Trouble with calculations

This probably looks like a considerable river, a waterway that will easily take a boat such as Winter Solstice. To an extent it was, in spite of the overhanging branches we scraped past, scattering leaves across the deck and putting the fear of god into the bicycles strapped to the pulpit at the bow.

We were making our way down this channel into a small marina designed for fishing boats. We'd been offered free berthage here if the boat would fit.

We got as far as this, thinking 'we could cut back some branches, it's doable'.

That's the channel we came up, right ahead. If you were to turn to the left you'd see this:

Nice isn't it? Looks very possible. However, it wasn't clear of boats when we came in. Actually, we knew that as we'd driven down to check. Tied against the jetty right where we needed to turn was this yoke:

So we went aground, pulled ourselves free, moved the rib, went aground, pulled ourselves free and finally reversed all the way down the long channel back to the Scarriff River where we'd began. We're wondering whether to try the second channel - for there are two ways in - that you see ahead of you in this pic. A bigger area to turn, and maybe deeper ....

So we need to be more careful, plan a little, use measuring devices. For we nearly got into trouble again last night. We were in Rossmore halfway up Lough Derg, a quiet spot but somewhat exposed when the wind gets up, which it did. Winter Solstice was tied up against Knocknagow, a very steady big steel boat, and was bucking around a bit. It was suggested that we might pull around the corner where the slip enters the water.

 We'd be sheltered here, on that wall you can see. Joe went to have a look. 'I'd say there's enough depth,' he said. We donned lifejackets, started the engines, discussed how to rope her round.

'But wait!' said our friend, Skipper of Knocknagow. 'Are you sure of this? Have you made calculations?' If we'd had him with us on the Scarriff River we would never have got into trouble. The tape measure appeared, we put in a pole to check the depth, worked out whether there was space.

We took off our lifejackets, turned off the engines, pulled up the ball fenders to stop them banging. I cooked dinner braced against the bathroom door.

The wind died before we went to sleep. Next morning Joe took the boat to Portumna while I took the car. Here he is pulling out:

Will we learn to calculate before we go? Probably not.

Yuppie shed

I don't know if there are any yuppies any more - very eighties - but this is how our new shed was described by a neighbour. Yuppie means young urban professional. I suppose the shed is young, so that fits. Urban - definitely not. Professional. Mmm. Depends on what goes on inside. Joe's workshop? My gardening stuff?

Anyway, we're very pleased with the shed, yuppie or not.

There's a drain that runs along the north of the property next to the road. Between the drain and the road is a stone wall. This lad seems to be living in the wall. I was delighted to see him/her.

 

It's a common Irish lizard, but the only place I've seen one before was in the Burren. This one was sizable - several inches long.

There are also ladybirds.

These are a rare sighting in our present garden. I love ladybirds. However, to have ladybirds, there must be aphids, and aphids are not good news for your garden plants. Even so, I think I'd go for the delight of the ladybirds.

I've started transplanting from here to there. I peeled back the polythene and dug over a patch. The soil is so very different. It was thick and black and like cutting through butter. Some big fat worms, which is a good sign. We'll have to see how things do. Here's the start:

The deer fence experiment is up too:

This is fishing line stretched between six-foot posts. Joe found all sorts of ideas online, particularly as used in Canada and the US where deer are a major problem. Apparently the deer don't see it, so when they touch it they get spooked and don't go near it again. This wouldn't work on their usual routes - they'd simply plough through - but in a new area it should do the trick.

The trees are just coming into leaf, so this will be the test time. No incursions as yet!

In the fenced area we planted spindle, crab apple, walnut, cob nut, guelder rose and hornbeam bought from the Celt tree nursery, and hazel saplings transplanted from the present garden. I've also put in two oak and a beech alongside the birch at the other end of the site. Two crab apple are not thriving, however. Not sure why. Enquiries are under way.

Wild flowers too. Primroses, cowslips, water avens, flag, meadow sweet, bluebells, wood anemone, purple loosestrife. Some of these are along the drain - I have an idea of making it a linear bog garden. Here's some primroses:

The only thing is the name. Drain. If this was another part of Ireland we could call it a ditch, which would be altogether less sewerage sounding, but in Clare the ditch is the bank around the field. Someone came up with 'cut' as in canal, and a canal is a type of drain too, so we'll see if that sticks. If any of my readers have other suggestions, do please say.

I put in 100 whitethorn (aka quickthorn, aka hawthorn) too along the bank (ditch) that borders the south of the site, dividing us from a drive to a house / the East Clare Way. It doesn't show up terribly well here, but you'll get the gist. They're all growing splendidly, but I'll have to keep the bracken under control until they're established.

 

It's tricky to know when to move plants to the new place. Our original sale on Gortavrulla fell through, the lovely people who were going to buy being unable to sell their house. We've had a couple of viewers since, and property here is definitely moving, but the more plants I shift, the more I'll have to keep two gardens on the go.

We have someone coming to look tomorrow, arriving from England on the night ferry. Uncertainty rules.

The Unwrapping, Garry and Terry

Easter Bank Holiday and the weather was looking good. Time for Winter Solstice to wake from her slumbers and get out of her bed clothes. First we took off the 'skirts' that cover the decks, taking care to fold them so the red (for port) and green (for starboard) were on display for that impossibly far off time called winter (I wish). To save the knees and ensure the shock cords that hold the covers on didn't drop into the water we pulled the boat round to attend to the port side. Then off with the doghouse cover. Himself looks very pleased with progress doesn't he?

Final folding ...

... and here she is:

It was getting on for evening so we didn't want to go far. Would it be Dromineer or Garrykennedy? Indecision! We tossed a coin, heads Garry, tails Dromineer. It was heads. Turn right and engines full on. Out past Hare Island and the waves were coming beam-on all the way from Scarriff Bay, so it took a bit longer than usual, into the waves and wind before turning once we reached the lee shore.

All the most sheltered berths at the land end of the jetties were taken, so we had a bit of a rocking going on. Lovely. And the view was great.

Look at that blue sky!

Next day we decided a cycle was in order as a few cobwebs picked up in Larkins Bar the night before needed blowing away.

'Let's go up the road beside the woodland walk,' said Joe.

'OK, but I'm sure it's a dead end,' said I. 

Bikes off the boat, gear on, faffing faffing, then away.

Then back to the boat for mobile phone (location map), and while I'm there the water bottle, oh, and a pump might be useful. 

The 'dead end', it turned out, was nothing of the sort, but was marked as a cycleway. Off we went up a bit of a hill to start us off, turned right, then right again, passing the sign saying no through road to traffic (ha! I was only seeing ahead of myself), walkers only, just to see. We thought we'd be turning back in five minutes, but no, on we went, fabulous views across the lake, a quiet winding road, and a puncture.

This puncture had been patched just before Joe put the bike on the car to bring it to the boat. That wasn't the first attempt to sort it but the third. You can imagine his mood. But I had a bicycle pump! Sadly, I'd not gone the one step further and put in the spare inner tube. Still, the tyre went up and Joe was already pedalling away so on we went to see where this road ended. So far the road was narrow but perfectly driveable. After another uphill the tyre was down again. Hills really did it. The pump experienced more action than ever before in its short life. I had to admire Joe's forbearance. We came out onto the main road to Portroe, passing several cars on the way. No idea what the no through road business is.

The lake was mill-pond flat, the sky was blue. It was time to head upriver to Terryglass. This is looking back towards Garry.

Garrykennedy is regularly called Garry, but I've never heard Terryglass called Terry. So I'll do it here. Terry was already busy when we arrived. We'd dropped anchor in Black Lough behind Illaunmore for lunch, so it was late afternoon. A nice space on the wall, though, in front of Dermot and Jacintha's Corncrake. 

We've a new way of keeping the small dog happy. This is her travel bed and she loves it:

Nothing like a bit of comfort for an old lady.

Somewhere for a cup of tea

You can judge the different quantities of traffic on the Irish canals compared to those in England by the size of the marinas - or at least the marinas on the Shropshire Union Canal in Cheshire. I was there with my parents last weekend, in search, as always, of a place for a little run out and a morning coffee. It has to be easily accessible as my mother has a dicky knee, and this place was just the business:

It even has a resident boating type with beard - a very nice fellow, whose companion had dodged out of the picture. In this building is a café, a reception area, noticeboard with boats for sale and so on, a small shop selling maps, guidebooks, the boating equivalent of bachelors' rations as found in country pubs in Clare.

The café was very good, even though it had a feel of the garden centre café about it. There is a phenomenon here that has spread around England, people visiting not to buy plants, or because they are on a boat, but for the restaurant experience. There's a huge garden centre near where my parents live that began as a tiny local nursery. It's just been taken over by Wyevale, and is in the process of getting not only bigger but less and less to do with gardens. The retail side has opened out to include Lakeland, Edinburgh Woollen Mill, shops selling clothes, shoes, cute things to put on your mantelpiece and so on. The plant bit just makes the coachfuls of visitors feel they're doing something outsidey.

I digress, as do the marinas. This one does have boats, lots of them, but many people, including us, come for the cup of tea and the view:

This one also has a water taxi - there it is in the photo with the blue frilled canopy. It takes anyone who wants to go the short distance to Audlem where it lets you out just below the lock to visit the pubs (very good, with excellent ale), or buy supplies other than bachelors' rations.

There is also a small caravan site - full, with two caravans and a camper. We know all about this diversification in Ireland, though not on the canals but beside the Shannon, and not in caravan sites but in the harbour carparks. We're all just travellers looking for somewhere to go.

One of these days Joe and I will take a narrowboat from somewhere like this and explore the English canals. Oh, I haven't said where this is. It's called OverWater Marina, and it's off Coole Lane near Nantwich. Coole Lane was a favourite when we went out hacking on our ponies as children, and it's been a favourite with Joe and I on bikes visiting the home place. Just off Coole Lane is the Secret Bunker, set up during the Cold War, but that's another story.

Slates and gates

Admittedly the weather's been shite a good bit of the time, but it's still taking much longer than expected to get this shed completed. I like our builder - he's friendly and helpful and full of promises. Anyway, once the blocks arrived they went up quickly enough. Not necessarily in a straight line, but they were up. The lintels weren't altogether on the same plane either, but who needs a door and window to look level? Being picky I think.

It was at this stage of the build, with both gables up and vulverable, that the Big Wind came. In the photo above you might be able to see a long piece of timber placed vertically against the gable with another pressed against it at an angle. This kept the gable safe until the roof went on.

And finally the slates - I was really pleased with the slates. This is what we'll have on the house too. They come from a quarry over near Portroe in Tipperary on the other side of the mountain we can see from the site.

When I say the slates come from the quarry near Portroe, they actually come from Spain. The Portroe quarry is who we pay and who delivers them. This is how things work, slate-wise.

All that's left now is the ridge tiles. Maybe tomorrow, the builder says. There have been good reasons all along why it couldn't be done today.

Bearing this in mind, Joe asked a friend to help him put in the doors and windows, so that job is done already.

It's beginning to look like a building.

And we have gates! This was another job the builder was going to do, but guess who put in the posts and hung the gates in the end?

What a clever dog!

Blocks and dogs

There are forever rainbows over our new site. Actually, there are forever rainbows because there's forever rain.

This is the concrete arriving for the slab for the big shed. I was surprised to see the way the builders transported the concrete - via the bucket on the digger, a surprisingly delicate operation.

And here's Aoife with her new friends. They all turn up to say hello.

Driveway, digger and the slab which forms the foundation for the big shed. And beyond, the winter view, the no-leaves-on-the-trees view across the lake to Tipperary.

Finally the neat and smooth concrete slab, ready and waiting for the next stage. So quickly there is concrete where there was boggy ground.

Work begins - blocks and blocklayer on site.

Windfalls

Wednesday afternoon, Joe in work in Limerick and the storm hit. Next time we'll take proper notice of orange/red weather warnings from Met Éireann. I had a call from Joe in the midst of it all when the eucalyptus trees were trying to touch their tips to the ground. 'I'm stuck the other side of Killaloe. Trees down. I'm on Séamie's phone.' Ah yes. Joe's phone was safe in its usual place on the counter in the kitchen.
'Don't go out,' he said. 'It's wild out here.' Normally this wouldn't have mattered but I was due to teach flute in the Community College in Scarriff. 'Cancel your classes,' said Joe. Looking at the trees still in supplication outside, I could see he was probably right. I went to my phone on the kitchen windowsill as a text came in. Electricity out in Scarriff. No lights in the classroom. Cancel the classes.

A while later Joe phoned again. 'Still here. They're working on the trees. No other way to get home - other lads have tried it. Trees down everywhere. Have to go, I'm on someone else's phone.'

I filled containers with water. The lights were flickering, I was expecting a power cut and that would mean the pump on our deep well would stop working.

When the wind abated slightly I thought I'd better go out with the loppers and clear any fallen branches/bits of debris for when he did manage to get back. All well til I turned the corner at Ryan's Bridge and then

Two big fir trees. Loppers not much use here. I headed up the other way - we have two ways in - and cut back a fallen gorse bush. He should be OK now.

It took him 2 3/4 hours to get home instead of the usual one. Students at the university were warned not to leave. Madness. Our broadband was down but we still had electricity. Amazing.

Next morning out with the chainsaw.

And ta dahh!

We got off lightly. The electricity people have done a lot of work on the infrastructure round us. We complained when they turned off the electricity for the day a few times over the last couple of years, but we're grateful now.

I'm doing this while we have a broadband onage - we're promised on and off outages for the next 48 hours.

Our storms have started having names. This one was Darwin. Welcome to a new world.