If the surfing, kayaking, cycling, hillwalking and archery don't take your fancy, Delphi Mountain Resort also caters for those just wanting to curl up on the couch and take in the views, writes Catherine Mack
‘OH GOD, it’s surfing today,” I mumbled, looking at my spreadsheet of activities and then out of the window at the incoming Connemara fog and rain. It’s day four of a week at Delphi Mountain Resort, nestled in the hills between Killary Harbour in Leenane, Co Galway, and Doo Lough on the road to Louisburgh, in Co Mayo.
We have come for a week’s family holiday, and in three days we have already been high rope-climbing and mountain-biking, learned archery and climbed an 18m wall. It is a long time since I have been so active on holiday, but it works, because I can’t ever remember being this chilled – bar student holidays in Ibiza, and that’s too long ago to be a reality anyway. Day four is my first wetsuit day, however, and suddenly this hiking, biking, chilling mum has turned chicken.
I send the family off to the restaurant for breakfast while I mull things over from the comfort of my bed, lapping up every bit of the room’s four-star qualities, the main feature of which is the word “suite”. I like that word. I can do suites, especially with two loud boys sleeping downstairs in a room that is bigger than our home, with their own bathroom and a lounge full of sofas to bounce, wrestle and collapse on.
So far we have done everything here as a family. On day one we met our instructor Sean, who guided us all up the climbing wall. Originally from Ballyfermot, in Dublin, Sean is now a devout worshipper of the “real Westsa-eeed”, as he called it as he showed made a complicated “W” sign to the boys with his fingers, in a surf-dude bonding way that they seemed to get the hang of immediately.
After explaining harnesses, carabiner clips and safety issues (such as not to let go of your partner’s rope when they are hanging on to it 10m above your head), he gently directed us up the wall. The boys were boringly predictable in their monkey-like agility, and I equally predictable in my awkwardness, leading ever so ungracefully to a fit of vertigo about halfway up. As my legs turned to jelly and I broke out in a cold sweat, my children shouted encouraging words. Sean calmly gave directions to me and my husband, the latter being connected to me by rope. He successfully obeyed that lesser-known marriage vow “whatever you do, keep it taut!”
I got through the crisis and kept climbing, to the cheers of my family, finally abseiling back down with an elated grin, as if I had just conquered Everest. And, yes, we did have a family hug when I got back down. It was our Disney family moment, quickly shattered by Sean – who had us straight back up again. Rock hard, these Westsiders.
Doing all these things together, with the instructor riding a fine line between activity expert and family mediator, was genuine fun. Not in a family-reality-TV-show sort of a way, but just plain simple fun.
I WOULDN’T HAVE dreamed of going into a wet forest in August in raingear and headgear (to protect us from midges) in the name of playing Robin Hood with my children. But give me a young, energetic archery instructor with more enthusiasm, patience and sense of fun in his little finger than most of us have in our whole bodies and suddenly I am perfect parent personified. I decided archery could even be my thing, and might look out a club when I get home. ’Cause that’s going to happen.
I am still mulling all this over from the warmth of my crispy white duvet when the reality of wetsuits, surfboards, Atlantic waves and rain kicks in again, and I shiver at the very thought. Just then the boys bound back with some breakfast from the dining room, which offers a superb buffet of cheeses, mueslis and yogurts for the German wannabes, or Germans, and fried everything for us Paddies. Or wannabes. Bet the muesli munchers don’t have wetsuit worries, I thought as I scoffed a couple of fine Connemara sausages.
Then comes the best news: surfing’s off this morning. Not due to lack of interest, of course – they don’t do that at Delphi – but due to bad weather. But they hope to make it out this afternoon. I feign disappointment, thank the Delphi gods and down a bacon sandwich. We end up spending the morning in the upstairs lounge of this stunning stone-and-timber building, which has recently been restored (and saved from receivership) by Aileen and Rory Concannon. They have put every ounce of passion into this place – and have pulled it off, big time.
They join us for coffee, chat and a round of Trivial Pursuit, checking in with all their other guests, most of whom have also put activities on hold. None of them looks too fed up about it. Indeed, it is hard to be fed up in this lounge, with its view over the misty Delphi Valley, its endless waterfalls tumbling down the mountainsides. It is an ever-changing landscape of picture-postcard Mayo.
Having the whole morning just to lie back on sofas, play games and watch the clouds go by is just as much part of the scene at Delphi as climbing that same mountain when the mists have moved on. You don’t have to go, go, go around the clock here at all. No one checks how many kilometres you have covered, calories you have spent or family bonding activities you have done. You can come here and do absolutely nothing. In fact, they encourage it.
FOR AN OUTDOOR activity centre, Delphi still manages to exude tranquillity from every pore. The Concannons pride themselves on the fact that the best things here are free. It is mobile-free, protected from signals by the mountains that enfold it, bedrooms are TV-free (the kids got over that in 24 hours), activities are motor-free, and the heating and hot water are carbon free. With two state-of-the-art wood-burning boilers, they neutralise carbon emissions by replanting and sustainably managing their own 120 hectares of forest. Even the water is free, sourced from a local mountain spring. If you travel by train, they meet you at the station, with free use of bikes when you get to Delphi.
The food is not free, however, and, although a little pricey, it is worth every penny. You can eat lobster thermidor in the restaurant, or fish and chips in the bar, all freshly prepared by chef Gerard Reidy, who is a staunch supporter of the Slow Food movement, and ensures that everything is local, seasonal and organic when possible. It is also delicious, filling and child-friendly, ticking all necessary boxes. Half-portions of main dishes were prepared for the children – none of your chicken nuggets and chips while you tuck into crab linguine.
What I love about Delphi Mountain Resort is its down-to-earthness. It is four-star without being uptight about it. They can’t be when they are dealing with endless muddy boots, over-excited children, workaholics who are panicking because they have “no signal” and telly addicts who are panicking because they have nothing to put their kids in front of. They deal with it all calmly – with military precision considering the logistics of everyone’s itineraries – and with a warm Connemara welcome, in defiance of the cynics who say that this no longer exists in Ireland.
Those on tighter budgets can opt for dormitory-style rooms, with basic bunks and bathroom, and still avail of the top breakfast, lounge facilities and all the rest. You can’t tell a suite person from a bunk person once you’re halfway up a climbing wall, or diving off a pier, anyway. Or, as Rory says: “Everyone is welcome to the party. Whether you’re in the surf or on the sofa, it’s just all about chilling here.”
But Disney always has to have a happy ending. The credits roll, the mists lift and she dons her wetsuit, strolls bravely down the Connemara strand, hand in hand with her sons, and dives straight into the Atlantic waves. No icy pain, just fresh Celtic chills engulfing her as she watches both her children jump up on their boards first time, hands out like something from Baywatch. Oh to be eight again.
Sean, our surfing instructor today, and newly adopted hero of our children, cheers them on, guiding them safely into shore. In reality, I hadn’t a hope in hell of getting up on my board, and knew when I was beat. But I kept trying, falling and laughing, and when, eventually, the shivers set in I marched proudly up that beach, a veritable wetsuit convert. “Can we go again tomorrow morning, Mum?” the boys asked in unison. “Pleeease.” “Sure,” I replied confidently, knowing that I was booked in for a morning’s seaweed bath, massage and hydrotherapy session in the state-of-the-art spa. You don’t have to do everything as a family, after all. That’s just in the movies, and you can give me Delphi over Disney any day.
- Delphi Mountain Resort, Leenane, Co Galway, 095-42208, www.delphi mountainresort. com. Prices from €40 to €300 per night, including breakfast. See the website for special offers, including midweek and weekend breaks from €99 per person per night, including double room, breakfast and half-day activity