PicoMicroYacht - The Ardnacusha

PicoMicroYacht goes to Ireland  - the Ardnacrusha

The last leg of my Ireland crossing was from Killaloe to Limerick, through a huge lock called Ardnacusha, part of a hydroelectric system constructed by a German firm with Irish design and labour force in the 1920s.

The Ardnacusha hydroelectric system - the lock entrances and exits are on the right

Ireland had just had seven years of independence from the British when it was built, consuming one fifth of their annual budget. The lock is the deepest in Europe, going down 102 feet.

Upstream there is an artificial lough that acts as a sump and exiting this is a weir system with a large vertically lifting sluice gate that lets you into a seven mile long conduit to the lock. You have to book at least two days in advance to go through the gate and then the Ardnacusha lock.

The gate at the Parteen Weir System

When I got to the gate it was well and truly shut and my thoughts were that they had forgotten about me. 

There was a huge downpour and I sat in the boat under a tarp on the boat contemplating what to and looking at the Siemens-Schuckert weir architecture. But then a ‘knee-naw’ warning signal went off and the gate started to open, although I never saw anybody operating it.

I was now in the conduit and left the gate behind. The next seven miles seemed to go quickly.

I arrived at the jetty just before the entrance to the lock.

Soon I was in. The first drop is about 60 feet and I was now down at the bottom. Looking up, I saw some workmen who had come over to have a look, waving from the top. 

The door then opened and I could paddle into a second contiguous lock.

This lowered me down and I waited for the opening it's door. In all it took around 50 minutes to complete the lock cycle.

I was now able to exit the Ardnacusha and was on my way to Limerick.

As the waterway eventually opened out I passed some fishing boats. They also used oars for propulsion.

I had planned to go through the sea lock into the Shannon Estuary and finish my voyage there. But had found out it only opened once a week and for a few hours, the next opening time in five days.

There were only two slipways before the lock and I found one, at the the Barrack Land Boatman’s Club. A club member was very helpful in allowing me to use their slipway, so that I could get PicoMicroYacht out of the water to finish up.

PicoMicroYacht goes to Ireland – the Shannon

As I exited into the Shannon the pretty, concise and restricted work of the canal disappeared and was replaced by grandeur and wild beauty, a bit like the Norfolk Broads in England, but without all those the boats.

On distant banks swans were nesting.

I spied people working on the banks, including a reed cutter.

Although I was warm from the rowing there was a biting chill in the air and those fishing were well dressed, although could have looked like pirates in a different context.

The cruisers I did see where on hired boats, easy to spot by the number of fenders they use.

Fishing stages made a good stop-off point for lunch.

After two days I was in Lough Derg, a 20 mile long inland lake large enough to be cautious about the weather.

I started flying my Irish courtesy flag (a flag to be flown by a ship visiting another country), as I crossed the lough.

The wind can get up very quickly. At one point I stopped on the lough to observe the waves and their bumpiness.

Some fierce people fishing strayed near to the navigation mark, so I had to go the wrong side and avoid their fishing lines.

The lake calmed and I was setting off on my way to the base of the lough, towards Killaloe, It had taken three days so far in the Shannon river system and and my final voyage  to Limerick was yet to come. 

PicoMicroYacht goes to Ireland – The Grand Canal

The plan was for PicoMicoYacht to voyage across Ireland from Dublin to Limerick, firstly on the Grand Canal and then down the mighty River Shannon, through Lough Derg.

The night before I set off, I met up for a drink with an ex colleague Niall, a Dubliner who had worked in London and moved back to Dublin to set up a department in one of the large hospitals (Ian 'Elvis' Robertson was on this world travels - see previous blog). We had halves, because he was driving and I was about to set off. Conversation went like this:

Niall: What’s it like setting off?

Me: Well I am having to avoid starting in the centre of Dublin because I have been warned off going through the rough areas on the canal on my own with all my gear – a pity because I will miss out on the views – so I am setting off from the outskirts….’

Niall: Yes I have heard..

Me: Actually I am more worried now about the weed.

(at this point Niall looks quizzical for about a second to two)

Me: (laughing) no not that type of weed…

It turned out that Niall had a great grandfather who was a lock keeper in the stretch of river I would be rowing, living at Allenwood, near the end of my first day.

I duly set off and immediately reached a double lock. This is two locks arranged contiguously. I got into the first one but the weed seemed to block the next one up, so I had to portage PicoMicroYacht. I was right about the weed.

I had a new strategy to take a bicycle with me, the plan being to cycle back to my base each day and fetch the car.

It partially worked, but I misjudged what was achievable, and the seven locks and fifteen miles on the first day, with two portages and a bike ride at the end was a little too much and on the subsequent days I had to reduce my distances.

The bridges were quaint and include remains of light lifting bridges, works of art in their own way.

Initially, many of the houses along the canal had large dogs who would come out to take a look.

Eventually I caught up with the weed cutter and gatherer boats who have a busy time on the canal.

The days flew by along the canal as I admired the beauty of the landscape and tried to keep rowing.

It was relaxing rowing mile after mile most of the time in a world of my own. Very few boats were seen and I had only one incident of having to get out of the way.

This motor cruiser looked more stressed as they negotiated the bridge.

For the fisherman it was I who was disturbing the peace.

Halfway along near Tullamore I saw the tell-tail signs of a rowing club.

It turned out to be the Offaly Rowing club and I passed their boats in training.

Along the way there were picturesque ruins of houses, stirring thoughts of long-lost histories and people of who might have lived by the river in distant times.

After five days I had reached the end of the Canal and was at Shannon Harbour, which had a faded glory look.  The distance so far was about 70 miles.

The peacefulness of the Grand Canal is captured in a poem by Michael Hensey (1950-2005).

Grand Canal, Tullamore

I used to love to sit by the old lock gate
and hear the tumbling waters roar
in carefree dreamy boyhood days
in dear sweet Tullamore

The summer air held a magic rare
with charm the soul to enthral
in restful eves along the spangled leaves
on the green, grassy banks of the grand canal.

From the book 'Stars on Still Water' by Michael Hensey.

The butterfly effect and PicoMicroYacht voyaging

Stay with me with this one, but I will get there. Everybody knows the butterfly effect, discovered by Edward Lorenz. Technically defined, 'a small perturbation in the initial condition of a system results in large changes in later conditions.' Very small beginnings can have huge consequences. 

A butterfly flapping it's wings in Mexico will eventually set in chain sequence of events that causes a typhoon in China.  For humans, as someone has said, faith as small as a mustard seed can move mountains.

CASPA is an amazing charity working with children, young people and families affected by autism in South East London. I know this because I have spoken to some of the families involved and for some it has been life transforming.

My friend Ivor found a way of making CASPA happen just because one day he got up and thought 'I really should get some exercise' and he went for a jog. 

One thing led to another  and he thought 'I should get other people involved' and some friends went jogging with him. Then the friends thought' 'we really should have a go at some of these running events and do it for charity'. This is how fourdaysrunning was born and every year Ivor organises a running event, the mainstay fundraising for CASPA.

Ivor  Reveley presenting a cheque to CASPA from the fourdaysrunning event: each year the money comes in and it is spent gratefully and wisely

Ivor, clutching that cheque in the photo above, badgered me into joining in. Well, I can't run very well, but I can row in small boats. So starting in 2013, Ivor invited PicoMicroYacht to join fourdaysrunning. 

The joggers would run and I would row in the sea or river nearby and we would wave to each other along the way. Four years later, PicoMicroYacht has been inspired to row round the west of Cornwall (PicoMicroYacht's Cape Horn), the length of the Thames (Tom Sawyer eat your heart out) river  and round the Isle of Wight (an epic voyage for PicoMicroYacht)

Their next adventure is to run along the wild and rugged west coast of Ireland. PicoMicroYacht will be joining them, rowing, firstly 130 miles across Ireland  from Dublin to Limerick, timing the arrival for the start of their fourdays 100K run at the end of April.

PicoMicroYacht is getting ready, with some sanding down and a few coats of varnish. Little modifications are being done such as some plywood boards to rest on when I stop and a better tent to sleep in. The rowing machine is getting longer workouts.The runners are training harder and the excitement is building.

A PicoMicroAdventure

The writer Alastair Humphreys has recently coined the term microadventure to label a new philosophy about having an adventure.

'... you do not need to fly to the other side of the planet to undertake an expedition. You do not need to be an elite athlete, expertly trained or rich to have an adventure.

I believe that adventure is about stretching yourself: mentally, physically or culturally. It is about doing what you do not normally do, pushing yourself hard and doing it to the best of your ability.

If that is true then adventure is all around us, at all times. Adventure is accessible to normal people, in normal places, in short segments of time and without having to spend much money.'

So he advocates simple expeditions and challenges that are close to home. Examples are driving to a nearby hill, finding an wood away from housing and sleeping the night in a bivvy bag. He even decided as a challenge to walk round the M25 London radial road system with a friend, staying the night out in the open each night.

Some would say this is eccentric, even mad. But I have been pondering the nature of eccentricity. Take commuting to work, for example; I have travelled on the same train route in London about 10,000 times in the last 28 years, including there and back. Nothing much happened. It is true once I nearly got mugged and evaded my mugging mainly due to the stupidity of the muggers. But nothing much else happened for 10,000 times and this was my most exciting experience. So does it strike people as odd that I should do such a repetitive and uninteresting activity so frequently and for so many years? not really... perhaps it should... and also in comparison, why is it so strange to create a sense of adventure by sleeping under the stars and trees in a wood for a night in  the South of England?

Of course, there are answers to this question, but I think Alastair has some good things to say as he articulated the reasons to do microadventuring and for me to be rowing round the south coast of England, or even across Ireland in a 11.5 foot sailing dinghy. 

Armed with these thoughts on a cold December day with the light was fading I set off from Queenborough in the Medway Estuary in search of Deadman's Island.

PicoMicroYacht was laden up with two dry bags, with a tent and a cooker, and my laptop for writing. The plan was to stay the night on Deadman's Island and blog from there.

The Queenborough pontoons with the cranes on the Isle of Grain behind

As I set off, a local man commented  roughly but kindly 'you will ..... freeze to death out there.'

The leaden water began to ruffle as I looked out towards the Medway entrance

The name Deadman's island sounds as if it is from a film about pirates, but it came about because an outbreak of plaque in the Baltic Sea ports led to a designated quarantine site for cargo ships that were sailing to London in 1712. 

Those quarantined stayed on ships in the proximal Shepherds Creek and many who died were buried on the island. 

Also, in the 19th Century, prison ships were moored there and dead prisoners were buried.

I tried to photograph the creeks and the posts that lined it, previously used to help moor ships. However, my hand was not steady enough.

Reaching the centre of Shepherd's creek, I rowed around for a while trying to find a landing area, but getting lost in the small subsidiary creeks. The tide was beginning to recede and it had got dark - it felt like pitch black in the creek.

As I looked back I saw a freighter gliding along down the West Swale, onward into the Thames Estuary, camouflaged by the shore lights.

 I had to admit defeat and return back to Queenborough, but already I had experienced a PicoMicroAdventure even without staying the night on the island.

The Old House at Home pub just by the slipway at Queenborough was a welcome sight

As an update - Alistair Humphreys has emailed 'All I have done is invent a name for the cool stuff that people have been doing for years.' A bit modest in my view.

PicoMicroYacht all shook up because Elvis is alive in Dublin

I am all shook up because last week I saw Elvis perform alive in Dublin.  Honestly, I can explain ... it's tricky, but stay with me....

The first step in planning the PicoMicroYacht voyage from Dublin to Limerick for next year (see previous post) is to get hold of the particular type of lock key used on Irish canals.

Irish canals have lock key systems that prevent people vandalising locks by using ordinary spanners to open the sluice gates at the wrong moment. Specially fitted cowling stops them, but this means the key has to have a longer end, as above.

So what is this to do with Elvis, I hear you say? 

Well ... I needed to get one of these keys and it was fortunate to be in Dublin attending a meeting to celebrate the career of a distinguished brain scientist, Professor Ian Robertson.

It was a wonderful meeting -  I have to admit that we all got a little carried away at the end.  To the delight of his audience, Ian became Elvis for a magical instance and we were treated to a masterful rendition of  'I can't help falling in love with you.'

Or maybe it really was Elvis.....

but what is this to do with lock keys I hear you ask?

Well, I was allowed time off from the meeting to purchase the lock key, a heavy lump of metal, which I had to conceal in my bag and cart back to the UK. I now have it in readiness for the PicoMicroYacht Ireland adventure.

But the way, Ian has just written a book on stress which promises to be a real classic.