TOUR SPYZooming around the docklands on a Segway is a surprisingly good introduction to Dublin city, writes RÓISÍN INGLE
I AM standing on a Segway travelling effortlessly down the north quays in Dublin. I am supposed to be listening to Hugh Flood of Glide Tours – he is saying what I am sure is riveting stuff about the history of Dublin Port – but I can't concentrate because I feel like I've just been given a go on Marty McFly's hoverboard from Back to the Future 2. History, however fascinating and well-told, simply cannot compete.
We stop close to the CHQ building, which Flood says was one of the original warehouses back in the days when the docklands area was a bustling hub of seafaring commerce and coal dust. King George IV blah blah, Flood is saying, and then something about the Crimean War, blah. Yes, yes, all very interesting, I’m sure. But, look Ma, no hands, I am on a SEGWAY!
Shrinking violets would not enjoy this tour. The company’s safety regulations mean you are forced to wear a yellow high-vis jacket and a helmet, which slightly spoil the cool futuristic visuals. Not surprisingly, you get a lot of attention. The Segway is a personal transporter more commonly seen in European capitals, airport security convoys or George Lee’s garage. But it’s still a novelty on Dublin’s streets and everyone wants a look.
“Are yiz too lazy to walk?” is a common heckle. Well, yes, actually. In Segway world it’s a case of two wheels good, two legs bad.
Passersby look on, either envious of or faintly embarrassed for myself and Jim (80), who is the only other person on the tour, which can take up to eight people. Jim – Glide Tour’s oldest client to-date – and I whizz along the footpath, masters of our own docklands universe, smiling indulgently at the starers and the small children tugging at their parents sleeves and saying “want one, now”.
We start the two-hour Segway Dublin Docklands Tour at 10am at the box office of the Liberty Hall Theatre, where Flood gets us to sign a form saying we won’t blame him if we fall on our ear. I am actually quite nervous about operating this odd-looking two-wheeled yoke.
I cycle quite a bit around town but Flood says the trick to riding a Segway is to take everything you know about balance and “throw it out the window”, as the Segway, with all its gyroscopic sensors and high-tech inner workings, is a self-balancing vehicle.
The training period is brief. I stand on the pedestal and wobble a bit as I find what Flood calls my “sweet spot”, which is much more boring than it sounds. You find your sweet spot, lean forward and as if by magic, you are propelled along the pavement beside the Custom House. To stop, you just lean back a bit. It’s all going grand until I hit an uneven bit of concrete and end up bunny hopping along for a few mortifying feet. Flood comes to my rescue and it’s all plain Segwaying from there.
The docklands, as an area, is not that well-trodden by tour guides. When I finally get around to paying attention to Flood, I decide that the tour is a good mix.
We get everything from stories about the wine consumed by the soldiers marching off from the docks to the Crimean War, to the juxtaposition of the financial regulator’s office with the unfinished shell of the Anglo Irish Bank headquarters.
Visitors looking to better understand our current morass could do worse than get shown around here on a Segway.
Towards the end of the tour, we encounter a group of ladies from an active retirement group. “Can you give us a ride?” a couple of them say. Another lady, hearing that it costs €50 per person for the two-hour tour, looks at Jim and I as though we are mad in the head.
“I can think of much better things to spend that money on,” she says. “I think it’s good value,” insists her friend, taking a Glide Tours flyer for her American relations.
We end up back at Liberty Hall. I feel sad giving up the Segway. I’m saving up for another go.
My favourite moment was:When Hugh took off the segway's speed restrictor and I zoomed down Windmill Lane at 20km per hour. Woo!
For more, see glidetours.ie
