It’s probably fair to say that the principal motivator for our late January excursion to The Yacht was a series of hushed mutterings about the ownership of this low-key landmark shifting into trendier Con Artist-affiliated hands. Situated in the heart of the seemingly perma-blustery micro-climate of Ringsend, from the outside all appears to be business as usual, bars on the windows, a middle aged man in a battered baseball cap huffing a cig in the doorway, not a street-art mural or chalkboard promising two-for-one mojito approximations to be seen.
Crossing the threshold, the interior delivers on the promise of the outward appearances, in that it’s probably much as it has been for the last three decades or so. It would appear very much like the new bosses have no intention of trying to ‘do a Shaw’ anytime soon. A decision almost certainly for the best given the Yacht’s traditional charms, and the fact that probably only the most dedicated non-denizens might make the trip to this awkward-to-reach part of town.
Pints of plain are lined up in front of regulars propping up the bar, while two ladies in their 60s occupy one of the many booths, cackling (in the nicest possible sense) over gin and tonics and, one assumes, a supremely dirty joke. At one point a ruddy cheeked boy in football shorts and a puffa jacket slips in unnoticed to tap a flat capped man on the shoulder, naturally sending the old gent turning the wrong direction, and kindly chortling ripples up the length of the bar.
My companions and I choose to occupy a snug decorated with snaps of the lads at the bar being presented with trophies celebrating their golfing prowess and sepia images of steam ships called things like The Duke of Leinster. Nobody bats an eyelid at us interlopers. The Yacht is undoubtedly a ‘local’ through and through but there’s never a whiff of a ‘locals only’ standoffishness in place to ward off the uninitiated and curious. The solitary barman is all smiles as he delivers our drinks to the table and with a pair of pints of Guinness and a lucozade setting us back a mere eleven quid it’s hard not to share his sunny outlook despite the pissings battering the window.
Words: Danny Wilson / Photo: Evan Buggle
The Yacht
Thorncastle Street, Ringsend, Dublin 4
t: 01 6680977
