carna and there are plans in place to implement day trips on the Truelight. Now I was psyched. The thought of being out on the sea was thrilling enough but to be actually sailing on the Truelight was a dream come real.

See pix of the launch of the Truelight (News, April)

I zoomed out that morning to Roundstone under a sky of threatening clouds. A couple of 'please gods' were uttered along the bog road. It looked like a serious day of rain ahead but by mid morning, as we stood on the Truelight, the wind had improved and the clouds had waddled off. In a word, perfect. Out we struck into the Atlantic. Once past Inishnee, we headed for Inishlacken and then onto Deer Island which resembled Mount Vesuvius according to crew member, Pat Greene from Carna. Heather smoke-clouds covered the island. It had been on fire for four days and there was still no clue as to how it had started. As we passed by, I shuddered..there was something oddly eerie and menacing about a silent island burning itself away.

Along with the crew, a young English family were also on board. The children ranged between 7 and 13 and were eager and enthralled by the boat and the expedition. We danced to the movements of the sail and the wind's direction throughout the afternoon and listened to local legends. By early evening, we were relaxed and lost in our own thoughts, a million miles away from email and databases, traffic jams and screaming city pavements. Feeling inspired, my concertina made an appearance and the crew had the very emotional 'Marbh Luimni' to hum to. It felt like the tune to play out in the hard Atlantic where many a young man's life has screeched to an all too early end. I was later to be teased about its loneliness in O'Dowds pub in Roundstone but at that minute, we were making homage to the sea ghosts that haunt us all along the coast.

The sun dazzled us homeward and The Twelve Bens painted a Paul Henry. The children were true warriors of the enduring kind..not once were there arguments. and the crew were very entertaining. The Truelight brought us safe to land, enticing us gently ashore before resting peacefully in the bay. I had felt safe, cocooned in mother's arms all day. What an experience and long may she proudly sail.

Ita Kane