9th. August 2007. Day thirteen.

Warm, cosy, and now awake. Ah yes - the B&B in Dromineer. Just a short section of the lake to do today - 21km is the plan. Conditions were fine yesterday so I lay in my bed for a few minutes, contemplating how my day would go in nice conditions. I got up and looked out the window. No blue sky, and the lake looked dark. Back to gray dreary weather. It wasn't the bleak weather but the disturbed rippled water that bothered me. And trees were swaying in the breeze. This wasn't good.

I went down and had a breakfast - a big fry. I did my usual - ate as much as possible to beef up for the effort ahead. Mr. and Mrs. Flannery were exceptionally kind to me. I am extremely grateful for their hospitality. After breakfast I changed into my kayaking clothes and brought my equipment, in a few trips, over to the kayak. With everything packed, I was good to go. I looked nervously at the water. The waves were small, but waves in this sheltered harbour meant bad news out in the open.

I had carried the empty kayak down a slipway to the water's edge before packing it. Now I just had to maneuver it into six inches of water, sit into it and then bring my wet feet into the kayak. As I shifted the kayak down the slipway I suddenly slipped badly on the wet concrete and crashed down hard on the surface. The sudden pain in my arm was intense. As I desperately tried to cope with the pain and figure out if I had broken a bone, an equally intense pain in my leg distracted me. I quickly got up and looked at my leg. As I was falling my leg whipped forward and hit hard against the end of the kayak. So hard that it cut my leg, about halfway between my knee and my foot. Being wet, the blood poured quickly out from the cut. I ascertained I hadn't broken any bones in my arm.

I was raging with myself. Every time when using the kayak I was acutely conscious of the treacherously slippery surface when walking on river-wet concrete, which tends to be slimy and slippery. I had been extremely careful. But now, for just an moment while I was distracted by the sea conditions, I hadn't concentrated. I was hurt but not as badly as I could have been. I walked up from the slipway to try and shake off the pain. It shook me. I nearly broke my arm. I walked back to the kayak and sat into it. As I lifted my leg the blood had run down to my sandals and was dripping off my leg. I put my leg into the kayak and quickly put the spraydeck on. That was better - I could now no longer see my leg. Problem sorted.

I paddled out into the lake. The waves were choppy and the wind was reasonably strong. I made for the first bend - Hazel Point and then headed across open waters for the next headland - Ryan's Point. The wind was making it difficult to keep the kayak going straight. This day was going to be a struggle.

After Ryan's Point I had to go 2.5km in exposed waters across Youghal Bay. I could vaguely see Garykennedy Harbour across the bay so I put my head down and paddled on hard and as straight as possible. The wind seemed to pick up and the water conditions deteriorated quickly. The waves were no longer small and choppy but big and awkward, coming at me from all directions. They were probably only a foot high but it was their erratic nature that was particularly troubling. I battled on and made it to Garykennedy. I was delighted with this for two reasons. Mags, a friend of mine, has a holiday house near there so it is a place I have stayed at with friends on a few occasions. The familiar place was now offering more sanctuary for me from the tough water and weather conditions. Also, looking at the map, the section across Youghal Bay was seemingly the only open water that I'd have to cross. The remainder was down along the left-hand-side of the lake. It might be OK.

I sheltered in Garykennedy Harbour for a few minutes, without getting out of the kayak. Then I paddled on and headed for the next bend - Parker Point.

The wind was immediately in my face and blowing hard. The waves were choppy and difficult. I was bouncing around the place and finding the going very difficult. The effort was draining. Things got so bad that about ten minutes after I left Garykennedy I contemplated going back. I knew I could get shelter there. I would be safe. Out of the water. Out of the waves. I could get in out of the wind. I could get out of the kayak and go for a cup of coffee. The wind blew in my face and waves bounced me around, regularly splashing up over my kayak. The shelter of Garykennedy was screaming at me to come back.

No.

I didn't tackle this trip to turn around. I got stubborn. The weather was back being nasty to me again. I got thick. The nice weather of yesterday had, for a while, made me soft. It encouraged me to turn back when things got tricky. I put my head down, took deep breaths, drove the paddle down deep into the water and paddled hard. The waves got bigger. I kept going. The waves got even bigger. I kept going. Within minutes I realised I was in bigger waves than I have ever kayaked in my life. This was crazy.

A full kayak, packed solid. Waves getting bigger and bigger. These could easily throw me over. A big wave hitting me from the side could capsize me and all my equipment could be lost. But the waves weren't hitting me from the side.

The waves were coming at me from the front. Waves three and four foot tall. As I paddled fast and hard the kayak surged up onto the waves and the nose of the kayak lifted off over the top of them, crashing back down onto the water. Spray was splashed up and blowing hard into my face. My mouth was wide open taking in air and blowing water out. More spray was blowing off the top of the waves and belting into my face. The muscles in my arms were pumping and solid as I dragged the paddles through the water, plunging them back in as soon as possible to keep the momentum going. Sometimes the fifteen foot long kayak was lifting high off a four-foot wave and speared headlong into the next wave. The nose of the kayak disappeared underwater and water surged towards me along the top of the kayak crashing my body into the wave and sending water spraying everywhere. Other times, the kayak lifted off the top of a wave and the underside splashed down hard onto the surface. I was keeping my face down to avoid sucking in water as I gasped for air, and looking up briefly to see how big the next wave to hit me was.

I was in incredible conditions, with big waves throwing me up and down, with water spray lashing me, my muscles struggling to keep going, my mind screaming at me to fight with everything I had, and I was loving it.

Thoughts were racing through my mind. I was telling myself that if I had known conditions were going to be this bad I would never have set out. I was suddenly thrust into the terribly dangerous Lough Derg lake conditions that everyone told me about. I had been warned. Again and again. No excuses. You WILL get big dangerous waves. And here I was in the middle of it. Loving it. And I knew I was loving it. Wave after big wave. It wasn't just something I looked back on and appreciated later. The adrenalin was flowing freely. The danger was real, and tough going. The excitement was terrific. More big waves. More lifts up and out over crests. More spray. The kayak plunged headlong up and down. Out of waves, into waves, spearing water, emerging out of waves to take the next one on. It didn't matter what was thrown at my trusty yellow kayak, we rode those waves like beings possessed. It was a highlight of the whole expedition.

In a while, maybe twenty minutes, the conditions calmed and the waves died down as I travelled down the lake. It was still windy and hard going but the water was much flatter. Waves were probably still a foot high but nothing compared to the big waves. I paddled on, delighted with myself. I had, without intending it, shown to myself what I was capable of. The infamous Lough Derg no longer frightened me. I could take on some serious water.

After some time I looked for a place to shelter, just for a rest. The effort I had made in fighting those waves had tired me. I saw a small man-made inlet and went into it. It was a small private jetty with a boathouse attached. Just as I got there, the boathouse door opened and a very surprised man looked at me. He had a couple of little boats with outboard engines on them and was clearly going fishing. I told him I just needed to rest for a few minutes. That was no problem with him and he affably asked me where I had come from. I told him from Garykennedy direction, heading for Killaloe. He said "You mean you're going towards Garykennedy? ". When I corrected him and confirmed I had just come from Garykennedy he was astonished and said "But the waves must have been big out there! " When I agreed they were, he told me that I had just come through the worst part of the lake and in a storm like this, it would be particularly bad. He told me I did well to get through that. I asked him if I could expect bad conditions on the route I was taking and he said it should be relatively sheltered, but with "a few open sections all the same. " We wished each other well and I paddled on. He passed me a few minutes later in his small powered boat and gave me a wave - a friendly wave. Not a four-foot one.

I paddled on down the left-hand side of the lake, facing into a strong wind, that took long hard concentrated efforts to travel any distance. It was tough going. I tried to paddle for about half-an-hour at a time and then I'd pull in to rest. There were a few, privately owned, small sheltered inlets along the way, usually with a boat or two in them.


In some I got out to stretch my legs but in others I just paddled in and rested for a few minutes before heading out once again into the wind and waves. The waves were demanding - about one to two foot high, and the constant battering was draining.

At one privately owned inlet I got out of the kayak and had my lunch on their impressive decking, which was all very salubrious.



I set the camera up to take a photo of me enjoying the break.



I struggled on and got to Derry Castle - a run-down ruins with little to see, but a good excuse to stop, get out, explore and rest. The building is small so it didn't take long. Back in the kayak and I made for Killaloe. The journey seemed to take for ages and around each headland I was expecting to see the town, but I just got more and more lake to travel.

Finally, with my energy and enthusiasm running low, I passed Ballyvally Point and down the relatively narrow section of river that runs to Killaloe. A bit more paddling and I could see the familiar road-bridge across the river between Killaloe and Ballina. I had been in a pub beside that bridge about a year earlier so I was familiar with the area. I was heading for a coffee shop with B&B facilities on the Killaloe side of the river. Mags had got directions from her brother who lives nearby so I had been told to go under the bridge, past the B&B, and look for the entrance to the canal on the right hand side which runs parallel to the river. I did that, and I could see the canal, but couldn't find the entrance. I asked a man in a barge if he could direct me but he was a visitor also and couldn't help. It was raining, and with tiredness I was getting frustrated and miserable very quickly. To be so close to the comfort of a B&B, to be able to see it, to almost smell the coffee, was cruel. I started going back upriver briefly but realising that was a waste of time I turned and surged downriver with my last remaining energy.

The entrance to the canal appeared, much further downstream than I had expected. But with the entrance came new energy and an immediate uplift in my spirits. I paddled into the canal and travelled the short distance back up towards the B&B. I got out of the kayak and tied it to a pole.

It was over - the big dangerous lake was done. It had given me terrific conditions, in clear blue skies. It had lured me into thinking that its reputation was exaggerated. And then it had picked me up and thrown me around in big waves. But I had fought it, and didn't retreat. I didn't beat it. It would be foolish to think that I had beaten it for I know that it could throw a lot more at a complacent traveller. But I had tackled it and got by. That was good enough. I did the lake. I was tired, wet, sore and drained. I was delighted.

I climbed a fence and went across the footbridge to The Derg B&B. On asking if there was any accommodation, I was all too aware of my bedraggled, wet state, so I quickly followed up with an explanation for my situation. The girl seemed very impressed with the trip as she went off to find out if there were any available rooms. After a few anxious moments waiting she returned with a key and brought me up to show me a room. It was fantastic, with modern facilities maintaining old world charm and a great view out over the river.


I made a couple of trips over to the kayak and brought my equipment to the room. After a shower and a couple of phone calls I went to that pub across the river - Molly's, for a big dinner, dessert and coffee. Then on to Brendan Grace's pub for a few pints while watching whatever golf was on the TV. So, so relaxing.

My Dictaphone recording for that day says "Today, Thursday, was a tough day. " It sure was. Muscles sore from a day's straining relaxed and recuperated. I enjoyed a nice evening. I didn't mind being on my own for tomorrow I was to get to Limerick City, to my sister Marie and her family. I longed to meet them, and being this close to them and full sure that I'd make it there, I was in terrific form.

I strolled back to the B&B, taking a quick detour to check the kayak. All looked fine. The B&B / Coffee Shop usually had a big six-foot high wooden comical waiter statue outside its door. When I turned the key and went in the door of the B&B, in semi-darkness, I came face-to-face with the big wooden statue, with its hand out beckoning a potential hungry customer in. It had been taken in for the night. I nearly ended up back out in the canal with the fright I got. I still don't know how I didn't scream and punch the statue between its large wooden eyes. My heart was still noticeably pumping as I got to the safety of my room.

I studied my maps. I had travelled 23.5km that day. Tomorrow - the last day in the kayak, should be 23km in relatively sheltered river, with no exposed lake sections. There were some logistics to be sorted. I had to ring ahead to the ESB's Ardnacrusha Power Station dam, to arrange for the operation of the lock. I was looking forward to seeing that. The huge 100' drop through the locks was the stuff of legend. The excitement of it appealed to me, and the engineering of the infrastructure was also of interest. The adventure was changing but continuing. I got into bed and must have slept quickly, for I don't recall anything else.