The Cunning Plan

It was Friday morning and Joe said he had a Cunning Plan. We would go to Mountshannon that evening in the camper van with the dinghy on tow. After a sail we'd eat in The Snug, a favourite eatery of ours that's only open at the weekend. It's a bistro/pizza house with excellent wine and food and music.

Our sailing dinghy. Photo by Richard Little.

Ok, I said. It's a good plan. And we can have some tunes afterwards in the hotel. There's a new(ish) session started up in the Mountshannon Hotel that we'd been meaning to go to for while.

The Cunning Plan worked. We hadn't forgotten how to launch the boat - it's been in the water for most of the summer, so it was a distinct possibility. The wind moderated enough to be not too scary and it was blissfully warm. Odd being in Mountshannon in the van instead of the boat though.

There were a few discussions among people in the harbour about the proposed new Waterways Ireland bye-laws. The one that concerns me the most is the change from the five-day rule to the three-day rule. This will be incomprehensible to non-boating readers, but do not despair! It's quite simple. At the moment you can leave your boat in a public harbour for five days, after which you are supposed to move it on. This allows boaters who wish to traverse the system to travel over the weekend and leave the boat in a harbour during the week. You can make good progress this way, and it opens up the waterway to people who cannot take more than a week or two weeks off work.

Waterways Ireland have been attempting to police this five-day rule over the last couple of years. They've even lifted some persistent harbour hoggers out of the water altogether. Now they are proposing a three-day stay only, which is what they have in the north. If they want to make the bye-laws consistent throughout the island, then bring in the five-day rule up there.

We got in another sail before we left Mounsthannon on Saturday, but we were across the other side of the lake when the wind dropped altogether. We weren't moving at all. So we dropped the sails and went for a mooch with the outboard propelling us. Into a sweet little bay that's too shallow for a cruiser. There were a couple of boat sheds, and houses with little jetties, and a feeling of other worldness. It was flat calm which was a Good Thing as Joe noticed the outboard was overheating. Luckily we have oars on board. Nothing like a good row to keep your spirits up. I love rowing actually, but I'm stiff today. Not used to it.

This was followed by an aborted trip to Terryglass. I had the bright idea that it would be good to try out sailing there this morning after a jolly evening at the harbour. As we arrived around seven it started to rain. Lashed. Pissed down. Localised flooding and so on. And people trying to put up tents in it which was diverting for a while. After it got dark and still hadn't stopped raining we drove home. It was bone dry.

Produce from the garden! In the photo a basketful picked today.

And a flower in what I like to think of as the Mediterranean garden because it's hot and dry and full of flowers that don't do well anywhere else.

The flower is an Osteospermum which sounds like a whale with arthritis.

And butterflies on the lavender. So many butterflies. I think there's a blurred bee in that picture too.

Fleadh in Cavan and other stories

No photos alert. It won't upload. Damn it. No more time. Battery low on computer and Joe and dogs impatient in car.

Days later get a couple of pics into this post. See below. Can't get them to sit in the place I want. Don't know what they're doing to the photo uploader.

We really had planned to move. We arrived back at the boat in Quivvy Marina on Sunday in amazing sunshine. A whole day of it without showers. We had a half arrangement to meet up with friends at Crom Castle on Monday evening. On Monday it rained. And rained. And rained in that persistent, disconsolate way it sometimes (often?) does when you know it's in for the day. The friends couldn't make Crom so we stayed put. Crom is gorgeous, but not the place to be on your own in the gloom.

We still haven't moved. This is because the Fleadh Cheoil na h'Éireann is on in Cavan ten miles down the road. We were at two of the Fleadhs when they were held in Tullamore and had a brilliant time watching the whole pageant of it and playing tunes. It was particularly fabulous because the Grand Canal runs right through the town so we were in the middle of things, but able to escape (very necessary) at the same time. We didn't think we'd do much at the Cavan one with having to drive to get there, but somehow it's become compulsive again. And we can still escape.

On Sunday night the town was noisy but it was rock music leaking out of pub doorways, not trad. But by last night things were in full swing. The streets are full of young musicians in search of sessions, or teenagers in little clots bitching about each other - no no no, sorry, discussing the finer points of the reel and the jig. The pubs were full of children playing to an astonishingly high standard. But we were on the hunt for a grown-up's session.

We'd done a bit of scouting the night before and the White Star seemed a good bet. The Blessings was suggested as another venue. In the end we were in the White Star when a couple of fellows came down from the upstairs restaurant where they'd been given dinner after playing tunes that afternoon. 'You can play, can't you?', said one of them. Shit, I thought. What's the standard going to be here. We just want a few tunes. Turns out he was a guitarist who needed someone to accompany, and the other lad was a six-string banjo player with hardly a trad tune to his name. Ho hum. Guitar man also had a banjo. Joe has a banjo. So a flute and three banjos. I was delighted when a young American on a piano accordion joined us. Accordions can be good in these situations as they are loud, and this lad was competing at the Fleadh so was good. We stayed until the bodhrán player arrived. That's usually the time to leave, and we needed to spring the dogs from the boat.

Joe mending the dinghy

We were going to go sailing again this morning - had a grand little potter about Quivvy Water yesterday. Except for the bit where we got caught up in weed. There's a huge amount of weed suddenly appeared in the waterways. It was round the rudder and round the centre board so we had to get out the oar. Thought it would be an outboard job, but suddenly we started moving and escaped. Can't sail this morning though. The gaff which has the main sail set into it is splitting and the sail is coming loose. Joe has just been glueing it together, so we'll have to see if it holds enough to go out tomorrow.

Seagull at Quivvy

We're quite settled here now, and getting used to the idea. We've paid David for a year's berth after endless to-and-fro discussions. Would we stay here? Would we go to Cootehall? Or somewhere else? Decision made thankfully. That's part of why we're in no rush to explore Lough Erne further. We have until the beginning of July next year. It's exciting to be on a different waterway with time to get to know it. And we're in excellent company. Another beautiful timber boat lives here. This is Seagull owned by Jonathan and Daphne Shackleton. She's coming up to 100 years old, and is looking in fine form ready for the big vintage boat event happening at Crom Castle at the end of August.

Gospel singing on the lake

I'm amazed we haven't stopped at Knockninny before. As we came around a small island and chugged towards the jetties we knew it was going to be good.

We're in a little bay with a sweet hill behind and a small hotel tucked at the bottom of it. We were glad to see a nice long jetty instead of finger pontoons - easier to get onto with only the one engine and the dinghy in tow. We tucked ourselves on the inside with our nose to the brisk wind and brought the dogs to land. Across from the public jetties is a small private marina, and there was Rose, the broad narrow boat, or small barge, or whatever class of boat it is, that we met in Mountshannon all those weeks ago. The owner was on board and we went around to say hello and see if he knew of a local mechanic who might sort out our engine problem. He did. Then he suggested we go up to the hotel and ask for Marshall who would most certainly organise it for us.

While Joe did that I went to check on the shower status. And joy! In the Ladies a large changing room and four splendid showers.

Marshall suggested that before getting a mechanic to the job Joe should give the starter motor a good hard thump and keep turning the key to free things up. The young fellow in the Yacht Club had tried the same thing but he'd only tap tap tapped. It needed a firmer hand. As I gathered my things for the shower Joe took out the hammer we use for banging in our mooring stakes on the canal. Gave the yoke a good wallop. Click click click went the turn of the key. Then the engine came to life. Brilliant.

There's a harbour dog here (the brown-eyed girl in the photo). She led the way when we went for a walk up the very quiet lane, looking back to check if we were coming. She's very overweight and very matted. Alfie from Rose told me the story this morning. Her name is Connie and she used to live on one of the islands, but her owner died and a farm up the road took her in. But she's obviously fairly neglected if very well fed. The heartstring pulling tale is that she sits on the quay waiting to be taken back to the island, but I suspect she just likes the company.

Aoife was trying to make a nest with her sleeping bag in the saloon so I threw it over her. Mmmm. This is nice she said.

Oh yes. And as I went for the shower cars started to pour into the car park - there's an amenity area here with picnic benches and mown grass, and there's a little beach too. Music was blaring from one of the cars already parked. And there was a mini-bus. Lots of children. On the side of the bus it said The Redeemed Christian Church of God, and Jesus Centre Dublin. The blaring music was all gospel. As I came from the shower block the food was being handed out. Back on the boat a while later as Joe was getting the barbecue going the Redeemed Christians gathered in the car park and sang a beautiful gospel song with leader and responses. It was completely surreal.

Spent last night on the boat across the jetty drinking wine with two lads from Dublin and Kildare. Great sunset.

Might do a bit of sailing and cycling if the weather doesn't close in too much. It's a dull day, bit of rain in the air and the mountains have disappeared, but it's warm with a light breeze.

From Ballinamore into the North

So we made it to Ballinamore in spite of low levels on the Shannon-Erne. Boat skippers coming down reported hitting bottom just north of Bridge 11 (coming into Lough Scur) and on the run into Ballinamore, so we took it very easy. We only draw 2ft 9in so had no trouble. The weather's changed though. From scorchio to a bit grey. But not to worry. We're heading to Lough Garadice today and Houghton's Shore with the hope of doing some sailing. It looks like a perfect lake for a dinghy. We've never done more than cruise across it and into the mooring before, so exploration ahead.

After that we're not sure, but hopefully further north to Enniskillen. We have plenty of supplies on board - bbq tonight which undoubtedly means it will rain. 

It's very quiet on the waterway. Leitrim had only a couple of boats on the public jetty, though the 'yet-to-be-launched' jetties were full. These are the ones that are not joined to the shore. The owner of the flats is to complete his part of the job, but is in dispute, it seems, with Waterways Ireland. Just another addition to the jetties that supposedly can't be used but are. I think there are a few 'permanent' boats on this one, as of course there is no five day rule.

Back to the boat now to head off. Joe is just up the town getting some more beer.

Lough Key Summer Solstice

We'd planned to go north up the Shannon-Erne Waterway at the weekend but we got stuck in Lough Key. We went there on Saturday after shopping at the great Farmer's Market in Boyle, thinking we'd have a sail and move on the next day. We tucked ourselves inside the jetty on Drummans Island with the open cockpit facing the sun. There was a stiff breeze from the north, but we were sheltered by the island. The sailing was exhilarating, we went for a cycle, walked the dogs and joined the jetty party of the people on Paws tied up opposite.

We decided we'd stay another day. On Sunday we sailed and cycled and walked and I had my first swim of the year (I'm a wimp and it has to be really hot) in the soft warm(ish) water of the lake. But no partying. On Monday we took the boat to Boyle, went shopping and filled up with water and persuaded our new friends on Bird on the Wire to join us at Drummans for the Summer Solstice. The sun was even hotter and the sailing even better. Can't think of a more glorious place to see the dawn of shortest night.