Day 7:- Medical Emergency - Summer Arrives

After an uneasy night worrying of rodent attack in the barn, the rejuvenated
but apprehensive looking team awake to sunshine and hopes of topping up
their pasty skins with a bronze suntan

After yesterday's gruelling leg from Athlone, sunshine greeted the earlier risers from their slumber in the swallow "infested" barn although most exercised caution knowing full well that weather conditions can change very rapidly in Ireland. Coughing and wheezing and for some an Alka-Seltzer or two to allay the previous nights Guinness excesses, the paddlers climbed into the boats ready for the paddle to the Tipperary/Galway border. All set off as optimistic  as ever and some even broke into whistling as the journey begun. The weather remained favourable and unusually the row passed relatively uneventfully as we took in the scenery and meandered our way down the river. In fact this leg was undoubtedly the most uneventful of the whole time we were in Ireland, hence the way I'm babbling on and trying to think of something at least half readable to type. It was a chance however for us all to take in the beautiful surroundings that rural Ireland has to offer and even had the time for a floating picnic of energy bars and chocolate and  for one the chance a power nap as we drifted aimlessly down the wandering Shannon. We plodded on and reached Banagher where we had a "stretch the legs" break, a few sarnies and an opportunity for one of the team to "chance his arm" with a local girl who's young son took an interest in the canoes. After sighing and shaking her head the flame haired female turned and hurriedly trotted away much to the aghast of the would be lothario. When Mundy returned from what must have been his months grocery shop we again took to the water. The tranquillity of the saunter down the Shannon continued and again we had ample time to take in the sights and sounds of the river. 

Pete suffers terrible injury but manages to
soldier on despite agonizing pain 

The peace was about to be abruptly ended as a shout and whistle from one boat alerted the others that we had an urgent medical emergency on our hands. The boats at the front sped Hawaii-five-O like back toward the stricken paddler and thoughts of a dislocated shoulder, epileptic fit or even a potential drowning worried the wannabe first aiders. Panting after the exertion of the sprint they appeared perplexed when they could not really fathom out what was actually wrong. Pete then revealed the trauma that he was having to endure............a blister on the middle index finger... After applying a lovely looking blue plaster  the "rescue" teams gave Pete a terrible slating with the abuse continuing long after the first aid was applied with one wit suggesting that the "injury" was more likely obtained not from his gripping the oar tightly but by perhaps gripping another stubbier object in the privacy of his own sleeping bag the night before.

Pete survived the lambasting and eventually we arrived at a small marina on the Tipperary/Galway,disembarked then headed into Portumna Co Galway and to the An Caislean pub so Pete could exercise his infected pinky with a pint of Guinness or two.

Pete (Green boat : front) adjusts headwear blissfully unaware of the "gammy digit" agony that he would soon  have to endure

In all a very relaxing day compared to others so far and after pitching the tents returned to the delights of an evening spent sat in the pub........an activity very familiar to most of the team.

Day 6 - 4 Star Accommodation - Fish Attack- Snoring

Threatening skies at Athlone Co Westmeath  has the team moaning and
griping earlier than usual for the leg to Shannonbridge Co Offlay.

Leaden skies and a cold wind greeted the oarsmen at Athlone as hopes of a more fruitful day than the previous one were dashed. With hindsight the dead blackbird on the pavement near the van may have been an omen for what was to come. However humour in the face of adversity as always was the order of the day as an attempt to place the unfortunate bird in the pocket of one paddler which was unfortunately detected  was  then wedged under the vans windscreen wiper completely oblivious to the driver when he pulled off.

From the very start the wind  was blowing straight in our faces but luckily the waves were not so much of a worry in the river than the wide open water of the loughs and did not require us to constantly bale out water. Paul Mundy aka Smeagol reported that he was feeling a bit "Manflu-ey" and did not feel well, but arguing, sneezing and sniffling this bold and gallant pioneer carried on regardless in his pursuit of canoeing immortality demonstrating steadfast loyalty to the his fellow crew..........although he didn't stop bloody moaning all day. Threats of an "oar around the ear" quelled his wailing and he soon buckled down to some light paddle dabbling.

As predicted it was very hard going against the wind  and at one stage in a particularly exposed part of the river in was decided that we'd be better of stretching our legs and dragging the boats through the shallows thus giving our arms a rest. Traipsing through these shallows proved possibly to be the coldest time of our voyage. Shivering we blundered on when suddenly a commotion at a boat being lugged up ahead broke the monotony. In an apparent loss of all faculties Steve was shrieking and ferociously kicking the boat and it was assumed that "the hand of madness" has swept upon him. Noel appeared to be making some type of rescue attempt as it was realised that Steve was under a sustained attack.

Vicious beast repelled as crewman wins
battle to keep foot in tense life and death
struggle at Irish swamp

"Get it off ! Get the f****** thing off" Steve cried as he continued to boot the boat in an attempt to dislodge the beast.

It was surmised that a " diabolical and aggressive pike-like creature of hideous proportions" had bit him through his shoe !. The rest of the team idly sauntered up to aid in the audacious rescue effort giving no thought to the possibility of coming to a sticky end themselves at this Irish riverside. Closer inspection of the monstrosity attached to the foot  revealed however that he had stumbled upon a fishermans lure which at most was about four inches long and cunningly disguised to look like a perch. Roaring laughter ensued as thoughts of the cold and wind vanished and ten middle aged men shivering, laughing, and hauling canoes through the reeds in the middle of Ireland must have seemed a rather surreal sight to people in the passing boats.

When discovering a small leech on my own leg and with the "plastic perch" assault  it was decided that we would be best to board the boats again and take our chances against the wind rather than the wildlife. Eventually the wind eased and we reached Shannonbridge. The drivers on the trip were charged with the task of finding camping sites for the lads in the boats. When inquiring in the Shannonbridge tourist office it came as  no surprise to learn that there were no sites in the vicinity. However the person in the office made a phone call and it was decided that we could spend the night in a barn behind a pub on the river bank. This invitation from the Tourist Office was made without the owner of the barn having a clue about his new tenants, and when asked if it would definitely  be ok the response was:-

"Ah don't worry lads it'll be no problem, he wont mind at all"

And they were right he didn't mind at all which sums up the friendliness and relaxed attitude of all the people of  Ireland both sides of the border and if anyone is reading this from across the Irish Sea I thank you all for your hospitality on behalf of all the team.

After frequenting the local hostelries in the village and in particular the fantastic Killeens Bar we retired to our barn which, apart from the snoring of the "Human Generator" (Carl) which forced Shorty to sleep on a wall at the side of the river, slept surprisingly well, except that is for Shorty.

The terrified team have a lay-in covered head-to-toe by sleeping bags to avoid
any rats, mice and spiders not forgetting the dive bombing swallows

Day 5 - Sinking - Bogs - Waves

Lough Ree 

Lough Ree at Galley Bay just East of Knockcroghern Co.Rosscommon was like the proverbial millpond on the morning we started our leg through the lough to Athlone. Sun shining and wind slight, moral was high and an air of confidence and joviality prevailed. After clearing up the cans of budwieser that Jonny had run over the night before we climbed into the canoes ready for a leisurely paddle across the lough. Paddling was easy and the photographers in the boats had time to snap a few shots without fear of being blown backwards by the wind. Ambling along without a care in the world, warm and wind free, I thought myself very privileged to be here at this time in such a glorious setting and without a worry in the world. Jokes and laughter abounded and when one of the crew noticed that the lake had a "few ripples" on the water toward the headland that we were heading, none were too concerned and most shrugged the comment off and indeed pilloried the "over-cautious" orator. Steadily however the wind began to pick up although and the waves grew, not to bad at first but seemingly increasing every few minutes. Slate grey clouds formed seemingly from nowhere and it was noticed that  most of our feet were now submerged in ever deepening  puddles at the bottom of the boats. Rowing was now getting harder and the wind in the lough was producing larger waves which deposited more water in the boats and made for a more roller-coaster ride through the water. At this stage although it was hard work it was quite enjoyable bobbing up and down over the waves and personally I did not feel in danger or unsafe at all. Then we turned around the Warren Point Peninsula. With the waves now as big as we had experienced during the trip doubts grew as to if we could battle through the water to the next headland which looked a long long way. Of the five canoes we had four of them were "rafted" together in two pairs and one canoe remained single. The single seemed to cope much better in the "maelstrom" and surged ahead of the two rafts which were by now almost continually baling out water with  makeshift "milk carton" balers and in the case of the raft which I was in, drifting out  and backwards into the lake. A decision was made to scramble for the peninsula which at the time we thought was one of the many islands in the lough. This course meant that we would be paddling side on to the wind and incoming waves which is not recommended and it was at  this point that my own sphincter started twitching a tad and thoughts of treading water after we had sank abounded. All four of us would have given Redgrave and Pinsent a run for their money as we paddled furiously without a word being uttered  toward the land and safety. Eventually we managed to get near enough to the rocky shore and just about managed to drag the raft out onto the shoreline. The relief was palpable from all four of the crew as, shivering with cold and adrenalin and after relieving our bladders, we hatched, which with hindsight was an absolutely ludicrous plan, to separate the raft and give it a go in single canoes. Dai and Jonny set of first and worryingly rapidly drifted around the other side of the peninsula and out of sight of the two of us left on the beach. 

Warren Point "island" where four
disconsolate Englishmen
thought they would reamin
marooned for all eternity

Mundy and myself made our attempt taking a great effort just to get into the canoe and when we did, drifted alarmingly fast in the sea-like waves out and away from the sure and also in the wrong direction. I will admit now that when being buffeted about  out in that canoe I was as scared as I have been for a long time and remember giving the straps on my life jacket a few tugs to ensure they were as tight as they could be. How we got back in without capsizing will remain a mystery to me and I'm sure also to Mr Mundy . But get back we did and we walked around to the other side of the peninsula and were very relieved to sea both a dripping wet Jonny and Dai folorn like looking out to the water. In fact Dai was the first of the team to plunge into the water and thus for three lucky patrons of the Hope & Anchor winning the pub sweepstake as to who would enter the drink first.

Very genuine worries for the safety of the others were now foremost in our minds as neither were in sight or answered their phones. We had a look around and to our surprise and puzzlement we found a narrow footpath through a wooded area, and when Jonny fired up his GPS app on his phone confirmed that we were in fact on a peninsula and not an island and not lost for all eternity thus spirits were raised a little as we knew we had an exit route. However dragging canoes in flimsy "wet boat shoes" firstly through a damp moss infested wood which spawned thoughts of the film "Deliverance" and a sticky end for us, then through a shin deep bog complimented with what cows deposit from under there tails, up a hill, down a hill, through thistles and nettles, not forgetting the odd horsefly or three, we would probably have been better off setting up home on the shore and adapting to a  life of beach-combing. Survive we did and managed to get the vehicle up to the field we were in and back to "civilisation".  To their credit the canoe with Steve and Noel managed to get to Hodsons Bay albeit with great difficulty and no doubt some hair-raising moments. The other raft sank but was baled out and salvaged and a local fisherman towed four shivering oarsmen into the bay just outside of Athlone Co Westmeath

Lustful fans of Hasadryoar and the Irish Deliverance team
sit outside the Hope & Anchor in hope of a glimpse of the
swashbuckling canoeists 

Everyone eventually arrived safely and more the wiser for the ordeal. Inevitably tales of this epic day will be told to awe struck swooning females, of the heroic battle against the cruel Irish elements with wildly exaggerate stories of ten foot waves, wild winds, demented Irish woodsmen, horsefly's the size of budgies, and bogs up to the armpit. Women will flock to the Hope & Anchor to meet the legendary Hasadryoar and the team. No doubt we will have to deal reporters, offers of drinks, lustful nights with nubile young things, and no doubt marriage

.............we'll be in the Hope on Friday night watching the England match.

Day 4-Ventriloquist - Rain - Smeagol - Mundy Video

Paul aka Smeagol (left) in a rare moment
of abstinence 

Paul Mundy aka Smeagol has somewhat suprisingly emerged as the best drinker on the trip, ahead of the legendary Hasadryoar. Whist being acknowledged as the heaviest drinker his diminutive stature seems ill equipped to hold the vast amounts of liquid imbibed . His antics at the camp site at Eniskillen last night  produced probably the best laugh of the whole trip.

An attempt to sit down in his seat after sinking about a dozen cans of cider was about as dainty as the first moon walk. Amid raucous laughter he stumbled and lurched toward his chair which was worryingly quite near the camp fire. Eventually managing to deposit his meagre frame on his seat his meandering only served to shake up the contents of the can he was holding which when opened inevitably spilled out all over his hand and onto the deck.

After a marvellous breakfast at he farmhouse of our extremely friendly Northern Irish hosts we were all set up for the next leg of canoeing. A grey and drizzly day was not to much of a worry as it seemed the dreaded wind had died down from the storm during the night. We boarded the canoes in our sheltered inlet of the Shannon only to be stopped in our tracks after about five minutes by a whistle from the last boat. Jonny had forgotten to put his life jacket on. A deluge of sarcastic comments flowed as he paddled back to retrieve the essential wear. Our hopes of a relatively wind free leg of paddling were dashed as we turned into the Shannon from our small tributary river. A strong headwind meant for another gruelling days paddling to the Irish Republic border. The customary swearing and ranting at the wind arose as the canoes struggled against the blow. When the wind was this strong during the voyage, which actually was most days, it is not so much the physical effort of paddling, which is hard enough, but the mental strength not to give up. Each had there own way of dealing with it Jim for instance just put his head down and stared trance like at the small whirlpools stired up by his oar. This technique was probably not best served however while sitting at the back of the boat where you had the responsibility of steering the vessel as on occasions we found ourselves careering towards  "The Green" (reeds,trees, bank, etc.) My own method when at the front and free from steering duties was to shut my eyes and think of............well that's personal.....but they were bloody nice thoughts ;-) As his monika suggests Hasadryoars' way of dealing with the wind was simply to lay his paddle across the boat and have a swig of whiskey and a fag.

  Irish Waterways  had kindly supplied all the team with a camping mug and as we were about to be very thankful for, some very nifty sky blue waterproof ponchos. All of a sudden the heavens opened and a torrent of rain accompanied the strong wind and cascaded down. Rather than quashing any remaining spirit  the team had it actually was very funny and managed to  spur us all on. The sight of ten sunburned, windswept, and drenched Limey's paddling down the River Shannon in monsoon conditions must have had any local Ulster folk shaking the heads in bewilderment and asking the question why ?. The shower only lasted for fifteen minutes or so and when it stopped we decided on a bit of a mid-river break. Suddenly the tranquillity of our little breather  was disturbed by a rather irate looking man shouting and wildly waving in arms in the gardens of a posh hotel on the far bank. Had we inadvertently paddled into a private salmon stretch of the river ?. A hush was called and we strained to heart what the bloke was shouting at us. A lull in the wind enabled us to hear....

" Hey you boys there...Are yea all from Leamington Spaar ?"  

Puzzled we asked each other if we heard correctly. The Ulster-man repeated his question..

" Yes you boys......Are yea from Leamington Spaar ?"

We heard right..

"Yeah"

Punching the air he said:

" Fair play to you boys, keep going now, well done you boys....hoorah hoorah"

We can only surmise that he had heard of our exploits on the radio or we had met him earlier on route and spoke to him. Either way he took the trouble to run out of the hotel and down the bank and cheer us on. This sums up the friendliness and hospitality we received from the people of Northern Ireland, and I think I can speak for all that his action motivated us all to keep going and will serve as a reminder of our time in Ulster.

Team bewildered  by dummy-less ventriloquist apparently offering
food and water in rural  Co.Fermanagh  

We eventually made the border and disembarked at a bridge at Derrylin Co. Fermanagh on the border with The Republic. We met with even more warmth from a local whose land we  dragged the boats out onto. Without moving his lips he said very quietly:

" umm err ssmm err WATER ?..aah umm haa..smmerr  nnnnnnn  COOKING "?.

None who were listening to the man had a blind clue what he was saying except for the two words Water and cooking. We concluded that he was offering us water and something to eat but before we could answer he casually ambled off back to his house waving and wishing us luck (I think). Dai then told the lads who were out of earshot of the man that we had obviously just met a fine Irish ventriloquist which met with widespread merriment from all.

We eventually drove over the border and found a camp-site at Knockcroghery Co.Roscommon to start at Lough Ree in the morning.

LINK TO PHOTOGRAPHS

Day 2/3" Adebayor", Snarts, Human Generator

Paul "Has-A-Dry-Oar Bannan prepares for the gruelling
Lough Erne leg with two fags and a good cough at Dale Farm
Campsite

 Those who followed the Mongol Rally on this blog last year will undoubtedly be aware of the notoriety of Paul Bannan aka Lone Wolf. Since starting the Irish expedition Lone Wolf has been issued with a new moniker. Before revealing this new handle a little explanation may be required. Footballer Emmanuelle Adebayor has a reputation of being a bit lackadaisical when on the pitch strolling around seemingly without a care in the world. Mr Bannans approach to paddling seems to be much in the same mould as his illustrious counterpart rarely going full pelt while paddling. When a conversation in the middle of the River Bann turned to football and  the subject of Adebayor, thinking of the footballer one of the team  came up with the brilliant name of "has-a-dry-oar due to his oar spending more time in the boat than in the water. Hence his new was name was spawned. Paul "Has-A-Dry-Oar Bannan a name which all over here bar just one took to immediately.

Today (26 August) we have reached  Enniskellen in Northern Ireland via a very hard leg due to wind and curent through the length of the beautiful Lough Erne which is about 20 odd mile of gruelling paddling. Unfortunately Jim and myself (Kev M.) had the misfortune to be paired up with a couple of "greenhorns" namely Shorty, and The Doctor two of the designated drivers who "fancied" a crack at a spot of paddling. Both were subjected to a torrent of abuse and vitriol by myself and Jim for not being up to the required standard which befits such experienced and prolific oarsmen as Jim and myself (?). In fact I'm sure I saw a barnacle attach itself to The Doctors paddle such was the slow momentum of oar through water.Generally all is going very well on the trip and all are in good spirit that is until it comes to attempting to get some sleep at night. We have discovered that we have a human generator in our midst in the shape of Carl. A generator is the nearest I can describe the noise emanating from his tent whilst he is in slumber. It is a constant un-human like commotion which must be heard by people a good 10 miles away. Comments from most tents were aimed at the completely oblivious Carl some in jest, some in frustration at their lack of sleep, at the racket he manages to produce. At the time of writing the field about 50 yards away from the other tents looks a favourable spot for his tent  to enable the chance of a good nights kip for the rest

The team arrive at Lough Neagh only to be advised by
locals that paddling on the Lough in the present wind conitions
would not be a good idea.........So we went to the pub

Other news involves unsuprisingly both Carl and Hasadryoar. Both have had hygiene mishaps and seem incapable of controlled lower bowel movemen which I will not elaborate on.

If all goes well by the end of  tomorrow we will reach the Shannon and favourable currents to take us into the Republic of Ireland.

P.S Noel has asked me to write about his heroic paddling, sparkling wit, inexhaustible wisdom, and impeccable charm so as to impress mates and work colleagues alike. His generosity has also come to the fore as he bought me a splendid boxed china mug so I
could sip my morning tea in luxury ;-)

Day 1/2 - Giants Causeway/ Indecent Exposure

Paul "Golem" Mundy appears ecstatic about the unique
rock formation of the Giants Causeway

After a sleepless and uncomfortable night trying to get a kip courtesy of the harsh furniture of Irish Ferries we faced the 150ish mile trip north via Belfast to the Giants Causeway on the north coast of Northern Ireland. A quick gander at the unusual geological feature met with a mixed response from the team. Some marvelled at the structure of the rocks others, in fact most, thought the the gentle stroll was a complete and utter waste of their precious time which to them could have been better spent sipping whiskey in the near by bar. After tearing ourselves away from this wonder of nature we headed for Camus the venue of our launch. After bursting in the car park with three vehicles with thirteen unkempt individuals it was no surprise that the couple and small child made a hasty retreat when faced with certain paddlers changing into their canoeing lycra, wedding tackle swinging freely and brazenly for all and sundry to admire/laugh at.

The excited paddlers prepare for action  totally oblivous
to the distress they caused to local family

We all boarded the canoes without serious mishap and morale was high after setting of at a blistering pace up the river Bann. Unfortunately the enthusiasm waned somewhat as the strong current was against us and not only that, the wind had decided that it not be with us this day which made for very heavy going. I'd say it took me personally about half an hour for the forearms,biceps,neck,groin, and whatever other muscle you care to mention to tell me that this ain't gonna be easy! Morale had plummeted and questions no doubt cultivated into the tiny minds of the paddlers as to how we are going to cope with ten days of this ?. Except for Lone Wolf of course whom in times of hardship turned to his tried and trusted method of dealing with distress and self-doubt...... A half litre bottle of rough Irish Whiskey which was frequently shared by Kev K and Pete. We did eventually manage to complete the required stage and reached our camping site which surprise surprise was situated about twenty five yards from a local hostelry. Suddenly all thoughts of the gruelling days paddling were lost as the site of the pub lifted morale. Men were reduced to tears and openly rejoiced as they were now catapulted into their comfort zones. Lone Wolf particularly was overcome with emotion. Resplendent in a very fetching light green safari waistcoat number, he was in the zone. However a mixture of being absolutely knackered and lack of sleep resulted in most only having some food and a couple of pints before retiring to the tents for a well earned kip.

Leamington to Holyhead

Dai take time out from his stressful journey
sitting in the front seat of the car with
more leg room than anyone else

02:05 hrs and all but three of the Glorious Endeavours rabble are lying prostrate on the ferry furniture attempting to get a few hours kip before the mornings paddling starts believe me it is not a pretty site.
Actuallly I think I'll join 'em in their slumber as I am struggling to keep my eyes open and the old grey matter needs to recuperate.

More and better updates to follow when the real adventure starts over the Irish Sea.

The Full Irish Deliverance "Dream Team"

The Full Monty: Back row from left to right -
Kev K, Dai, Pete, Lone Wolf, Neil, Jonny, Kev M, Carl.

Front Row:
Paul, Noel, Steve, Jim.
I think you'll agree, or perhaps not, that in the sporting world rarely has there been such a conglomeration of superb athletes at the pinnacle of their sporting prowess assembled at one time. Jessica Ennis, Mo Farah, Daley Thompson, Usain Bolt, Steven Redgrave, Eric The Eel...
EAT YOU HEARTS OUT

PLEASE SPONSOR US HERE

Please Donate

Jonny Devaney is fund raising for Warwickshire and Northamptonshire air ambulance. So is Kevin Massey, Hope-and Anchor, Paul Mundy, Paul Bannan, Kev Kennedy, Pete Marsh, Carl Taylor, Shorty Barrett, Neil Thomson, Jim Pittaway, and Noel. !

www.justgiving.com/Glorious-Endeavours

River Wye Canoeing

Irish Deliverance crew model latest "must have" wear for the discerning canoeist

Three of the teams "athletes" limber up in the glorious English summer ready
for the River Wye challenge.

PLEASE SPONSOR US  HERE

River Wye - Ross to Symonds Yat

Stunning Wye valley scenery

All but two of the Irish Deliverance Adventures made the journey south-west towards Ross on Wye in Herefordshire for the latest "training" expedition for Ireland. Worries that the trip would be cancelled were unfounded as we were informed that the river after the recent rains was at the maximum level allowed for canoes. You might have thought that we had arrived early at the Wye as the M5 motorway probably had as much water flowing down it as the river itself. Undaunted we plodded on via a diversion as the M50 motorway was closed due to bridge repairs. After a full English Breakfast in a local greasy spoon and a couple of slugs of rough Scottish whiskey by Lone Wolf, we headed riverside bellies full ready for the paddle down the swollen river to Symonds Yat and Ye Old Ferrie Inn. After completing a safety briefing the bewildered boss of the canoe company threw more than a couple of glances at Jim's rather fetching  seal skin "100%" waterproof Carlos Fandango socks as displayed in the photo. He managed to keep a straight face when he learned that the rest of Jims' attire was, from the middle shin up, about as waterproof as sponge. The instructor was left in no doubt by one of the other lads that Jims' chosen leggings were in fact a fashion statement and would surely impress any female canoeists en route. It was decided that we were to have two canoes strapped together due to the high level of the water which would minimise the chance of capsizing and an unwanted dip in the drink.

Jim modelling latest "must be seen in"
lower shin canoeing fashion wear

 As soon as we got onto the river it was obvious that we would easily arrive before the five hours we had to get to Symons Yat. We could have probably drifted the thirteen mile or so in that time due to the fast current of the river. Our other training sessions had been on local rivers in the Leamington area and as enjoyable as they had been the Wye was stunning. The river was wide, fast, and meandering, the high wooded valley breathtaking. Even Lone Wolf commented on the beauty of the area in between the many swigs he had from the whiskey bottle and dipping constantly into his bag for food. The food he produced from that bag could have probably lasted a paddle the length of the Nile. Snickers bars, Mars bars, whiskey, chocolate muffins, cereal bars, whiskey, ham, cheese sandwiches, whiskey, and more appeared at regular intervals. Seagulls trailed the canoe like they do trawlers hoping for a crumb or two as Lone Wolf scoffed and imbibed continuously. The trip down to Symonds Yat passed relatively uneventfully as most just took in the marvellous setting.The solitude and peace was interrupted by Pete however as suddenly he let out a blood curdling scream arms thrashing and smacking the back of his neck. His perception of the incident was that he thought a "massive dragonfly" had attacked him whilst paddling. The actual cause of his terror was that Kev K had picked up a floating branch and skilfully managed to brush Petes' neck thus simulating an insect offensive on his nape.

Lone Wolf takes a "little something to warm me up" sip
from the well thumbed whiskey bottle

Arriving at Symonds Yat a long time before our arranged lift back to Ross saw us head inevitably to Ye Old Ferrie Inn. A sign outside advertised that today there was a cider festival and locally concocted ciders were available. Steve was the first to head for the cider room. I thought it a little alarming that when asking Steve for a sip of his cider to try he replied "don't try it just by a pint". So I did. I wish I hadn't . The first sip literately had my right eye squinting and taste buds on the tongue telling me NO !. What they made this swill with I'd rather not think about. I managed to get the pint down eventually and noticed an information leaflet for the different festival ciders on sale. Unfortunately, and after just one glass of this stuff I could not focus on the words. My face burning, my taste buds working overtime and my sight blurred I made the wise decision not to indulge in another glass of this vicious brew.

All in all a great day was had in the magnificent Wye valley and if the River Shannon proves as spectacular we are all in for treat. Just hope there are no cider festivals over there.

Pure joy in Lone Wolfs  face as he discovers that he still has three chocolate
muffins remaining

PLEASE SPONSOR US HERE.

Back of the T-Shirt complete with route 

Front with silhouette of Lone Wolf with can in hand

IRISH DELIVERANCE T-SHIRTS !!

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151056881977386&set=a.10150948028012386.475784.680987385&type=1&theater

Back of T-Shirt - https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151056887407386&set=a.10150948028012386.475784.680987385&type=1&theater

Irish Deliverance T-Shirts surely destined to be the latest trend in The Spa are now available for purchase. £20 English pounds will secure you this once in lifetime chance to own such a ground-breaking garment.

T-Shirts available from the Hope & Anchor but hurry as the queues are already gathering and tents are being pitched outside the pub as we speak ready for the launch. We anticipate there may be scuffles from buyers to obtain this iconic garb.

Press link above to view the T-Shirt.

LINK TO OUR JUST GIVING SPONSOR SITE 

Second training session - Stoneleigh-Warwick-Radford-Leamington- UPDATE

Launching Point : The River Sowe
at Stoneliegh 

Let me begin with an ominous statistic: After two training sessions and an approximate total mileage of around 20 miles, almost 50% of the Irish Deliverance crew have found themselves in the "drink". I wont bother with the exact mathematical probability, but it does strike me as a sound bet that after about 370 miles of paddling in Ireland all can expect a fair amount of time doggy paddling in the Shannon rather than paddling in the canoe.

At the crack of dawn 9:30 (?) the team minus one, who was on holiday, faced the longest stint in the canoes so far. A fifteen mile paddle from the River Sowe at Stoneleigh via The Saxon Mill on to Warwick, up onto the canal at the viaduct then, unbelievably, past the Moorings Pub without stopping for "refreshment", up to Radford, under a hedge back onto the River Leam, and finally to the Leam Boat Centre. Problems were the order of the day from the onset as three journeys to Stoneleigh had to be made to transport the boats. On reaching the start at Stoneleigh Church, party preparations were well under way on the church grounds for the Diamond Jubilee celebrations. To get to the launching point the transport for the canoes had to drive down a private road leading to the river. This despicable act of wanton trespass served to upset a couple of the locals working on the party. Luckily the teams diplomatic attaché Jim P. managed to sweet talk the concerned woman with the sort of spiel that a member of the House of Commons would be proud. Unfortunately the woman's husband proved a tad more malevolent. You would have thought that a party of Afghan asylum seekers had set up a dozen tents on his front lawn. James' temper held however and the "gentleman" stormed off incoherently ranting and gesticulating back to his cottage by the river. No hard feelings amongst the paddlers were detected as the team wished him well and hoped it did not rain to hard on him for his party and he didn't slip in the mud and break his back on the way home. 

Pete inspects joints in the brickwork
before ill-fated descent of the weir

Weirs are proving to be the most entertaining of obstacles in our quest. Three were "dealt with" yesterday  one in particular  causing extreme hilarity for most of the crew. I for one only knew of one weir on yesterdays route that being the one at the Saxon Mill. The first had me and others literately crying uncontrollably with laughter. I must say Steve and myself tackled the obstruction rather successfully I thought, and managed both to get in the boat at the bottom with only the shins and feet getting wet due to a precarious slide down the very slippy gradient of the weir. Sitting smug in the boat we turned to watch the drama unfold as the Jonny and Dai  decided on a different and more ambitious method of descent which was...... paddle straight over the edge !. Ensconced in the boat awaiting the attempt I did mention to Steve but not the others, that if they opt for this approach that it could end in tears, in fact tears of laughter from the rest. At the top of the weir Dai positioned  himself at the front of the boat as Jonny, knee deep in the river, nudged the canoe right to the edge of the drop. Dai's face wore a rather apprehensive look as the boat was teetering on the edge with Jonny yet to board. Dai was by this time ordering Jonny in no uncertain terms to "Get in the f****** boat and taking the hint Jon managed to scramble in. Both "bumped" in their seats to nudge the canoe forward for the dive...........then it happened........ the boat tipped.....the faces of the occupants both obtained a look of dread........... and in seconds an undecipherable shout from Dai preceded the boat plummeting at an alarming angle into the frothing water below and both the canoeists were in the drink. They say laughter is the best medicine and if this is the case then the rest of the team will never have a days illness again. Rarely can I remember laughing so raucously than at that moment. When they both emerged from under the  water the inquest started between the two as to whose fault it was with both naturally blaming the other. One of the people in fits of laughter was Pete. This mirth was not to last long. On seeing the Devaneys predicament he opted for the seemingly less hazardous route of the slippery weir. Three tentative steps later his footing failed miserably and as a consequence sent him sliding penguin like down the weir and  into the aqua thus sharing the same fate as the other two. Cue more tumultuous merriment amongst the dry members of the team.

Kev K. gracefully disembarks at the
Saxon Mill despite Kev M trying to poke him
back with a paddle

Spontaneous laughter erupted during the rest of the journey just thinking about the three reluctant swimmers. After that nothing could really match those moments. The diners at the Saxon Mill who had window seats  while eating their meals seemed to find it highly amusing as they watched us trying to get out of the canoes and climb up on the wall. Miraculously none fell in despite the less than nimble footwork when scrambling over the other canoes to get out. The rest of the trek went relatively well except maybe when a resident of "private" car park/garden where we hauled the canoes out to avoid another weir phoned the police and complained we were trespassing. As it probably was not on the heinous crime category that the resident seemed to think we saw nothing of the local constabulary. We completed the voyage tired but happy and are all looking forward to the trip to the River Wye trip.

CANOE LIMBO VIDEO

PHOTOS

LINK TO SPONSOR SITE

Update

Pub local Dave "The Grave" Shepherd begrudgingly donates his 25p as other
pub locals cower in the corner in case of any
 backlash from the local firebrand 

Pub local Dave "The Grave" Shepherd has astonishingly donated monies to our charity. Other locals looked on agog as The Grave put pen to paper and unlikely as it may appear, actually put his hand in his long long pocket and forked out the 25p he found on the floor of the Cask and Bottle while cleaning the pub. Whether or not we can accept this lavish offer is subject to speculation as we are awaiting a psychiatric assessment from Rampton High Security Hospital.

First Swimming....sorry..... Canoeing trial.

From Left to Right - Lone Wolf, Carl, Jim, Jonny, Kev K, Pete, Noel, Kev M, 

Paul. 

Yesterday at approximately 14:00 hrs an "impressive" team of nine "gallant" souls took to the cruel waters of the mighty River Leam on the first training session leading up to to the Irish Deliverance beano. After a week of persistent rain in the Leamington area the river was running high and fast which would prove to be testing conditions for all, but especially two of team. Nine of the Eleven adventurists (One in Yorkshire and one called mysteriously to work on a Saturday?) arrived at The Leam Boat Centre in dribs and drabs sporting an interesting choice of apparel most completely inadequate for an afternoons paddling. Eye contact was averted as other patrons of the boat centre must have thought that a "care in the community" day out had arrived for a gentle paddle around the small pond in front of the centre. Lone Wolf who for people who read the Mongol Rally blog will be only to aware of, arrived with nothing but two cans of Tennants Super Tramp Juice which if you study the photography above, can be seen bulging unashamedly in his pockets. One of the cans was opened and quaffed rapidly as Lone Wolf started the day as he meant to go on. Fortunately he refrained from hurling the empty can in the river and embarrassing all, but calmly placed the can down on the counter for one of the staff to dispose of. The first leg of the jaunt was to Warwick where we would join the River Avon for a hundred yards or so and then disembark and haul the canoes up on the viaduct to the canal then head back toward Leamington. No real mishaps befell the team bar from a few collisions with the bank (Steering difficulties) which in turn meant wrestling with some overhanging willow trees to avoid head-butting any branches. The inclement weather fortunately was enough to allay the threat of "friends" pelting us from the bridges with eggs and flour however when approaching any bridge a nervous anticipation of a pummelling was a constant threat for all, that is except Lone Wolf who was completely oblivious due to the Tramp Juice. Well earned refreshment was needed and the canal side Moorings Pub served as the ideal opportunity for drink and reflection on our progress. Now getting in and out of a canoe is not as easy as it sounds especially for anyone who ain't got a clue how to approach this task. I can advise from newly found experience that climbing over one boat to get into another is not to be recommended. How I never ended up it the cut was pure luck. Of course this caused much hilarity in the others. We eventually all climbed in our various boats only for Jonny & Kev.M to be sat the wrong way round, and Carl & Paul to be actually sat facing each other. More precarious manoeuvres were needed to correct the blunders but all survived without an early swim. The canal leg of the trip was a tad harder as the wind was blowing straight at us but we eventually arrived at the place where we rejoined the river. After clambering through a  

Jim discovers Mundys' plight

hedge it became immediately obvious that the final leg may  be more testing as the river was narrow, overhung by various trees and fauna, and moving rather rapidly. A lot of contact with the bank and overhanging trees ensued but all boats escaped serious trouble.... Enter the bickering team of Carl and Paul : Constantly and amusingly arguing and griping throughout the day they took a bend in the river perhaps a little faster that they should.......No DEFINITELY faster than the should have. An almighty sound of boat hitting tree filled the air followed by a splash, followed by " Mundy you stupid bast"........Splash. Paul (Mundy) and Carl were in the drink with Paul drifting alarmingly fast down the river clinging for dear life on to the upturned boat. Carl, hippopotamus like, blundered up the bank and was out in seconds. The rescue of Paul was now paramount and Jonny and Kev.M (the only boat near at the time of capsizing ) sprung into action....that is after Jonny took a few photo's for the blog and Kev. M managed to stop his uncontrollable laughter. Paul, teeth chattering by now was eventually caught and managed to grab the side of the boat and was then shepherded to the bank where Carl much to the amusement of the rest of the team gripped his collar and hauled him roughly  up through a small bramble thicket. The two sodden and shivering "sailors" then traipsed off  arguing and squelching for a lovely ten minute stroll to the boat centre. The remaining canoeists plus one empty boat, continued the short journey which was intermittently slowed down by bursts of  genuine uncontrollable laughter, to meet with the survivors.

Rescue Attempt

Mundy in the drink

Laughter and shivering.

Link to all photos.

First "Training" Session

The River Leam near Jephson Gardens, Leamington Spa where
a very hard hat is advised whilst passing under the bridge

As the Irish Deliverance  looms ever closer it has been deemed necessary for the crew to actually attempt to get into a canoe and try our hands at bit of paddling. After a meeting a couple of weeks ago the first training session was proposed. Jonny's facebook page indicated thus ;

" Irish Deliverance 1st practice will be 6 miles down the white water of L/Spa 28/4,passing a number of pubs on route so this could take a while." 


If we canoe six mile down the mighty Leam through two tricky weirs, we'll actually be in the Avon. There again if we decide to head up river against the remorseless current then six miles will probably have us wedged in between the two banks and the bottom of the canoes scraping pebbles. But obviously the decision will be made according to the number of drinking establishments adjacent-ish to the banks. If enough pubs cannot be found then there is always the canal which can boast a fine choice of taverns which ever direction you go.

LINK TO OUR SPONSOR SITE

OH MY GOOD GOD

Irish Deliverance Profiles. (New paddler recruited)

Name:  Paul 
Role :   Front-line paddler, Angler, Boat figurehead, Ballast.

Age:     36 (I think that's what he'd have me believe)
Born:    Leamington Spa 
Work:  Dust Monkey, ex Jockey (Sausage)
Married:  Yes to gambling, and The Hope and Anchor.
Drinking:  Premiership. Tends to linger on and have 5 or 6 " for the road".
Interests: 9 card brag, Gambling, Pole Vault. Poking  his I-phone.

Paul's main concern about the Irish Deliverance trip is his inability to swim. Actually that statement is not quite accurate as he did inform me that he is perfectly able to swim a maximum of about 5 yards....problem is that he can only achieve this stupendous feat underwater. Therefore we have decided to add a gaff to our kit as insurance just in case, or perhaps more likely, he tumbles overboard thus ensuring brisk recovery.

LINK TO OUR SPONSOR SITE

Jonny Bolt

Northumberland Road, Leamington Spa where residents
where shocked to see an athlete of Jonnys standing gracing their
salubrious tree lined avenue.

The arduous task of training for the Irish Deliverance trip has started for least one of the team. Jonny was spotted by myself bounding "gazzelle-like"  up a very select and leafy avenue in Leamington. Resplendent in suspiciously new looking jogging gear, he no doubt had neighbourhood watch operatives nervously reaching for their phones as this dodgy looking character invaded their territory. However it cannot be discounted that before he saw me  he may very well have just been taking a gentle amble, then on spotting me called out to attract my attention and proceeded to sprint past in a time that Usain Bolt would be proud of. Still either way he has got the ball rolling. The only exercise Jim, Steve, and Lone Wolf seem to have embarked upon is lifting a pint pot to their mouths. Dai nonetheless is known to do a bit of running and also cycles to his work in Coventry of a morning so may well be ahead of us all

LINK TO OUR SPONSOR SITE