Sailing to Kinsale: A Sister City Adventure
It was a Thursday night in July at the Fifth Ward Bar in the tidy Irish seaport of Kinsale, and the joint was hopping. The day before, aboard the Swan 68 Aphrodite, we’d sailed past the lighthouse and golf course on Old Head of Kinsale, swung a left in the winding channel just before the regal Charles Fort, and eased alongside a dock at the Kinsale Yacht Club in the protected harbor. That evening, the band was playing a raucous set of Irish rock interspersed with tunes that included, of all things, John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” No matter: I sipped my Jameson’s and sang right along with the rest of the crowd.
Kinsale was a great place to conclude a transatlantic voyage, but it was especially appropriate for this trip, which had commenced from Newport, Rhode Island, some 16 days before. That’s because Newport and Kinsale have been “sister cities” since formally “twinning up” in 1999. And the Fifth Ward Bar, adjacent to the White House Restaurant, was a perfect place to slake one’s thirst. This bar was established in 2018, named after a Newport neighborhood that’s been an Irish-American enclave since the mid-1800s, when many an Irish family immigrated to the States and became local fixtures, firemen and tradesmen who built the famed Bellevue Avenue mansions. Since the bar opened for business, many a Newporter has paid a pilgrimage, signed the guestbook and perhaps left souvenirs, including the Rhode Island “Ocean State” license plates hanging on the walls.
Kinsale is a fraction of the size of Newport, but the sisters share a similar vibe. Both are resort towns situated on a historic waterfront that attracts plenty of tourists and day-trippers. History runs deep in each locale, both of which are guarded by a stout fort (Fort Adams in Newport) at the mouth of their harbors. Kinsale is probably better known than Newport for its excellent restaurants and gourmet food festivals, but it’s easy to find a drink in both places.
The maritime link may be the strongest. Like Newport, Kinsale is a sailor’s town. The bustling Kinsale Yacht Club couldn’t have been more welcoming or hospitable. The restaurant serves tasty food, and the bar has a dozen beers on tap. I couldn’t resist that first Guinness (though I was admonished for failing to order a Murphy’s or Beamish, as I was in County Cork). The showers are excellent, and there’s a handy side room with a washer and dryer. And there’s plenty of sailing going on, with the parking lot out front teeming with junior sailors rigging up their dinghies every morning, and big-boat racing underway on some weeknights. The yacht-club marina is filled with well-kept production cruising boats, mostly in the 30- to 40-foot range, and a few salty classics. One thing the club is not, and the same can be said of Kinsale proper, is ostentatious (alas, the same can’t be said of pockets of Newport). It’s wholesome, in the best ways imaginable.
Calling on Kinsale had been on my bucket list. My Newport firefighter cousin and his mates come often, and raved about it. Just a year ago, I sailed right past it on the nonstop Round Ireland Race, and vowed to make a visit sometime soon. When I was offered a slot last winter to sail there on Aphrodite, it was like a dream come true. And it totally exceeded my expectations.
After all, I’ve got some Irish history of my own. My ancestors, Roger and Bridget McCormick, departed the Emerald Isle from County Roscommon in the mid-1800s and traveled by sea to Newport, becoming the first in a long line of McCormicks to take up residence in the so-called “City by the Sea.” Nearly two centuries later, it seemed pretty fitting to travel back across the same waters they’d negotiated. And while it may sound a bit sappy, it must be said: Sailing to Ireland sort of felt like sailing home.
Herb McCormick is a CW editor-at-large.
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