Irish Canoe Classics

My, time flies – it is now May, I have been over to  N. Ireland, and I have not yet finished writing up the April trip!

I travelled up the Blackwater valley on March 31st – lovely river and scenery, and met two Gardai, who warned me that camping on the river would be challenged, and that the Fermoy to Lismore stretch was heavily guarded due to European Protected Species (so what, we paddle these areas in Scotland?). However, they didn’t say “don’t paddle”.

I spent the next day working my way back to Tony’s house at Maynooth via the Slaney (lovely little river), and the Barrow – see why it’s popular! The day after I looked at both of the main canals, the Grand out to Tullamore, and the Royal to Mullingar.

So, lots of mileage, lots of photos, lots to think about.

Between May 1st and 5th, I travelled over to N. Ireland with Mike Dales, our SCA Access and Environment Officer, on a trip paid for by a donor for us to find out about how the Irish were tackling Canoe Trails, and their infrastructure and maps and guides. A full account will appear in ‘Scottish Paddler’ due out in July this year, but we had a great time, real hospitality, great practical help (boats lent to us everywhere), and really helpful information. There are currently four trails; Lough Erne, Lower Bann, Lough Neagh, Blackwater, and a fifth to come, Strangford Lough.

We arrived at Belfast international on the Thursday night, and on Friday 2nd, met two colleagues at Toome, and paddled the first part of the Lower Bann. Then saw various points on Lough Neagh (large sheet of water!), and followed the Armagh Blackwater all the way down, lovely little river. After spending the Friday night near Castlewellan, we paddled Strangford on the Saturday, bit of a shock to me after so long away from sea paddling! The inner lough was fine, although the tide runs fast, but the Narrows were running at about 7 knots. A bit interesting in the afternoon, with wind against tide on the ebb.

Then we trekked over back west to Fermanagh, to stay two nights with Rob Henshaw, he of four circumnavigations of Ireland (kayak, wind surfer, dinghy, Drascombe), and a recent transatlantic sail. A day and a half on upper Lough Erne – fantastic! – the account and photos will appear in the book, but really superior touring canoe territory.

Since then – a weekend canoe sailing on Coniston, Lake District, and last weekend the Scottish Island Peaks Yacht race – life is just sooo busy!

Well, we’re back, we’ve been to Ireland, paddled the Cork Blackwater (and a lot more) and survived it!

It’s interesting that in 17 days in Ireland (north and south), travelling 2,000 miles, and having been in 26 counties out of the 32, we saw no open canoes on cars, and only 2 vehicles with sea kayaks on.

I wanted to get the Blackwater experience down quickly so that anybody might make comments on it.

The start of the story was in early April when I went up from Waterford for a day to see if there were any obvious difficulties. I had paddled the river as a teenager in either 1964 or 65, on a family holiday when my younger brother and I joined an organised holiday party, run by an Irish company. The Blackwater was obviously at that time both a major river, and a very likely contender for the most popular in Ireland – so what happened? I had tried internet sites during the last year, but found only fishing sites – ominous? I had also spoken to paddlers, e-mailed the ICU, and on this visit gone and spoken to both local people, and also tourist information offices, who had neither information, or knowledge.

(A note here – if we had been told that we couldn’t do something, according to Irish law, we would have respected it – i.e. ‘when in Rome…’ )

At Lismore I met two Guards who were looking into a theft from a car the night before. We chatted for a bit, and they soon told me, not that one could not paddle on the river, but that the area was heavily ‘preserved’, and that camping on the banks was not on – they said that people at night had been removed by them if the landowners (mainly Lismore Estate) accused them of poaching (this being by either people from Cork City, or travellers).

They looked a little bemused about canoeing on the river, but their advice was that it was vehicle parking, plus walking on the land without permission that caused problems. They advised paddling straight through, and only stopping on public land.

So, on Monday June 16^th, I met with both Tony, my Irish companion, and three friends from Scotland, at the cottage they had rented for the week at Ballyhooly, between Mallow and Fermoy. Our plan was to do a day above Mallow (this turned out to be right – the river was at a June low, and only possible from Banteer at the highest, (24 km, 16 miles), a day from Mallow to Fermoy, both easy towns to launch from, (33 km, 20.5 miles), and then a long day to go down from Fermoy to Cappoquin (35 km, 22 miles), as I had already determined that both Ballyduff Bridge, and Lismore bridge, on this stretch were impossible to reach the river from.

So, how did we get on? Well, before my moans, let’s recount the good points;

• All the local people we met were very friendly and helpful, and interested in these strange craft (very few had ever seen an open canoe).
• The only people we met who were actually angling (four in all!) were OK.
• There were no ‘No Canoeing’ signs.
• We called in at the campsite at Fermoy, the only one on the river, and the owner was both helpful, and very interested in having more canoeists – he said he had a small trickle of people paddling calling at his site.
• Tourist information at Fermoy (closed when I called in April) is run from a fishing tackle shop by an English woman! She was asking for more trade in the valley, and hinted that the area was a bit backward in many ways – the outdoor activities brochure she had for Kerry and Cork has a white water kayaker on the cover!
• The only points on the river where there is fly fishing (you can see by the strimmed banks) are very limited (out of 92 km!) – 400m at Ballymaquirk bridge at the start, about 800m. between Killavullen and Ballyhooly, and then a few km (2 or 3?), around Ballyduff.

However, we met a real jobsworth at Ballymaquirk Bridge at the start, and all of us were disgusted that this guy, from Yorkshire, kept talking about ‘my river’, ‘my country’ etc. He was a disgrace. Basically, he told us to bugger off, and kept harassing us. (We ended up ignoring him, and refused to talk after a few exchanges).

Amongst the things he said, either to us directly, when three of us were waiting for the other two to do the car shuttle, or to my wife, who luckily had driven them back, and was not leaving a car there (she stayed on the bridge to take photos) were;

• This was a private river, and he ran that part for the landowner.
• We would disturb fishing for the whole day (no one was fishing).
• He got rid of canoeists by persecuting them, and eventually they got the message.
• It wasn’t an idea to leave vehicles there – they got damaged (we knew already).
• We were disturbing the gravel in the river (no, we did not), and there were salmon eggs there (no, there wasn’t, this was June!), and this was an offence.
• ‘Strangers’ were not welcome in these parts - they wanted no visitors (apart from anglers paying to fish, presumably).
• Canoeing is an extremely environmentally unfriendly activity.

Apparently, as we set off, he used his mobile phone to contact two mates downriver – we met no one (in fact, in three days on the river, we met no one!).

So, it appears for a few measly kilometres of river, if that, one person can frighten off part of the tourist trade, in an area that is palpably poorer than many parts of Ireland, and get away with it!

The river is absolutely beautiful, well worth it, not built up at all.

So, what do you think?

I had met Tony Monaghan, who was to become my co-author, in Kerry, and he came over to Wales for the Open Canoe Symposium last October, held on Lake Bala. The U.K. has a meet every year, shared around between England, Wales and Scotland, and entirely run by volunteers. Wales was eventful – abused by anglers during two days on the Welsh Dee (beautiful river), and then lots of epics on the Tryweryn on the Sunday.

We met again at Christmas 07 in England, to look at maps, and plan the book, the sections, and how to go out and paddle them! (I should of course add that Franco from Pesda had agreed to the idea of the new book).I flew over on March 27th, picked up a car, stayed with Tony at his house in Maynooth, west of Dublin, and we set out the next day to paddle the Suir (tandem, in Tony’s boat)and the Nore, two rivers I had never seen. The other objective was to prospect the Blackwater, and for me to work my way back to Dublin and look at some other waterways.

I should add that Tony is a mad Ray Mears fan, and a very skilled lightweight camper, and this will be highlighted in the book.

Well, what would we find? Would my vague memories from long ago be accurate? Would half-heard stories about access difficulties be correct? What would the weather be like? We headed fast down the motorway to Cork into Tipperary.

Well, we passed the astonishing Rock of Cashel, and having looked at the river at Thurles and downstream, and finding it just too shallow, headed in to Cahir to look for a launch point. Cahir is very scenic, but an impossible weir, and sheer castle walls, and nowhere to park made life difficult. Going further downstream, hoping we would not be pushed too far south, we found, using the OS map, a delightful place kept by the Office of Public Works, Swiss Cottage ( no idea why the house is famous as yet), with a great launch point, and a car park.

Ok, so what about finishing – we drove down to Carrick, via the very busy Clonmel by-pass, this lower valley now quite highly populated, and left the car (all the details in the book).
At last, on the Friday afternoon, on the river! Fast, brown water, lush banks, spring flowers, no one in sight, and lots of small obstructions, easy rapids, little villages, old castles, and a new river. We camped that night on the bank, against a wall of obviously an old estate grounds, with car lights the other side of the river – in the morning, torrential rain, and a horrible high wind for a few hours. Waiting until the wind died down, we paddled in a more steep-sided wooded valley , and then finally into Clonmel, being welcomed by the friendly rowing club and skiffs whizzing by.

The steep weir was a right laugh, the obvious left side for a short portage blocked by trees. We finally managed it with Tony grabbing the canoe being paddled gingerly by me right on the lip of the weir, hauling me in, and then carrying down through the thicket at the side. Fast water followed, then the miles to Carrick, through pleasant countryside, more castles and grand houses, and a finish at the tidal limit.

The next day, the Nore! What would this bring?