A week on Derg

We had a week on the boat before I went to visit my parents in England and before Joe flew to South Africa (Pretoria) to a conference. In between I was doing the final revision of the manuscript for a book that's coming out next year - yes! It's about Winter Solstice and her crew on the waterways. You will be kept informed.

We're still just messing about on Lough Derg, but this time we made it all the way up to Terryglass. Though we began in Mountshannon and got caught there for a day longer than we'd planned partly because we were enjoying it and partly because it was very windy and the dogs get upset when the lake is a bit rough.

Mountshannon

We did a car shuttle to Dromaan using the bikes, and on our way back noticed a gallery open just before the turn down to harbour. Through a courtyard with fabulous views of the lake, in through an open door to a big bright room to find Elizabeth Carrington at her desk (? I'm sure artists don't call the table they work at a desk). We ended up buying two prints of her paintings - big ones, on high quality paper. We paid half the money and left them there as we were on the boat - and we still haven't picked them up. Isn't that terrible. It's just been a bit too hectic the last couple of weeks. But I can't wait to get them home and hang them.

In Dromaan Harbour we found Flynn, Winter Solstice's sister boat who's been bought by someone who is (hooray!) doing her up. It was terrible to watch Flynn steadily deteriorating in Mountshannon. The same people also bought the boat Flynn is tied to whose name I can never remember. Two projects. Not for the fainthearted. Poor Flynn looks terrible at the moment (she's the blue one), but that's because all the bad things are being undone before the good things are done.

Flynn and her companion

Others were able to relax as they don't have a project boat.

On the lunch break

After Dromaan it was Dromineer where we had to avoid Shannon One Designs on the way in - they'd been having a regatta for the past week.

SODs at Dromineer

We were walking the dogs through the Yacht Club, having a look at the other SODs lined up along the shore and got chatting to a couple who also had a small dog. A bit less than Aoife-sized. Aoife loves that - someone shorter than her! Joe got lots of brownie points for naming the little fellow a Norwich Terrier. A game progressed between the dogs as we chatted - not Frankie though, who wasn't impressed. Turned out our new friends, although from Ireland originally, lived in Cheshire not too far from my parents, were members of Nantwich Choral Society (my hometown), had put on an Irish music event with musicians we used to play tunes with... then the small dogs decided they'd had enough grown-up chatter. Time to go. Bark bark bark. Two of a kind.

We met again at Terryglass. Some of us drank too much wine. But not these two:

In the shade

It was hot. Shorts came out, and bicycles. We stayed another night and had dinner in the Derg Inn with our new friends. The Derg Inn is reasonably priced again. For a while, when everything went mad and people were charging stupid money for food, we stopped eating there. Went next door to Paddy's which is perfectly good but lined with televisions showing sport. An excellent burger and chips in the Derg Inn for around €12-13 (sorry crap at remembering prices). Good wine. Good atmosphere.

The harbour was packed, even with the new jetties. We hadn't been in Terryglass since they were put in. And there's electrics too, like so many harbours now. We're getting spoiled, but at least we can charge up our devices.

WS in Terryglass - we still daren't take off the bimini rain cover in spite of the sunshine

Dinghy full of water

Festival session in Shortt's Bar, Feakle

We went to Winter Solstice today for the first time in a week apart from a quick spin-by at the weekend. It was the Feakle Traditional Music Festival and we've been on festival time, playing tunes every night in sessions, going to bed at three (or four or five) and getting up very late. Today was wild with wind and rain, and we'd had mad torrential weather on Tuesday, so we were worried about the dinghy in Mountshannon Harbour. She was surely full of water. So we wanted to take her out and bring her home.

We needed life jackets, and a boat hook, all of which were on Winter Solstice, so we called at Scarriff to pick them up. And there was a letter! In the cockpit. People read my blog! Thank you Andrew and Helen, crew of Woodpecker. And yes, we'll definitely be back on lovely Lough Erne again.

The dinghy was indeed full of water, but still afloat. Joe set about baling

Baling out

while I had a look about. The lake was very high. Another boat here that needs baling:

The swimming area in Mountshannon

We pulled the dinghy round all the moored boats on the council jetty where we'd tied her temporarily, me with the painter and Joe with the boathook. Then I had to let go and Joe was on his own. I thought I'd lost him at one point. He was pushing straight into the roaring gale, had had to let go with the boathook and the wind caught him. He and the little blue boat were on their way to the Yacht Club's floating moorings. But no! He managed to haul out an oar and regain control. Here she is with her mast unstepped (destepped?):

Waiting for the trailer

And out she comes:

Ready for home

We had a mooch about the harbour before we left and spotted this:

Hein Goodewind

An old timber cruiser from the Norfolk Broads. The owners came back from the shop as we were leaving and we were able to have the typical timber boat owners' chat. Leaks (where, not if). Painting (also varnishing). Winter covers (importance of). The question everyone asks (with or without sharp intake of breath); 'needs a lot of work does she?'

This boat is a lot older than ours. It seems there were four of them imported into Ireland at the same time. This is probably the only one still in regular use - or, indeed, still in one piece, although there may be another being worked on in Shannon Harbour. Maybe we'll go and have a look. Hoping to go off for a jaunt this weekend. If this wretched (but also exhilarating) wind ever dies down so we can get up the lake.

Launching of the boat

Holy Island from Knockafort

An unexpected invitation to celebrate the launching of a boat. Doug had built an Ian Oughtred designed boat and it was ready for the water. There are two masts yet to be stepped, and no sails, but there are four oars. It was Thursday, that first true summer's day, and this was just what we needed. We'd been in Feakle the night before, playing at a session, bed at 4.30. Sunshine and water would bring us back to reality.

Ian Oughtred boats always have beautiful lines and look gorgeous in or out of the water. This one was no different.

Preparing for launch

We'd drank the wine (or in our case orange juice, an after-the-night-before necessity), all the witnesses were assembled, and into the water she went.

Afloat in calm waters (and a tilted horizon)

The family were the first to take her out, as is only right. The boat needs three people to make the most of her. Two at the oars and one at the rudder. They disappeared towards Holy Island on their inaugural voyage having been sent off by first a piper then two flutes and a banjo.

Out into the misty distance

Joe and I played The Launching of the Boat. After that it was all water themed. Out on the Ocean, Ships are Sailing and so on until we ran out of ideas. Then the swimming togs came out. I've never swam from here before - or launched a boat from here for that matter - but it seems you can swim out to the reeds you see in the photo and stand on the sandy bottom. A destination!

Get set

And they're off

The first party returned from their maiden voyage. The boat behaved beautifully. Everything worked.

Rowing through reflections

 Suddenly I wanted to be in the water too, the first time this summer I'd even entertained the idea - for obvious shite weather reasons. But I'd no togs. No towel. However, there is always underwear... Collette and I went in together - she had togs and towel. Silky lukewarm water. Head under to ease the hangover. Out to the gap between the reeds to stand on the sandy bottom but oh god feet down and slimy river weeds with likely slimy things living in them. Gulp.

Dinghy sailing again

There's great cycling from Dromineer. That's how we found Black Lough of course (see the previous blog). There are views of Lough Derg you don't usually see. Here's Illaunmore, the big island just off the Tipp shore where we anchored for lunch on our way back from Kilgarvan.

Looking at Illaunmore from Urra

It was a steep climb to the top of Urra Hill where we found several houses. One is clearly visible from the lake - a white box-like structure. We discovered a sister house to it, probably not visible from the water.

White house

Work must have stopped suddenly - the chimney is painted halfway up. You find yourself making up stories about what befell these ambitious projects dotted around the country. This would be quite a place when finished with fabulous views of the lake if you trimmed the hedge on the road passing beside it.



The dinghy finally got launched in Mountshannon last weekend without a glitch. Amazing. Straight into the water. The outboard started. We hadn't forgotten anything important.

The dinghy in Mountshannon

The quay wall is at a mad angle in this photo. That's always happening to me. My horizons are forever crooked. I put it down to malfunctioning eyesight - I have astigmatism which does strange things to straight lines. Anyway, there's our pretty little dinghy secure against the mothership.

We took the dinghy out in very light winds to get ourselves attuned again. We didn't go out at all last year. The dinghy was sanded down but not varnished, Winter Solstice was up north and we seemed to be doing other things. Would we remember how to put up the mast and sails? Would we know which line did what. Would we still be able to sail the thing?

So many questions, thankfully all answered yes. It seems that sailing is like riding a bike - you don't forget. It's a physical memory once you've done something many times and your body remembers.

The next day we tried going out twice, but each time the wind eluded us. The lake looked very beautiful though.

The day after that I woke to hear shrouds clanking against masts and knew we were in for a good day. The difference between sailing and cruising requirements! However, it wasn't going to be as easy to get out. The day before we'd sailed easily from the harbour, but we'd moved Winter Solstice the previous evening. We'd been to The Snug for dinner before going to the hotel to play in the session, but came back to the boat in between to let the dogs out. Before we walked up to the village, the jetty looked like this:

There's Winter Solstice on the left

When we returned there were three big Carrick Craft boats parked here. A clot of lads was being rowdy on one of them. It could mean only one thing. Stag Party.

We moved. They were very nice about it. I went and explained what we were doing - didn't want to offend anyone - saying it was for both our benefits. They wanted us to come aboard and have a drink. A big lad dressed as a Viking lifted me from my feet. Hmm.

As we pulled out suddenly we had a passenger.

'I wanted to help,' he said, looking slightly alarmed.

'You're going to have a little trip,' I said, and made him sit down safely on the coach house roof.

The boat and passenger were reunited with the shore and we set off to the pub for tunes.

So to sailing in the good wind. We motored to an outer jetty, put up the sails and easily got out. Joe had the helm, caught the wind and sped along towards Holy Island. Then it was my turn. Back into the little bay off Mountshannon Bay. A very different sail to the day before.

I tried to bring the dinghy in without the motor. Too windy, and in the wrong direction. Would have been Ok if Winter Solstice had been in her original position as we could have gone head to wind on the wall. We very nearly did get onto the jetty we'd set off from, slowly slowly head to wind until nearly there, then a quick turn and the wind caught the sails. Away we went out of the harbour, tacked and came back. Actually, the first attempt was good, but because both Joe and I were on the same side of the boat, Joe with painter, me with boat hook, we dipped over too far and the dinghy was in danger of getting trapped under the jetty.

So eventually we dropped the sails and motored to the wall just in front of Winter Solstice. I was ready with the painter when Joe accelerated instead of putting the outboard into neutral. We shot forward into the rubber dinghy of the huge cruiser in front. Then the wind caught us and we bumped, very gently, the cruiser itself.

We were both very grumpy when we finally tied up off Winter Solstice.

Black Lough Mystery

The strange affair of the Black Lough that wasn't is solved. It seems that what boaters call Black Lough isn't a lake at all but a small bay round the back of Illaunmore. The real Black Lough is just below Urra, a hill not far from Dromineer and certainly not accessible by boat. Not even a dinghy I don't think.

We cycled up to Urra round the edge of the bay from Dromineer and eventually found this little lake. Here it is:

I don't know if any of this blog is going to appear as I'm doing it from my phone. But here goes.

Prosecco in the rain

What can you do? You arrange for friends to visit with plans of a trip up the river to Scarriff and it rains. Wetting, ceaseless, you-know-it-won't-stop rain. You can either be a slob or have a small adventure. We went for the adventure. Or at least the getting out of the house. And one of the party happened to have a bottle of Prosecco about her person, so we anchored off Iniscealtra within sight of the round tower and Erin popped the cork.

Catching the moment

Joe and I had decided at the last minute to stay on board that night - Friday - and play some tunes in the session at the hotel, so a hurried packing for one night. Saturday was sunny and, astonishingly, hot. We couldn't go home now. We'd a car in Scarriff and one in Mountshannon for car-shuttling purposes, so I took one of them home and cycled back to Mountshannon over the mountain. Joe and I did this ride in April, but there seemed to be a lot more uphill this time. I had a rucksack on my back full of clothes, and various essential supplies in my bike bag, so I suppose that was it. Still the joy of it at the top, bog all around, and views of our own valley behind, Lough Derg in front.

Back in Mountshannon and Joe had had a text from friends. Were we on Derg and if so would we like to join them in Kilgarvan. A beautiful late afternoon. A trip up the lake would be just the thing.

Looking back at Scarriff Bay

Next day we dropped anchor beside Illaunmore, the inhabited island that lies off the Tipperary shore north of Dromineer. The tiny bay we chose, we realised as we reached it, contained a cut into a small harbour with a house beyond. I wonder how people in such places feel when a boat anchors off? The water doesn't belong to you, yet you must have a sense of ownership of the lake beside your house.

Later, after a drive-past from the RNLI who, we later learned, had been involved in a rescue, we chugged into Castletown Bay for a mooch and a look to see could we find the way into Black Lough. Joe was sure he'd heard this was possible. Couldn't see a way in at all, but that's often the way when there are reeds lining the bank. We had the old Admiralty Chart which we were sure showed a river from this bay. However we must have been mistaken - I'll check when on board again - the way in goes from just beyond where we anchored for lunch. In fact a boat went in that way, but we assumed it was heading for its own little harbour. We should have followed it.

Anyway, there was a nice ruined castle to look at from Casteletown Bay.

The crinkly bit on the hill is the castle

Ridiculous that we haven't explored all this before. It's the Lough Ree syndrome I think. You get stuck in a certain pattern of movement. On Ree it was north to south and onwards, but spending a week there allowed us to find all the hidden-away bits of the lake. We're going to stay on Derg for the next while, do a bit of sailing, explore wherever we have yet to explore.

Sunday night was tunes in Garry. Considering we'd only come out for a night we were doing well.

In Garrykennedy

Ousing floods and Cheshire canals

Outside the Shroppie Fly in Audlem

The great thing about Cheshire if you have a bicycle is that there are very few hills. Undulations, yes, but not many 1 in 4s. Around Nantwich where we were staying last week there are networks of twisty lanes to ride along and, if you plan it right, a decent canalside pub selling good ale. We were drinking Landlord bitter in this one.

Aqueduct Marina

You can't go far in Cheshire without tripping over a canal. There are plenty of canal marinas too, many of them branching out to cater for the apparently insatiable appetite for cafés. I took my parents to the Aqueduct Marina which sits, handily, on a linking section between the Shropshire Union and the Trent and Mersey.

Narrow dogs for narrow boat

It's all narrowboats of course in this part of the world. Lots and lots of them. This one went past while we were strolling around looking at boats.












The other waterway of the trip was to be the River Ouse  in Yorkshire. We were visiting Joe's cousin and her family who keep a boat on a section of the river near to York. We were supposed to be going from their house in Leeds to the boat on the Friday night for a barbecue followed by a gentle cruise into York for a pint, but this was the day of The Big Rain. We'd arrived on Thursday evening in a thunderstorm, lightning crackling  overhead as we ran for the front door, and it rained pretty much incessantly from then on. We had a curry down the road instead.

On the River Ouse

But on Saturday the rain had cleared to a bit of sunshine, so we went to look at the boat at York Marine and have lunch on board.

View from the cockpit

The river was in spate. We passed a huge houseboat (static and for hire) on the way to the mooring which had a ladder up the perilously angled gang plank and a jeep attached by rope to the bow. Not sure what was going on there.

As we stepped onto the boat we were visiting I watched a father and young daughter pass downstream in a tiny rubber dinghy with a small outboard. I wondered would they be able to get back to wherever they came from.

High and brown

We walked along the river to a marina downstream where you could really see the extent of the flood.

You'd need your waders to get onto this boat. Most of the moorings along the bank here were cut off, some with what looked like extensive damage to the walkways.

There's a sculpture on the rather ugly bridge, all made of wire. It was around this part of the river that I noticed the tiny dinghy struggling upstream, occasionally getting twirled by strong river eddies. Walking back to the boat for lunch we overtook it. I hoped they wouldn't run out of petrol.










This lady was on the lawn the evening we got home.