No police means no peace for Inis Oírr, as drunken visitors disturb the island, writes Rosita Boland
'At one in the morning, that's when things really changed and the place became a very threatening, menacing place." Helen Sheridan from Ballyvaughan, Co Clare is talking about her experience of camping on Inis Oírr with her husband and two small children on the recent Whit weekend. "People arrived off the ferry all afternoon with crateloads of beer from Lidl. Mostly young fellas. We should have known what was in store when people were already drinking when they were pitching their tents in the afternoon."
That night, Sheridan and her family were kept awake by the drunken, aggressive behaviour of the campers, which continued until 5am. "We were told there was a guard on the island that weekend, but we never saw anyone," Sheridan reports.
"If the people in the tent next to you on a campsite are a bit rowdy, you can ask them to be quiet, but there were so many people being aggressive that night. It wasn't wise to get out of our tent and approach anyone." In the morning, Sheridan and her family left, a day early. Ten Dutch tourists on a walking holiday also left early "horrified at the behaviour".
Yesterday, the campsite on Inis Oírr was temporarily closed for public safety reasons, at the decision of the island's co-op who own and run the site. "We recognised that there were people at risk," says Paddy Cole, manager of the co-op. Consultants have been called in from Galway to assess the problems associated with the site, and they are due to give their report next week. Prior to the campsite being closed, its toilets - which are usually open 24 hours on all sites - were being locked every night at 11.30pm, due to anti-social behaviour.
It is well known that there is no permanent Garda presence on the island; a fact which has encouraged a certain cohort of unwelcome visitors. Mostly young males, they arrive at weekends on the ferries from Doolin and Rossaveal, loaded up with drink, and party all night. Cole says that they have asked for a Garda presence on the island during summer weekends, but it has not been forthcoming. In a statement, the Garda Press Office comments: "There is one sergeant and two gardaí allocated to duties for the Aran Islands and they provide a 24-hour service. The deployment of resources in relation to policing is constantly under review as operational issues arise."
As well as being a very beautiful island which attracts many international and domestic visitors, Inis Oírr is also home to a large number of Gaeltacht students in the summer. Cole admits that the weekend hooliganism is also worrying for those adults in charge of their students. "They know there are areas on the island that have to be avoided."
The islanders are in an unenviable position. Inis Oírr's scenic and remote location - its most attractive and valuable asset in terms of tourism - is also proving to be an unexpected disadvantage.
While the ferries can and do keep an eye out for potential trouble-makers at points of embarkation, it is virtually impossible for them to refuse to carry certain passengers, especially when people are sober on boarding. Closing the campsite alone will not keep people away: Cole says people are already sleeping on the ground.
The bigger social problem is one of excessive drinking and loutish behaviour, combined with a lack of security on the island, and pubs that have no incentive to close on time. And once a place gets a name and reputation as a party venue, it's difficult to erase that from the public consciousness.
"The licensing laws seem to be very different on Inis Oírr. It wasn't just people on the campsite who were very drunk," says Sarah Bruen, from Galway city, who camped on the island last weekend with 11 friends. Her party was subjected to verbal and physical abuse during the night. "The greater problem is the lack of policing on the island."
It's an irony to think that when you try and go away for a weekend of peace on a small island in the Atlantic that you can end up feeling as if you're in the middle of Temple Bar. As Helen Sheridan says, "All through that terrible night, I could also hear a cuckoo calling in the background. It reminded me of why we had wanted to go there in the first place - to step out of our tent in the morning onto the sand dunes and see the beach and the bee orchids. But we won't be going back."