3rd. August 2007. Day seven.

The calm before the squall. The calm before the storm.

Text message from my brother John at 6:50am: " Float on! ".

When I awoke in my tent at Acres, it was all very peaceful outside. I was near a main road so every now and then I heard a car go past. I got up and made myself breakfast of sliced white bread with Heinz Sandwich Spread, a cereal bar and a cup of tea. Everything was damp from the night's rain, but it wasn't raining now. While packing up the tent, a man from one of the boats moored up nearby stopped and enquired about where I was going. He was very interested in the trip and wished me well. Then his dog went to the toilet on the grass beside my tent and he went berserk with the dog, giving him a few lashes with his morning newspaper! The poor man was so apologetic I felt sorry for him, never mind the dog!

I was on the water at 9:30am and paddling quietly and leisurely down the canal. I was impressed yet again by the numerous shades of green. After some time I realised how fortunate I was that I had turned back the previous evening because there was no suitable place to camp for quite some distance. For most of the canal, with its man-made vertical banks, it wasn't possible to even get out of it. I met two canoes coming towards me with two people in each. They were going up the canal, to come back down the alternative river route.


I carried on and began to notice that I was looking forward to the next lock, as it provided a change from the shades of green, which were now becoming monotonous. I got to Dromeague Lock and chatted to the lock-keeper. I went through that lock on my own. Next was Battlebridge Lock and more chatting to the lock-keeper and other people in boats passing through. They were all suitably impressed with the trip I was doing but some expressed surprise that I was going to cross Lough Derg, further down the Shannon. The comments were usually expressed something like … "You're even going to cross Lough Derg?! ". I didn't dwell on the comments - I didn't have much choice but to cross that lake and it was a bit off yet. After that lock, the canal joins the river once again. I expected a reasonably fast flow that would take me down the river, but the difference was effectively negligible. However, the water was cleaner due to some flow compared to the relatively stagnant murky water of the canal.

I followed the river down towards Hartley Bridge. The river had now opened up wide compared to the section before Lough Allen. This was completely different. It was possibly 80 yards or meters wide in sections, with reeds growing densely and deep at the river banks. The reeds could have been 20 meters deep so there was no access to the bank. I didn't realise it at that stage, but I was to get used to seeing reeds, for quite some time!

At about Hartley Bridge I noticed the wind picking up. It wasn't particularly strong, but noticeable all the same. As I was following the course of the twisting turning river, the wind was coming at me from different directions. Over about 30 or 40 minutes, the wind gradually increased. I was comfortable with the travelling and saluted or waved at various boats coming towards me or passing me from behind. At a turn just before Carrick-on-Shannon I rounded a bend and felt a strong wind in my face. I didn't change my paddling routine and carried on as I was.


Then suddenly a sudden gust caught my paddle and whipped it back over my head while I held onto it. The force nearly turned me and the kayak over. I held tight to the paddle but let the wind take it whatever direction it wanted. I knew if I fought it, the force could topple me. My kayak was turning in the water. I slowly took the paddle and started paddling to straighten up the kayak and maintain my direction downstream. I became aware of the waves that had been raised by the wind - not big but maybe eight inches and fast. The strong wind continued to push me. This was not easy. I needed to concentrate. Being in the centre of the river, I was 30 meters from either shore so going in the water now would be a problem. I used my body weight, paddle and balance to counteract the wind and waves. I brought the kayak around and paddled hard into the wind. I bounced up and down over the waves. I had gotten a fright by the sudden squall, so I headed to a natural sheltered area within the reeds.

In the dramatically different calm shelter of the reeds, I relaxed and assessed my situation. If I had toppled out in the middle of the river I would have been able to swim to the reeds, but what then? I would not be able to force my way through the reeds to the river bank. Wait for a passing boat? While I was there, a boat went past and with the wind and river conditions, even the boat driver was concentrating hard on what he was doing. I knew that if I was in the water at these reeds in these conditions he would not hear me shouting. I would have to swim to the middle of the river and hope a boat driver would see me without driving over me! No - I could not afford to end up in the river. I would definitely have to concentrate hard to get clear of this.

I turned the kayak and paddled out of the reeds and out from the sheltered area. I needed to turn left to go downstream, but the wind and waves were coming from the left and they pushed my kayak right. I realised quickly that I had a battle on here, being very careful not to fight too hard and possibly force myself over. The key was balance. Enough on one side to prevent the wind blowing me over, and enough on the other to stop the force I was putting into each stroke from toppling me. I battled on with hard, strong strokes. Water was splashing up from the river and blowing into my face. I had my mouth wide open to get air in as I gasped for breath from the effort. I got an incredible sense of "do or die". It was clear to me that nobody was going to help me out here. In other similar situations I've been with friends and you expect someone will always bail you out - there'll be rescue somehow. But this was dangerous.

I felt alone.

I got energy from deep within and the muscles responded to every demand. I fought that water and the kayak started to turn downstream. Continued constant and massive effort and the kayak was facing downstream, into the wind and the waves. Just where I wanted it to be. The wind whistled past my ears, the water splashed and sprayed into my face, and I kept paddling. Around a bend and then another. No stopping. What's the point in stopping? I'll just get blown around. I paddled hard. Another bend and the wind died down. More river and a calm descended. Fifteen minutes after the squall I was back to gentle wind, tiny waves and the easy conditions. I carried on, for about another hour, into Carrick-on-Shannon and relaxed in seeing the familiar rental boats moored up on the left-hand side. Around the bend and the familiar road-bridge came into view. I knew lunch wasn't far away.

I had checked out the river bank in front of the Landmark Hotel in the previous weeks and knew there was a grassy area slopping down to the river, which enabled me get out and tie up the kayak. I changed into dry clothes and enjoyed a three course meal in the hotel, sitting at a table by the window which allowed me keep an eye on the kayak. I studied my maps and tried to figure out how far I might get in the afternoon. When planning the trip I thought I might make Carrick-on-Shannon by evening but now I was well ahead.

Some of my family - my brother John and sister Cecilia and her family, had said they would meet me along the route. Cecilia and family were passing by on their way to Mayo. John was planning to spend some time with me. I was looking forward to meeting them. That morning in my tent at Acres, I had recorded on my dictaphone how lonely the trip could be. I passed people along the way but didn't get time to chat for long. Also I was very keen to share my experiences with someone I knew. It was hard to experience so much during the day and then in the evening, when everything went quiet and I was inactive, I had nobody to discuss the adventures of the day with. I longed to meet family.

Pouring over the map in the hotel I reckoned it was too far to Roosky, but maybe I could camp somewhere in-between, and then make Roosky the following day. I contacted John and Cecilia and told them the plan. Roosky was good for them! I went into Carrick-on-Shannon town and bought a small cooking pot. I had been carrying a tin of Ambrosia creamed rice with me ever since John gave it to me in Fermanagh but didn't have anything to cook it in!

Back at the kayak I changed again and headed off. Conditions were calm with a slight breeze. I paddled calmly out of Carrick enjoying the inquisitive looks and encouraging waves from those on the river banks and those in boats. All was peaceful. About a kilometer out from Carrick I rounded a bend and the wind hit me full in the face. It picked up seemingly from nothing to a strong persistent level. It was so bad that I contemplated going back to Carrick. But the thoughts of turning back did not sit well. I got annoyed at the weather and simply didn't want to be defeated by it. I looked at the boats going past and nobody was waving, for which I was glad. It wasn't safe to let go of the paddle with one hand. The boat drivers were all concentrating on their driving. Conditions had deteriorated rapidly. Facing defeat head on, I got stubborn. I reckoned that if I came around one bend and conditions changed that much, perhaps I would go around the next bend and I'd be back to calmer conditions. They could get worse, but I'm an optimist!

I looked at the next bend, possibly half a kilometer away, put my head down and went for it. It was a tough, tough battle. I was fighting the wind and crashing though small waves, with the spray generated from my paddle and blown up from the waves lashing against me. The bend came and as I rounded it I could see the river open up into a wide area with absolutely no shelter, and no change in the conditions. The next bend was a kilometer away. But I could see it so I went for it.

That brought me to another open area called Lough Corry, but again I could see the following bend. And so on it went. Bend after bend. It was hard going. It was tiring. It was a constant battle. But with each bend I was winning, and I was getting used to it. The weather seemed to be throwing lots at me but I kept going. Also, along the route, I realised that all the boats were coming towards me, heading for Carrick-on-Shannon, but none were passing me. It dawned on me that nobody was leaving Carrick! Were the conditions too bad? Were these boats coming back for shelter? Was I the only crazy fool to venture forth? At first it worried me, but as I journeyed on, I relished in the fact that I was winning the little fight I had taken on against the weather, and that gave me more drive to keep going. If it's not the body producing adrenalin, it's the mind making you survive.

I finally reached and entered the Jamestown Canal. The river route would take me in a long loop north through Jamestown and around through Drumsna, but the canal by-passes all that. Also there is at least one weir along that route which I would have to negotiate, and not knowing the access in or out of the river I took the canal. I was suddenly into calm sheltered conditions. Paddling along the placid water was serene, tranquil and quickly became boring compared to the earlier struggle, but I enjoyed the breather. This was easy!

After a couple of kilometers I reached the Albert Lock. As it was around 6pm, during the canal section I had been keeping an eye out for some place to camp. But as usual, the canal banks did not provide anywhere to get out of the kayak. At the landscaped area around the lock I could see flat areas of cut grass. That would be ideal for my tent. I saw a few concrete steps going up the river-bank out of the water which was the only place for me to get out. However, the lock was open in my favour so I went on into it, thinking that I'd get a place to get out after the lock. I went though and to my dismay could see no suitable place to stop. I could also see there was a large queue of boats here in Lough Nanoge, waiting to use the lock going upstream. It turned out they were all looking for shelter and trying to get off Lough Boderg - the next big lake on the river.

As I passed through the small Lough Nanoge, I looked to my right and could see a channel of water veering off to some area, with a boat driving that direction. I thought about checking it out, but then decided I could paddle for another hour and still have plenty of time to camp. I turned right, out from the lake and into the main river. The wind was suddenly strong again and I resumed the struggle. Head down and big effort - just as I had done for the afternoon. I continued like that for about fifteen minutes before I realised my heart wasn't really in it. I was getting hungry and tired. Stopping, and the wait to get through the canal as water levels change had slowed my system right down. I stopped to assess.

I looked up the river. It seemed to go on for miles and miles with just reeds on each side. It was wide in the section I was in - maybe 150 meters, and I could see from my map that it was just going to get wider when I entered Lough Tap. With all these reeds I reckoned that I might have to go for a long time before I would get a place to get out of the river. No - this was madness. I was tired, it was getting late, I was hungry and the weather was deteriorating. I turned around and went back. I had probably gone half a kilometer, so psychologically this wasn't easy to do but good sense directed me.

I got back to that channel of water going off to the side of Lough Nanoge and went down it. As I turned a corner I could see loads of boats, possibly eighty, moored up on jetties. I was delighted and knew I'd somehow get a place to stop. Jetties are no good to a kayaker because they are too high to exit or enter from, especially when in a filly-laden boat like mine. I carried on down past the boats and saw a boatyard, and knowing there'd be a slipway, my spirits lifted even more. Minutes later the slipway appeared between moored boats and I was out of the water near a flat grassed area. I had travelled 28km on the water that day. I saw a man working on his boat so went over to ask him about this place.


It apparently was a private jetty but on explaining my predicament he reckoned there'd be no problem! He was fascinated with my trip and, called his wife out from the boat to hear all about it. They both enquired enthusiastically about the details. He then spoke about Lough Derg and told me of the dangers of taking that on. He said it can be like the sea, with waves five foot high, and big boats often don't risk it depending on the conditions. He said that if I really had to do it, maybe I should try tag along with another boat to try and get some shelter from it - or at least assistance if I got into trouble! My troubles were being laid out in front of me. This was not what I wanted to hear after a difficult day on the water. But I was meeting my family in Roosky tomorrow and that was something to look forward to.


I unpacked the kayak and pitched my tent on the flat but very bumpy grass. As I was putting the tent up, the flysheet was billowing around in the wind. It felt like a storm was approaching. I made sure that everything was secure and in out of the weather. I felt uneasy. I didn't want anything to spoil meeting my family. I climbed into the tent, again alone after a hard day's exciting adventure. I checked my mobile phone for messages. Here was the first I read, received from John, 7:16pm : " Met Office gale warning & small craft warning for tonight and severe weather warning for Sat/Sun. No panic. Just batten down the hatches!! Roosky 12:30 OK? ". No, no, no - that was not what I wanted. Not bad weather now - not when I needed to make Roosky. OK, I could ask them to come to this boatyard but what a miserable depressing place to meet your family on a big expedition. I wanted to get to Roosky and that was that. I started to feel down. I opened another message. This one from Annette, received 7:06pm: " Having a pint with TJ for his birthday. Will have one for you.. Hope all's going well ".

If I'd been in Dublin I'd have been having a pint right now. Heineken, no doubt. Instead, despite having survived a squall and testing conditions, I was in a boatyard. It was safe, secure and reasonably sheltered from the inclement weather. Exactly what I needed, but it was a miserable boatyard nonetheless. I was getting further down. I rang Annette. She was enjoying herself with TJ and Trisha in some pub. Her phone was passed from one to the other as we all briefly chatted about the trip. I was aware that the battery on my mobile was dying. I needed battery life to contact my family. The phone conversations were doing me no good at all. I wanted to be there, enjoying a drink. I needed to get off the phone. I was feeling worse and worse. I made my apologies and abandoned the call. Thankfully Trisha, to whom I was talking at the time, seemed to understand. I was now miserable.

I went over to where some men were working on a boat. I asked them if I could charge my phone and they kindly told me to go ahead - "no problem". I plugged it in and went for a walk around the boatyard. I looked at some of the nice boats moored up. There were people in some of the boats but not many. All the time the wind was picking up and dark clouds were rolling in. Apart from the obvious weather, there was something playing on my mind. After half an hour I went back to get my phone. On walking back to my tent I noticed it shaking violently in the wind. I had noticed an empty large boat shed in the work area. I reckoned that if all came to all - if my tent blew away during the night, I'd grab what I could and make for the shed.

I got into the tent, and as there was nothing else to do, or nothing to read, I got into my sleeping bag. I was still bothered by something and now formulated in my mind exactly what it was. Sense was telling me that if conditions were too bad in the morning I would not go kayaking. I would stop the trip for a day and hold out until conditions improved. However, the adventurous and stubborn side of me was telling me that I was not prepared to be stopped by the weather. I realised that I would make a go at the kayaking regardless of what the conditions were like. This actually frightened me and was what was bothering me - playing on my mind. I knew that I would take the challenge on - regardless of how reckless it might be. It was stupid, foolish and unfair to everyone if things went wrong. But there was something incredibly strong driving me to get to Roosky to see my family. And I was going to face some very real danger to do that. It frightened me to think how reckless I was going to be. It frightened me even more to think that I couldn't stop it. Part of me was saying "be sensible " and the rest of me was thinking "I know you won't be ". I did not feel good that evening. I now felt the lowest I have been in a long, long time.

I looked at my watch at 9:30pm. The wind was howling, the rain had started lashing against the tent like bullets from a machine gun, the tent was shaking ferociously, the noise of the storm was intense. I fell asleep.

Some hours later, in the middle of the night, I was awoken by a sudden burst of noise and energy from the storm as it shook the tent violently. I thought to myself "it's only that brutal storm " and I was back asleep again within 10 seconds.