7th. August 2007. Day eleven.

Another day and another big fry. I ate as much as possible in the Banagher B&B, and then headed downtown to get some provisions. Back at the B&B I packed up my bags and made a few trips to the kayak which was safe and secure at the water's edge. It was a nice sunny morning, with just a few clouds in the sky. I paddled off out of Banagher and down the river, passing Inishee island on my right. As before, there was very little to see other than river water, reeds and a few trees along the bank.


I came to Meelick and went down through Victoria (Meelick) Lock. I passed Friar's Island, Big Island, and further down, Ballymacegan Island.


Just before Long Island, I stopped at the side of the river and got out on the bank at a rocky location for a break. Although it was sunny, I quickly got cold so had to put my jacket on. Looking at the Shannon Navigation Chart, I could see that the marked navigational way for boats was to the right hand side of Long Island and the following Portland Island, but the map was showing that the river section to the left seemed to be reasonably wide. Out of sheer boredom I decided to try that route.

Back in the kayak, I paddled off and went left at Long Island. The red and black navigational marker signs were screaming at me to go the conventional route! However, my inner voice was saying "Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." Such excitement, such carefree reckless endangerment ….. yes I had been getting extremely bored. But what would this new trail bring? Adventure? Danger? Peril? No. Reeds. Lots and lots of reeds. Plenty of water, no danger, no problem, a wide river, and eventually back rejoining the main river again. And on and on I went.


A close up for an appreciation of reeds .....



After some time I got to Portumna Bridge and this was a welcome break from the boredom of the river. I have no doubt the river is a much more interesting place if you can go at the speed of a powered boat, but at my speed and with my limited vantage point dealing with the boredom became quite a significant challenge. I had to remind myself over and over that taking on an expedition had to involve dealing with challenges and, although I hadn't expected it, boredom was certainly up there.



Portumna Bridge was another bridge where I had spent some time, in years past, jumping into the river. It's not as high as other jumping bridges but a good starting off point! I recalled a time when we were jumping and a photographer, who happened to be in the area, got a nice picture of me doing a back-flip! It was good to see the bridge again.


There was nowhere to stop and exit from the kayak at Portumna Bridge so I paddled on, heading for the treacherous Lough Derg. Now, just minutes from the Lough, fond memories of fooling about jumping off bridge with good friends faded. My greatest fear was looming.


A demon, which had been developed within me by those who knew the lake, was awakening. All down the Shannon I was met with surprise from boaters on hearing I was to go down Lough Derg. They warned me of its dangers. I had tried to simply ignore the warnings for I had no other option but to travel down the lake. I couldn't divert by other rivers, I couldn't walk or cycle around it. It was too late to change the plans. I had no option. But of course I did have an option. I could abandon the trip. It was potentially too dangerous. I knew nothing of this lake and those who did gave grave warnings. People do foolish things, people drown and we ask why people do foolish things. I could call a halt to the trip.

"The more improbable the situation and the greater the demands made, the more sweetly the blood flows later in release from all that tension. The possibility of danger serves merely to sharpen his awareness and control. And perhaps this is the rational of all risky sports: You deliberately raise the ante of effort and concentration in order, as it were, to clear your mind of trivialities. It's a small scale model for living, but with a difference: Unlike your routine life, where mistakes can usually be recouped and some kind of compromise patched up, your actions, for however brief a period, are deadly serious. " - A.Alvarez.

I had to decide. The demon was awake. Thoughts of letting the demon win over were unpleasant.

I paddled on. Smoothly and quietly I approached the lake.


I was exiting the mouth of the river, into the wide open lake. It was huge.

To let the demon win would have been more crushing and detrimental to me than all the benefits from taking on this expedition's challenge. I don't like to give in. There was no option. I paddled on, into the belly of the beast. Adrenalin flowed and I was as strong now as I have possibly ever been in my life. My arms pulled the paddle through the water with confidence and determination. My decision to take on the lake, in spite of all its misgivings drove me forward. The lake got wider and wider and each paddling stroke brought me out from the river-mouth's confines. The lake was enormous. I surged out into it.

The change in conditions was immediately noticeable. A small wind was lifting waves a foot high. The kayak bobbed and bounced over them. I had to travel two and a half kilometers across open water to get to Terryglass. The water, as far as I could see in front of me, was manageable. I hoped it didn't get any worse and I pressed on. As I passed the one-kilometer wide entrance to Carrigahorig Bay I was almost a kilometer from land in any direction. The waves were threatening but capsizing here just wasn't an option - it was too dangerous. I focused on Terryglass harbour in front of me and paddled hard. The minutes passed and the land got closer. The waves became smaller. I was almost there. More paddling and with constant rhythmic effort I entered Terryglass Harbour. I was safe.

I was relieved. I had started what might be a significant battle with the infamous Lough Derg, and I had reached, unscathed, to Terryglass. My relief wasn't as much that I was safe - I think the survival instinct expects that as a minimum, but relieved that I had taken on the lake. I was glad to be in the fight.

I got out of the kayak and looked for a suitable place to camp. There was loads of people around, which was good in ways, but the only place I could find for the tent was a very public area of grass beside the harbour. It would suffice but I wanted better. I went for a short stroll. I could see a quieter area a little way off. I had to go through a builder's compound and then over a fence. Here was a lovely quiet harbour, with nobody in it but just a collection of some very smart boats. There was an area of well-kept mown grass - perfect for the tent. So why was this so quiet? Further exploration explained all. Just at the entrance to the harbour was a clear sign "Private Harbour ". I gave it five seconds thought and concluded this would definitely be nice and private for me!

I went back and got into the kayak. As I paddled out of the public harbour back into the lake I saw a swan moving off with her young. The following photo gives an idea of the dramatic difference in water conditions from the river to the lake - allowing for the fact that the photo was taken near the relatively sheltered Terryglass harbour:


I paddled around to the Private Harbour and found a small slip-way. I dragged the kayak up onto the mown grass and started sorting out my equipment. A man walked around the corner and we acknowledged each other. He walked down to the boats and looked at a few of them. On his way back I was looking at him, hoping he wasn't going to throw me out of this perfect setting. In a friendly way he asked me "if I was going far? ". I didn't need much encouragement and told him all about my trip. He was fascinated, chatted about it for a while and then headed off wishing me well. By the end of our conversation I suspected he was as much a trespasser here as I was!

I changed into dry respectable clothes and headed off up to Terryglass village, about half a kilometer away. I didn't put my tent up as I didn't want to draw attention to my presence in the private harbour. Leaving all my belongings in the open kayak, I just hoped everything would be safe.

In Terryglass village I had a fantastic meal of Thai chicken curry followed by sticky toffee pudding, a Cappuccino and all washed down by a couple of slow, absorbing, relaxing pints of Heineken. A truly glorious meal. Just a pity I didn't have any company to enjoy it with.

I went back to the kayak and all was in order. I went for a stroll around the public harbour and had a look at the various boats and people stopping there. I was glad I hadn't pitched my tent on the grass there as there were loads of children running around and playing football on the grass. And no doubt there'd be more noise later as people drifted back from the pub.

Back in my private harbour, it was now about 8pm. After a look at the upmarket boats, I pitched my tent on the well-kept mown grass.


I relaxed and checked my map for the coming day. I had crossed two and a half kilometers of lake in choppy waters, which had at times been a struggle. Tomorrow I had about twenty kilometers of wide open lake to travel to get to Dromineer. On the map the lake looked huge. The advice I had been given was that the lake was dangerous. The wind today was only slight, yet it still brought up tricky waves. If there was wind tomorrow of any note, things might get very awkward. I could try and hug the shoreline but at various points I would, no doubt, make a bee-line across open waters from headland to headland. Would I take on too much?


Looking at the setting sun, my present setting was fabulous. It might all get quite different tomorrow, but for now I was in a terrific place. 25km travelled that day to an extremely quiet, private harbour, with the water gently lapping at the marvelous boats. It was now time to just enjoy where I was. I climbed into my sleeping bag, enveloped by my tent. In some ways I was a world away from the luxury of the previous night's Hodson Bay Hotel experience, but in may ways I wasn't. I wondered about what the lake might bring tomorrow. I closed my eyes. I drifted into deep sleep.