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?
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