Lock and bog

I dropped Joe in Drumsna to bring the boat a little ways down while I went to Cavan to do a poetry reading at a bi-monthly event called At The Edge. Back the next day to join Joe in Rooskey, where we just made the lock before it stopped for lunch. Two barges went in before us, so it was touch and go.

It was at Rooskey that we discovered the new lock gates at Tarmonbarry didn't fit. The engineering company had come and measured up using fancy laser devices, went away and made the gates. Too small! You can see the effect of it here:

The water was pouring in beneath them the whole time we were going down in the lock, trying to fill it up again. Fortunately water was pouring out the other side just as quickly, the net effect allowing us to descend. To be honest the total time it took to get through the lock didn't seem much different to usual - this one is always slow for reasons that are generally to do with the lock keeper rather than the lock gates.

There was embarrassment before we went into the lock. We weren't long up, I was still drinking my first cup of tea when we decided to go for the first lock of the day. Two other boats were already treading water waiting for a boat to come up. For some mad reason I decided to go out nose first (I blame it on lack of tea), forgetting the eddy that had made it difficult to get into this spot in the first place. Got trapped against the bow of the hire boat in front of us.  I was mortified.

We got on the bikes at Lanesborough to cycle back to Tarmonbarry and the car. The road we took crossed a Bord na Mona working bog. A strange and peaceful world.

Next time we'll cross Lough Ree and almost be back in our own territory.

Going South

We left Belturbet to the sound of a power washer on the jetties opposite, the ones that used to belong to Emerald Star and are now a private marina. A very loud power washer. So loud it made us leave before breakfast. We wound our way up the River Erne to the junction where right takes you to Crom Castle and beyond and left takes you back to the Shannon-Erne Waterway. We were tempted by Crom. The sun was shining, and we sort of had time, but we resisted and turned left.

I dropped Joe at Ballyconnell where a bus would take him back to Belturbet and the car, and met him again at the next lock - didn't fancy trying a lock on my own, though I suppose it's feasible as they have ladders. Then it was on to Garadice Lough and Haughton's Shore. Joe took the car again. Last time we'd stopped in Haughton's Shore in vile weather it was full and we had to tie off someone else. This time it was earlier in the week and earlier in the day.

Joe phoned to say there was one space left. The pressure was on. I fretted all the way along the Woodford River. As I approached the final bridge before the turn into the harbour a hire boat came towards me. Did this mean it was already full? Damn.

It didn't. My space was still there. In we slipped, Winter Solstice and I. Then it was car to Ballinamore for the next stage, bikes on the back for the return cycle. I was hoping I'd make it OK as I've had this wretched knee ligament injury.

I did. Joy! Only a bit of rain. No wind. And photo op as we neared home - Garadice in the evening.

Actually Joe had the photo idea first.

And here we are back at the boat.

Next morning we woke to thick fog, but you could see the sun was going to burn it off. We left as soon as we could see well enough and crossed the flat calm lake. And into the gorgeous Woodford River again.

A land of kingfisthers and high tree-lined banks.

This was at Lock 5 - Ardrum - a very deep lock. It was good to come up out of it and see daylight again.

A hot day. Unbelievable. This called for an anchor drop for lunch. There's a small lake called Kiltybarden just off St John's Lough south of Ballinamore. It takes a small leap of faith (well, tiny really) to find it - I called for back-up from the crew who wasn't impressed as he was scraping paint off the deck (a very long-term project) and couldn't see what the fuss was about. 'There's the markers' (you eejit was implied). 'Wrong markers though!' I could say in triumph. 'That's the way we came.'

We found it easily enough really, but turned and came back to a little spot between St John's and Kiltybarden where it was sunny and sheltered.

And I had my first swim! What bravery, swimming off the boat in weather that, although warm, was certainly not sweltering. Down the ladder into the black depths, kicking off into the freezing waters, barely surviving the temperature. Ahem. Get a grip here. And admit. I put on the wet suit. Yes I know that's pathetic, and I only did it because there was no-one around to see except the crew and the dog. But at least I got into the water.

Next stop Keshcarrigan. This time I got a photo of this lad:

Isn't he magnificent?

This tells you all you need to know:

We left the boat in Drumsna for a couple of days. Back tomorrow for the next stage back to Lough Derg.

Enniskillen Beckett Festival & back to Mountshannon

This was the theatre space for Stirrings Still, Beckett's last prose piece. Doesn't look like the usual for a thespian venue, does it? We were picked up by a bus just outside the castle in Enniskillen for a 45 minute journey to a secret location. Isn't it astonishing how anything secret, even when you're grown up, is more enticing than something you know about?

Off we went, following Lower Lough Erne towards Enniskillen, watching the clock to see were we close, trying to guess where we were going. At least that's what I was doing. Was it going to be Belleek? No. The bus passed the pottery factory and out the other side, passing through a bit of the Republic on the way. It's years since I was there on the boat. Looks pretty much the same.

The signposts were telling us we were on our way back to Enniskillen by the time we turned off, the bus squeezing through great stone gateposts into the grounds of Castle Caldwell. The building in the photo is right beside the jetty where we'd stopped a couple of times on the boat.

Up the stairs into the chill of the derelict building. Actor Ian McIlhinney was sitting in a room within the room, playing the part of a man watching himself rise and go. His pre-recorded voice read Beckett's words. It was extraordinarily moving and very cold. Thank goodness I'd gone in my usual state of over-preparedness for the Irish summer.

Our last day in Enniskillen. We'd spent the night on the jetties at the Ardhowen Theatre where there was a contemporary dance event (weird and wonderful). We trolled off to the Round O in the rain, needing to hook up to electricity to charge the phones (inverter caput). As we sat there in the now driving rain and many-miles-an-hour winds, we noticed the bandstand in the park beside the Round O. Here it is:

The cars form a protective barrier against the weather, the one facing us with the boot up. The people in blue are the brass band. You have to hand it to them. No audience, vile vile weather, and still they turn up for duty.

It finally stopped raining as we came into Carrybridge. We'd already decided the only thing to do in such weather would be go to the hotel for dinner. They do a mighty steak and chips, and a sublime panna cotta for desert.

Next day we paused in the tranquility of Trial Bay and played a few tunes. Warmth. No wind. Sunshine.

And back to Mountshannon. Weather wild again, but at least it had warmed up a bit. People were daring themselves as the waves jumped onto the pathways.

This week it's been trad. The Feakle Festival is on and we're off playing tunes in the pubs.

Back to the boat next week.

Going North to the Erne

This was taken at Ballyconnell before the rains started in earnest. That's real clover on the top. The cockpit is green too, but I don't think it's real grass. A dotey little boat.

And then things started to look like this:

I was outside for the next lock. I got absolutely drenched. It was too windy for an umbrella and I hadn't taken the precaution of the Drizabone ankle-length coat and Tilley hat.

We made it to Houghton's Shore on Garadice Lough in windy weather, quite late. It was full. Ended up tying against a Freeman that had nobody on board. Wind and rain all night, but in the morning it was better. We became lurkers, waiting for someone to leave so we could take their space. In the end they all went at once so we had a choice. Here we are against the wall.

The Waterways Ireland vessel Inishendra was busy at work. It came and parked on the slip while they had a cup of tea (I assume), then out to plant a new marker.

And finally to Belturbet, getting there mid-afternoon. It lashed for the rest of the day and most of the night. We played tunes, read, took the dog out struggling with umbrellas (she wasn't impressed) and finally went to bed. It was still raining.

But in the morning it stopped and things began to look up. There were fisherman floating around outside the boat in blow-up armchairs.

Then Crom Castle in sunshine, and Tirraroe, a name I always remember as Tiramasu. This is where we met the harbour dog again - a very matted but sweet sheepdog that divides its time between Knockninny and Tirraroe.

The reason we stopped here was because we needed to cycle to Derrylin for emergency butter. Hillier than we thought.

And Enniskillen and the ducks on the jetty. This one was trying to get in the boat.

At the moment we're at the Lough Erne Yacht Club (WiFi!). We'd planned a trip out to Lusty Beg on the Broad Loch, but it's too windy, and the small dog is very wobbly on her legs these days. She'd probably be in bits if we tried for it.

The RNLI went out as I was walking Aoife this morning. Someone had gone onto rocks near Lusty Beg. They were off again, but the RIB went out anyway to check they were OK. Not clear if it was wind or a wrong turn that put them on the rocks.

Anyway, we'll head back to Enniskillen where the Happy Days Beckett festival has just started. Beckett was a pupil at Portora Schoool between 1920 and 1923 (boaters know Portora for the sluice and lock on the way from Enniskillen to Lower Lough Erne). We've had a bit of sunshine this morning. Maybe it'll warm up a bit too.

What you can catch with a banana

Back to Leitrim Village the other day to the boat on the wall. Sunshine! A glorious evening. Better weather here than in Clare I think.

Pointing in the right direction and ready to go.

It's a few years since we were last on the Shannon-Erne Waterway. It was good to be back. There were swallows nesting behind the lock gates in the first lock (Lock 16). They must spend a good bit of the day worried and frustrated at these pesky boats destroying their peace and changing their landscape as the lock gates closed.

Lovely calm waters as I wait for Joe to empty the lock - set against us. Locks 16 and 15 were open and in I sailed with Winter Solstice (metaphorically of course). How come that is? Where did the boat come from that did that?

Suddenly the waters weren't calm. Rather wished I'd tied up. The boat suddenly wanted to be in the bank on the other side.

But in we went at last. Lock doors closing.

Joe took this one as I came into the lock at Kilclare, just before he cycled back to Leitrim.

I cycled along the tow path (trackway?) for several locks - they're all close together here, then Joe pedalled back to Leitrim for the car and I carried on to Keshcarrigan. We weren't going to stop there - it's always seemed a bit bleak - but in the sunshine it was more promising. We tied up the quay wall (good for the barbecue we were going to have) and made a cup of tea. A Swiss family on a hire boat were trying to catch the evening dinner with string, a hook and a banana as bait. They had a bite! Something down below was coming up! A plastic chair. Yummy.

Later, we cycled into the village - I hadn't realised how pretty it is. A very well cared for place, even though the village shop and the pizza place have closed.

This morning we moved again to the jetty that still had some electricity available - only being tidy using it up. Time to hoover up the dog hairs and charge the devices. Rain.

Here's Winter Solstice in hoovering position. The chair / fish hooked out yesterday takes pride of place in the foreground.

Time to go. The rain has stopped, the boat is hoovered (thank you Joe). Ballinamore next.

Boat uncovered, ready to go (at last)

Long time no blog. It's been a bit of a tumultuous year so far, and boating didn't come into it. My father was sick, then died, we sold our old house and had to move out, and the new house was only partly ready. Thank heavens for the camper van.

But we finally got back up to Winter Solstice for a proper trip away last week. We'd unwrapped her from her winter covers a couple of weeks before, so we were ready to leave Albert Marina and hit the river.

We didn't get far on the first night - Drumsna just round the corner - but the second night we went all the way to Dromod, ooh, about an hour away. It was getting breezy as we headed south, but of course this is nothing like traversing Lough Derg or Lough Ree. OK the Shannon widened into Lough Bofin and Lough Boderg, but they're sweet little lakes with only a small chop on them.

Dromod Harbour was packed and getting packed-er. There was a small marquee / large gazebo set up on the grass beside the harbour wall which was the clue. The Boyle River branch of the IWAI were having a barbecue.

We took our chance and turned sharply into the old harbour while there was still space, tucking in neatly down at the end.

The big boats were still coming in, rafting up against each other, then smaller ones tying to the entrance wall, then a couple more fitting in at the entrance to the old harbour. Dromod's always busy but I've never seen it this busy.

And still the wind rose, rocking Winter Solstice gently, like being in a cradle. Then the foam started to form. It's that thing that happens in peaty water - the small river at our old house foamed up like a bubble bath after heavy rain, and the wind was doing the same job here.

Then escape to the tranquility of Lough Key Forest Park via Clarendon Lough.

With its beautiful weir.

The Forest Park is very different these days of course, with its new building, activities for all the family and new jetties with electricity and so on. We pulled in there first, just to see, but tranquility there wasn't. There's a small ship on the river, a liveaboard, and they were sharing their music with the rest of the marina. Mm, lovely. We bought ice creams and hot boated it over to Drumman's Island. Phew.

I don't think we've ever stopped at this end of the jetty before - it's always been taken, and now I know why.

The island is not as populated as it used to be before the new jetties. There were three of us on it the first night, two the second.

But can you beat an evening of looking at this.

Finally to Leitrim Village where we had dinner at the Marina Hotel. This was a first, the hotel having been at various stages closed or suffering a poor reputation. It wasn't half bad, the evening being helped by meeting old friends from Enniskillen and sharing a table.

We left the boat against the wall in Leitrim, ready for the next stage. Back again next week and up the Shannon-Erne Waterway to the north.

Floating Tea Pot

We were cycling in Nantwich, Cheshire on a misty morning last week, about to get onto the towpath of the Shropshire Union Canal. It was busy - Easter holidays and boats were on the move. This one was about to pass below us as we watched from the Marsh Lane Bridge.

We were beginning to think of coffee, maybe stopping at the Basin End (renamed Nantwich Harbour or some such) where there's a small café, or going back along Welsh Row into town. But suddenly before us was a boat that made us pull up sharp and lay down our bikes on the grass beside the path.

My word, just the ticket! In we climbed, lifting the protective polythene over the entrance (this being an unreliable climate) and going down the steps into the long cabin of the narrow boat. It was warm and cosy, and someone was in the galley at the end.

That's the galley at the end - it's all dark in the photo, but Ray was in there starting the coffee.

Here's the boat in the other direction.

We had one of those conversations you usually have in Ireland where you find lots of people you know in common. Ray spent years coming to Ireland fishing with his mates, staying up around Lough Ree to fish the Inny, Dromod and Rooskey, or in Abbeyshrule on the Royal Canal where my friend grew up. Ray knew my friend's uncle (of course), and many of the places we've spent days on Winter Solstice.

You can see more about this boat and its restoration on the Tea Junction website. An interesting story.

After our coffee and conversation we cycled up to the next bridge.

Then the one after that and onto the road where the traffic was completely mad. Much nicer to be on a bike, or even better on a boat on the canal.