From bjg@wordwrights.ie Sat Apr 17 22:34:52 1999
Date: Sat, 10 Apr 1999 09:52:10 GMT
From: Brian J Goggin <bjg@wordwrights.ie>
Reply-To: canals@blacksheep.org
To: canals@blacksheep.org
Subject: Trip report: Irish Grand Canal Part 3 (long)

The final part of the account of our trip from Shannon Harbour to
Lowtown.

Sunday was to be make-or-break day: nine locks fairly close together
to get past Tullamore, followed by an 18-mile level. If we got well
down the level on Sunday, we'd have only a short distance to go on
Monday and could get home fairly early on that day.

We had decided to try to bring the car along: we couldn't be sure of
getting a taxi or a lift from Lowtown back to Rahan, or not at least
without a long delay. The adults would take turns on car and boat, but
whoever was in the car would try to get to the locks (bringing a
lifejacket, a lock key and a boathook) to have them ready for the
boat. This plan worked *fairly* well, but not perfectly.

At the first of the locks (Lock 29), the (female) lockkeeper got up,
even though it was early on Easter Sunday morning, to help us through.
I was able to drive along the towpath to the next lock: we were a bit
nervous about this stretch, coming in to Tullamore, because there had
been reports of stones being thrown at passing boats (which was why we
set off so early), but in the event we saw nothing more sinister than
a boy throwing rubbish into the canal. And the keeper was there again
at Lock 28.

It was noticeable that we were now within the boundaries of a town:
there was far more rubbish in the water, including a large number of
plastic bags and several floating planks that had to be cleared to let
the gates open.

The same was true at Lock 27, where a different keeper took over. Just
after that, another cruiser of the same type, *Maid of Erne*, passed
in the other direction. The keeper also helped at Lock 26, on the far
side of Tullamore, but I could not drive from there to Lock 25: I had
to go back into Tullamore and drive out again, so the boat got to Lock
25 before me. Again, a keeper came to help us, but most of the work
was done by then.

While I'm on the subject .... Most of the locks were in good
condition. Some had indeed been freshly painted; more had recently had
their racks greased; almost all gates worked easily except for one or
two in Tullamore, where stones had been dropped in behind the gates to
stop them from opening fully. Even there, though, there was no real
problem.

One quirk of design was that at some of the locks there are ground
racks; if they're not dropped fully, the breast (top) gates can't be
opened fully.

I drove the towpath to Lock 24, where there was no sign of the keeper.
Just above it is the base of Celtic Canal Cruisers, which has a fleet
of broad- and narrow-beam canal boats for hire; we had met several of
them along the way, all looking in good condition. There, we bought
diesel: it's the only place between Banagher (on the Shannon) and
Lowtown that diesel is available at the canal-side, and we felt it was
wise to top up. I had an interesting chat with Heather Thomas, who
runs the hire firm, about boating and hiring and relations between
private owners and hire firms.

We also checked the weed-filters and prop. We had done that every time
we stopped the engine, without finding anything on the prop so far ---
and with very little in the weed-filters (although it was great just
to be able to look in to see how much had accumulated). Here, for the
first and only time, we found plastic on the prop-shaft and a plastic
bag in the weed filter, the result of travelling through Tullamore.
Neither had discommoded us, but we were glad to be able to get rid of
them so easily.

In the stretch from Lock 24 to Lock 23 the Irish girls rowing squad
was practising in coxless fours. We thought they'd get in the way, but
in fact they were much faster than we were and they reached the far
end (where there is a rowing-club) long before we did. I don't think
they could race on that stretch: the canal is only wide enough for one
boat at a time.

There were several neat houses along this stretch, the occasional one
with a small boat tied to the bank nearby. We also noticed some
shallow rectangular tanks (some metal, some wooden) tied to the banks
but sunk just below the surface; I have no idea what they were.

Anne had taken over the car at Lock 24 and took us through Locks 23,
22 and 21. Then she drove over, and we motored past, a narrow,
hump-backed bridge spanning the blocked-up entrance to the former
branch line to Kilbeggan; we stopped at Ballycommon for lunch. The map
said that there was water there, but we didn't find it.

Much drama at Ballycommon. Ian decided to fish from the side of the
boat; he fell in. He was, of course, wearing his life-jacket, and he
was hauled out within one minute, but he was soaked, shocked and cold.
I retrieved the lifebelt, which I had accidentally dropped over the
side; then, while Anne was drying Ian, Carolan and I used the Sea
Searcher to retrieve Ian's fishing-rod, which had sunk. (It's amazing
how it can attach itself to a tiny piece of magnetic material.) I
stowed the rod on the roof, while Carolan walked around the boat to
the quay, winding up the rope on the Sea Searcher, and then stepped
back on to the boat. But she missed; one leg fell between boat and
quay; she cut her finger quite badly but got herself up very quickly.
The medical kit was called into action for the first time ever;
Carolan was sick from the dual shock; Ian was crying .... We wrapped
both of them up in sleeping-bags and fed them chocolate; neither was
seriously injured but perhaps warnings about care on deck will carry
more weight in future. If we had to have accidents, I'm glad they were
mild, with no major harm done; I hope we'll experience nothing worse.

The accidents delayed us, and it was late when we left Ballycommon,
starting out on the long level, 18 miles. Anne took Ian in the car
while I drove the boat, with Carolan on call for emergencies only. At
Daingean, where Anne had tried and failed to buy petrol and Sunday
newspapers, and where the folklife collection of the National Museum
is stored in boxes in a former reformatory, Anne and I swapped over. I
found petrol and one newspaper at a wayside station and drove to Rhode
for the next changeover. The boat was a long time coming; I drove up
and down as much of the towpath as I could (which wasn't much: a fair
bit of that stretch is inaccessible by road) but saw nothing; the boat
appeared to be in an area where mobile phones wouldn't work --- and I
began to regret that I hadn't trained the others in using the VHF.

Eventually the boat came around the corner, and I was mightily
relieved. The canal was spanned by a bridge for the light railway that
carries turf (peat) from the bogs to power-stations; those bridges are
supposed to be left open for boats or to have someone stationed there
when the railway is in use. We had passed one of them the previous day
and there had been a man there.

This time, the bridge was closed to boats. And the old advice to wind
the bridge yourself, adjusting your lock key by sticking a coin in the
hole, wouldn't work: an electric keypad was now in use. Eventually
Carolan found a code number scratched on a piece of metal; she tried
it --- and the bridge opened. She then closed it after the boat
(probably to the inconvenience of the sailing-boat we met later on,
heading for the Shannon). The whole thing was worrying; I intend to
write to the Powers That Be about it. There seemed to be no way of
summoning help or asking advice; it would take quite a while to get
back to Daingean to look for a phone.

At Rhode, I took over the boat again, I felt that we wouldn't reach
Ticknevin (Lock 20, the end of the long level) that night but that we
might aim for the Blundell Aqueduct, where the map showed we could get
the car alongside the boat. However, when Anne drove down there, she
found it very exposed and windy, so she went to look for somewhere
near Edenderry, which lies up a short branch from the canal. I wasn't
keen to stay in the town basin, though, and she couldn't find anywhere
that we could get the car alongside the boat, so I continued on to
Ticknevin, Anne handing in some chips for the kids before driving
onwards.

By that stage we were all very tired. We were on a very long, wide,
straight stretch of canal, raised above the surrounding bogs, with
only the occasional house in the distance --- and the yellow gorse all
around. It was getting dark, but there was no problem in seeing the
canal and nothing to hit, so we just motored forward. At last
Ticknevin lock came in sight and, well below it, Anne on the bank,
suggesting where we might tie up, away from the noise of the lock. And
so we did, in the middle of nowhere. Dinner had been cooking as we
travelled along, so we ate quickly and went to bed: the night was cold
and we have no heating, so sleeping-bags beckoned.

That was our first real bank mooring; I was pleased that our pins
held, our gang-plank worked, we didn't run aground. In the morning, we
found a strong wind blowing us on to the bank, but we left the bowrope
on and Anne drove forward to swing the stern out and then reversed
into mid-channel: a textbook manoeuvre that worked perfectly. I worked
the lock until the keeper arrived and took over: after the lock filled
he showed me how he could open one half of the gate while standing on
the other (avoiding having to run around), a trick he said he had
learned from an English boater. Wonder who that was ....

Lock 20 is the last before Lowtown, so we were nearly there. But a bog
railway bridge lay ahead: I drove the towpath (through appalling mud
and potholes) to check up on it and found it OK --- only to discover
later that I had been looking at the wrong bridge. (The right one was
OK too, though.) I then drove on to Lowtown and selected a spot where
we could tie up, beside the carpark (if a flat area of mud can be
called that). I found that the person from whom we had bought the boat
had arrived to do some work on her new boat. "What are you doing
here?" she asked. "Waiting for the boat", said I. "But surely it won't
get here from Shannon Harbour for another day or two?" she said. "No,"
I said; "look: here she comes now." And round the corner she came:
ensign flying, aerial aloft, bicycles on the roof, kids standing at
bow and stern with ropes at the ready: our first canal trip, 52 miles
and 17 locks, finished in good condition and in excellent time --- and
positioned for further exploration of the Grand Canal and the Barrow.

bjg