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

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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. !

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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.

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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

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