6th. August 2007. Day ten.

I could stretch. Stretch right out in the bed. An arm over here and a leg way over there. So different to a sleeping bag in a tent. This was The Hodson Bay Hotel and this was immense comfort. I lay awake for a few minutes thinking about it. I am well used to a double bed and have stayed in many comfortable hotels, but awaiting me in the immediate coming days were more nights in my sleeping bag, in my tent. Camping can be adventurous, and definitely serves a purpose. But this was a big double bed, in a fancy hotel, with the prospect of a big, even massive, breakfast served up to me. I lay there enjoying my comfort.

Eventually I made it down to the dining room and ate a huge breakfast. I wanted to bulk up for the day ahead. It was a regular situation on this expedition that I didn't know when I'd eat next, so when food was plentiful, I didn't hold back. After the cereal, grapefruit and fry I "Deirdred" the breakfast fare. I took two Danish pastries, bananas, two very fancy looking Yogurts and as my bought bread was stale by this stage, I asked a waitress for a few slices of bread! She dutifully brought me out bread, but unfortunately she had thoughtfully cut it in triangle-shaped halves. A lot of people would have cut their losses at this stage, and gone off with the bread, but I was thinking ahead. My plan was to use this bread for sandwiches covered in Heinz Sandwich Spread. Triangle-shaped halves would have yielded ridiculously small sandwiches so I asked the nice girl if there was any chance of a few whole slices. "Certainly Sir ", was the response and away she disappeared off to the kitchen, only to reappear moments later with a handful of whole slices! A result!

But even then, I wasn't finished. I had arrived down to this breakfast, prepared with military precision. I took out my empty plastic water bottle and filled it up from the milk tap over by the cereals. At this stage, even the manager-looking concierge type was somewhat bewildered. I gave him a big smile. Then I took out my 15 cent squashed-up wrinkled plastic bag and loaded all my provisions into it. On the way out of the room, the manager-type was at the door. In case there were any issues with raiding the breakfast spread, I went on the offensive and before he had a chance to say anything I loudly and confidently announced to him - "That was a terrific breakfast. Well done! ". Taken aback, he smiled and nodded his head as I marched out the door. Definitely a breakfast to remember. A certain Deirdre would have been proud of me.

Back in my room I changed into my kayaking clothes and packed all my belongings into the only bags I had - a range of plastic refuse sacks. In fairness they were different colours, so that gave me some sense of style and panache. I had a bag for clothes, one for my sleeping bag, one for my ground mat, one for my tent, one for my provisions, and another as my day-bag. Travelling by water, the refuse sacks were good for keeping my belongings reasonably dry. Along with my paddle, there was far too much for me to carry and I didn't want to waste energy making a number of trips. I rang the reception and asked for a Porter. The porter arrived minutes later, complete with his tall gold-coloured trolley. He was a little surprised when he saw my luggage, but we packed it up onto the trolley and headed for the lift.

The receptionist was dealing with a customer so I waited behind them, holding my 7-foot paddle. The paddle attracted some attention, with my attire of shorts and life-jacket, in this plush hotel, getting some more. More people arrived to check out so a bit of a queue developed. When it came my turn to check-out the receptionist was extremely professional and didn't show any surprise at my rig-out. With the business complete and bill paid, she could hold out no longer. She politely asked if I had "far to go". When I told her I was hoping to go to Limerick she expressed considerable admiration, but when I told her I had just come from the top of the Shannon she was enthralled and said back to me "You've come all the way from the top of the Shannon and are going all the way to Limerick? That's a fantastic trip! ", all said in a loud enough voice for everybody behind me to hear. It was like she felt duty-bound to tell all the nearby guests of the trip, in a very friendly way. I could hear the surprise from the people behind me. I'm sure I beamed with pride. When I turned around they were all smiling and nodding at me. Some wished me good-luck. I was delighted as I left the building, followed by my porter and my collection of different coloured refuse sacks.

The porter asked and chatted about the trip as I packed the kayak. Then he helped me carry it down to the water. It was a sunny day and calm on the lake - ideal for kayaking. I left the Hodson Bay Hotel - the haven for weary travellers, in all its luxury, with its polite and friendly staff, and vast breakfast fare. When planning the logistics of the trip, I had been extremely disappointed when I rang the hotel and was told that they would not store any bags for me. I explained about the expedition, hoping to leave clean clothes with them, but rules were rules - no bags. On hanging up from that telephone conversation I had decided that I wouldn't stay at the hotel - I'd bring my business elsewhere, even if that meant to a tent! I was glad that I hadn't been stubborn about that decision. Flexibility, forgiveness, and probably near exhaustion had brought me around. I was so glad I had chosen to ignore that bureaucratic adherence to policy over the bags. On this glorious, crisp and sunny morning, the Hodson Bay Hotel had been forgiven. A plastic bag full of goodies was testament to that. Good on ya' Hodson!

I headed off and passed down through Athlone town, going under the various bridges, including the big white railway bridge. I had driven past this large landmark many times so it was interesting to see it from this river perspective. I got to the lock in Athlone and whatever way I happened upon it, or whatever I had been looking at before it, I just noticed the lock gates open so I upped my pace and belted into the lock before the gates closed. I had visions of the lock gates closing to bring boats upriver from the other side, and I didn't want a long and cold wait.

The lock-keeper wasn't one bit impressed and let me have it! There had been a queue of boats near the lock, which I had been oblivious to. Memories of a previous dressing-down from a lock-keeper came back. I tried to keep a straight face for my scolding. I know that from my position, low down in the water, you don't always see what's going on with the big boats. Nor did I really care. Everything moves slowly enough so I wasn't in any danger from them and I knew that I was small enough to manoeuvre to facilitate the big boats - which is what ultimately happened anyway. I let her give out, without giving any explanation or arguing the point. With that off her chest she went about her business much happier. Welcome to Athlone!

I grabbed a chain by the lock wall and waited for the other boats to come in. There were so many of them that I was asked to move between two boats. That was no problem with me and I dutifully obliged.



With four days of kayaking on the river, I was now extremely comfortable with my mode of transport. It was the people on the boats who were doing all the worrying about me! As they held their ropes to keep them secure in the lock, they repeatedly asked me if I was OK. I was delighted and impressed by their concern.

Once we were all in and secure, the lock-keeper's attitude changed and she chatted affably about the trip. She even advised me to get going as quickly as possible when the gates opened and to take care for the rest of the journey. I shot out the gates, to the relief of the boaters, and paddled out into open water and down the wide river. The rest of the town, with it's riverside apartments and moored boats provided some interest but then I was quickly back to ordinary river and miles upon miles of reeds. And more reeds. With the odd cow.


Slowly but surely I made my way to Clonmacnois, down past the right-hand sides of both Long Island and Inchinalee. By the time I got to Clonmacnois it was raining. It was lunchtime so I pulled my kayak up onto the grass and went to the visitor centre. Walking up to it I was tired and wet. I had no intention of doing a tour of the place, dressed like this, wet and hungry. However, a girl at the desk said access to the restaurant and toilets was for paying visitors only, and not "normally open to the general public ". I was tempted to say that I don't "normally kayak down the Shannon ". Instead I looked her straight in the eyes and told her I was "particularly stuck", in a desperate kind of a way, and she let me through without a ticket! I changed into dry clothes in the toilets and made my way to the restaurant where I had a bowl of soup and fabulous lasagne for lunch. Looking at the maps over lunch, I reckoned that I'd be able to make it to Banagher that evening so I rang the B&B and booked myself in.



Back in the kayak the rain had stopped so I carried on down the river. I passed a multitude of reeds and Devenish Island.


I was surprised how quickly I came to Shannonbridge. This location held some fond memories for me. In years past, friends and I regularly jumped off the bridge into the river. It's thirty feet from bridge to water so quite a drop. I stopped at the bridge and had one of the fancy yogurts from the hotel, spending some time recollecting the various incidents when jumping that bridge. The memories of us laughing when people got it wrong came flooding back.


I pushed on under the bridge, into a large left-hand turn, and then on a long, boring section of river, with nothing to see but reeds and water. I met where the river Blackwater enters the Shannon, followed by Lehinch Island and on past the Grand Canal junction with the Shannon. Another long boring stretch of river and the distinctive Banagher Bridge came into view.


This was welcome relief, not from tiredness, but from the boredom. There's very little changes on the river when you travel at my speed, at my level on the water.

John had been to Banager the day before and had suggested places to park up. This was extremely helpful and his description of the place was positively accurate. I quickly found the small bank of grass and easily got of the kayak.


I was even able to lock the kayak to the wire mesh holding the grass bank in place.

John had taken this photo the day before to show me exactly what it was like!

It was 6:25pm. I walked the short distance (600m) to the B&B and was shown to a comfortable room. Once I had my bearings I made a couple of trips to and from the kayak and got my belongings to the B&B. That evening I took a short walk up the town, but as I wasn't in the humour for a pint there wasn't much to see other than a couple of boy-racers roaring up and down the town in their noisy cars. Seeing the same people drive by over and over again was all a bit odd. I made a few phone calls and then went back to the B&B. There was nobody in the B&B so I watched television for a couple of hours before going to bed.

The 43km I had travelled that day had taken a bit out of me so I studied my maps carefully and developed a plan. I was nervously nearing the great and dangerous infamous Lough Derg. Tomorrow I would be out into its vast waters, which having been warned so much of, troubled me somewhat. Looking at the days and the distance involved, and also being aware that it would suit Marie if I got to Limerick on Friday, I calculated that I could break up the journey into four very manageable sections. Banager to Terryglass 26km, to Dromineer 20km, to Killaloe 21km and to Limerick 23km. Good plan. I was relieved at this, knowing that it was all very achievable, would break up the looming dangerous lake, and would give me time and space to take it easy and concentrate on enjoying the trip.

I love a plan. I love my sleep. The plan was prepared. The sleep came easy.