From bjg@wordwrights.ie Sun Jul 4 10:49:18 1999 Date: Wed, 30 Jun 1999 23:21:53 +0100 From: "Brian J Goggin, Wordwrights, T/F + 353 61 377057" To: George Pearson Subject: Re: River Barrow - Part 2 The cut down to Ardreigh was narrow, with trees on both sides, but with plenty of water in it. We immediately reverted to canal speeds. Just above the lock was a lifting bridge, which was open; then we entered the lock itself, where the fall was only 3' 6". The keeper from Athy did not appear, but we had no problem in operating the lock ourselves. Not far below the lock was the entrance to Levitstown Cut, the longest (2 miles) on the river. The weir was close to the head of the cut so we gave it a bit of welly to get in, then dropped to canal speed again. Like most of the cuts, this one gave a quiet, peaceful passage; sitting on deck we could listen to the birds and try to identify plants. About halfway down the cut, on the left, is the site of Grangemellon Castle, formerly owned by "Handsome Jack" St Leger, who founded the (horse) race called after him. Then, after travelling under a road bridge, we came to another lifting bridge. This one lifts straight up: Arthur wound away with the lock key (assisted by a counterweight) and the entire bridge went ten feet up into the air. Then we came to the beautiful Levitstown Lock, with a ruined mill on the island between cut and river. The sun had (contrary to what the forecasts had said) continued to shine; there were flowers and trees; there may even have been bees murmuring --- although they could have been bluebottles. A car arrived. We thought it might be the keeper come from Athy, but it was a family group intent on catching pinkeens (small fish) by luring them into an empty brandy bottle with a hole cut in the bottom. They asked us for some bread, having forgotten their own, but we had forgotten ours too. I think they made do with some biscuit in the end, lowering the bottle into the cut below the lock with a string around its neck. We hadn't seen this method of fishing before and we didn't stay around to see whether they caught anything. There was a fallen tree in the (non-navigable) part of the river, just above the downstream entrance to the cut; I noted it as a useful marker for coming back upstream. Later, Trevor Fennell said that he thought there were rather too many fallen trees and that the Waterways service should remove more of them. We didn't find that the navigation was blocked, though. A couple of miles downstream, we came to the many-arched Maganey bridge, built in 1790: stone-built with decorative circles on it. The navigation arch is marked on all bridges, so they present no problem. Maganey Lock (3' fall) is a mile or so below the bridge, and here we met Billy O'Neill, the lockkeeper, who looked after us all the way down to Carlow, using his quad bike to travel the towpaths. Below the lock the River Greese came in from the left; there seemed to be some silting, but not enough to cause problems. Then Anne used the mobile phone to ring her friend Wendy Fennell, who lives at Shrule, downstream of Maganey. Wendy told us that she and her family could hear us coming; we were to watch out for a large patch of nettles on the west (right) bank, a patch that formed the first significant gap in the trees. Eventually, just after the River Lerr flowed in under a charming old bridge, we saw the gap --- and, some distance back from the bank, Wendy, Trevor and some of their six children. Their farm runs down to the river. The chart shows an island there; but in fact it seems to be a long peninsula, joined to the mainland at the north end and with deep water between mainland and peninsula. The nettles were on the peninsula; Trevor and Wendy were on the mainland, which was why they seemed to be well back from the bank. Although canal-boats had got in to their cut in the trading days, we decided not to risk bringing the cruiser up there: we didn't know the depths or the rocks and it seemed that overhanging trees might block our entrance. (The Fennells' boat gets in there, but it's smaller and more powerful than ours.) Accordingly, we turned the boat into the current and moored to the east (trackway) bank, with mooring-stakes on the trackway. Wendy said that the entrance to their cut was a small way downstream. We put the outboard on Ian's dinghy and he brought Anne and Carolan over. He came back for Arthur and me, but we felt that somebody should stay with the boat and the dog --- and besides, being somewhat large persons, we didn't want to overload the dinghy. So we stayed aboard in the sunshine and tested the beer, while Anne, Carolan and Ian were royally entertained and saw over the castle as well as the farm. Arthur spoke to someone on his phone and learned that it was raining in Carlow, just a few miles downstream, but the sun stayed shining for us. After an hour or so, Ian made a couple of trips back with Anne, Carolan and some of the younger Fennells, who were to accompany us to Carlow. We got out from under the trees, turned using the current and headed downstream again. There was just one more lock, Bestfield (4' 6"), before Carlow. Then we were into the wide stretch down to Carlow itself. We passed by the sugar factory (on the left) and its settling ponds (on the right), source of a dreadful smell, the only blot on an otherwise pleasant bit of river. Some sugar beet used to be taken to the factory by river: Arthur pointed out the entrance to the former harbour, now filled in. Just outside Carlow is a new bridge; Arthur told us that it is to be named after Bill Duggan, former Chairman of IWAI Barrow Branch and longtime enthusiast for the river. The river coming in to Carlow was wide and relatively calm, with grassy areas on both banks. On the right was the wreckage of a shower and toilet block from which even some of the slates were removed, leaving no facilities for boaters on the river. On the left were the premises of Carlow Boat Club, formerly a canal stores. We tied there briefly, in a secure position outside the windows of the clubhouse, but Wendy arrived by car to collect her children and suggested that we should move down below the bridge: the annual regatta was to take place next day, and the preliminary festivities might affect the children's chances of getting to sleep. The regatta, by the way, is run from the sugar factory to the Boat Club on the Sunday of the June bank holiday. If we hadn't got through that stretch on the Saturday, we would have had to wait until after the regatta. We decided to get below the bridge. And Carlow bridge is the lowest, and the trickiest, on the river. It's a many-arched bridge; the navigation arch is on the left with the trackway (sometimes submerged) running through it. The arch gives 8' 6" clearance over an 8' beam when the trackway is just above the water level. And the bridge-hole is arched: if you're not in the centre, you don't get the maximum clearance. Our air-draught is only 7' 6" (with the bikes stowed below), but our beam is 10' 8", so it was important that we line up properly. Arthur guided us out to the tip of a small island. That enabled us to see the navigation arch (invisible until then) and gave us some valuable time to line up properly. That done, we got through without a problem; Arthur said that, if the flow had been very strong, we would have had to go through backwards to give more control. Just below the bridge we had to cross to the west bank as the trackway changed sides above the head of a large weir, the only one we've seen so far with a guard on it. Then into the lock (4' 5"), where we met Micky, a retired lockkeeper living beside it; we moored at a small new quay just below the lock, with water on tap, enabling us to complete the filling of our tanks. Carlow is an interesting town. Officially, Carlow is on the east bank; the west bank is Graigue-Cullen, in County Laois. And there, between the two, is this interesting old bridge, an impressive weir and a lock. There are also the remains of Carlow castle, which was more impressive until one Dr Middleton, in 1814, tried to convert it into a lunatic asylum. But he used rather too much gunpowder in his efforts to reduce the thickness of the walls and enlarge the windows, so that little of the castle now remains. But Carlow seems to ignore what it has: on the Carlow bank are some tatty old streets with unimpressive shops (though I saw one elegant new block) and a large shed and truck-park, headquarters of a trucking business. On the west bank, meanwhile, there are new apartments and townhouses. There seemed to be three separate developments: one of low town-houses, one converted from old warehouses and one massive five-storey block. Whoever converted the warehouses seems to have been determined to eradicate all traces of their origins: the walls are now pebble-dashed and painted white. The massive block is full of windows and balconies overlooking the river: very sensible, but I wished it wasn't so high: it blocked the sun from us from quite early in the evening. Just in front of the massive block are some old houses, the property of the Waterways service; the retired lock-keeper lives in one of them. Over the years, many of the lock-keepers' houses have been sold off as the numbers of lock-keepers fell; they now make desirable riverside residences. However, I gather that the policy has now changed and that no more will be sold. Just below our mooring were signs of several interesting developments. There were half a dozen wooden holiday chalets --- and a very large wooden house under construction beside them. In the river was a steel party-boat with four dinghies tied to its stern. This large, blocky vessel is designed for cruises on the lower Barrow (it can't get through Carlow bridge) but was awaiting licensing by the Department of the Marine. Above it, on the west bank, is Ceatharlach Moorings, a small harbour. No expense seems to have been spared in its construction: it has a lifting bridge at its entrance (the trackway is high above the water at that point), lights and video-cameras, some landscaping, some floating pontoons --- and no boats except two pedalos. It would be quite difficult for any large boat to get in because the entrance is narrow and at right angles to the flow of the river; there is not much room inside so you couldn't give it welly and hope to stop once inside --- and the piers of the bridge stick out more under water than they do above it. After a bottle or so, during which we chatted to people going for their evening walks along the bank, Arthur left us after providing us with invaluable help and advice throughout a long day. We got some food from a small local shop and cooked rashers with potatoes and a salad. Then Trevor and Wendy arrived, this time by boat, with five of their children; they tied outside us and we shared a few glasses before bedtime. Next: Carlow to Goresbridge. bjg ===ends===== Brian J Goggin (T/F +353 61 377057) Wordwrights ---- education at work All classes of society are trades unionists at heart, and differ chiefly in the boldness, ability, and secrecy with which they pursue their respective interests. (W Stanley Jevons, 1882)