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| 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.
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| 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.
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