From bjg@wordwrights.ie Wed Jun  9 22:55:52 1999
Date: Thu, 10 Jun 1999 01:11:54 GMT
From: Brian J Goggin <bjg@wordwrights.ie>
Reply-To: canals@blacksheep.org
To: canals@blacksheep.org
Subject: Trip report: Irish River Barrow part 3 (long)

We were up early on Sunday morning. Ian and I walked up the town to
get the newspapers and to buy food for lunch. We couldn't find any
very inspiring shops: the best we found, Clelands, had no crackers
other than cream crackers. But we bought a small piece of ham, some
potatoes, a couple of cans of chopped tomatoes and some garlic butter.

The Fennells got up a bit later and did their shopping. They were
joined by a cousin of Wendy's who knew the river. We had a chat with
Billy O'Neill about the state of the river, the amount of traffic, the
weather and anything else that came to mind, undaunted by a little
light rain.

Trevor (who knows about engines) looked at my diesel filter: we
removed quite a bit of glupp from it. It's useful to have empty
oil-containers to take this sort of stuff.

By 12.20 we were ready to go: our boat in front and the Fennells'
behind. We had to watch out for a sign at the entrance to the long
Clogrennan Cut: there is no weir at the head of this cut (Clogrennan
has the only "natural weir" on the Barrow) to warn that the cut is
starting and the island is long and narrow; it would be easy to miss
the entrance. There is an arrow on a signpost at the tip of the
island, but if the nettles grow much more it will be covered.

With all the kids looking for it, we saw the sign and got safely into
the cut. Another very pleasant passage, with trees and greenery. Near
the end, we passed the landing-stage of Barrowline Cruisers, Declan
Timmons's hire firm. There were no boats to be seen: a good sign, as
it meant that they were all out on hire. Declan offers water and
diesel, which is good to know: his was the first place we'd seen that
had diesel available.

On our way down the cut, I noticed that the engine temperature was
creeping up --- and realised that we had not opened the water intake
after clearing the weed filters. We had run for twenty minutes without
any cooling water; another check to be made and another lesson
learned.

Billy O'Neill met us again at the lock (4' 6") and helped us through;
both boats were able to fit in at the same time. Coming out of the
lock we found the river racing in from the left with a lot of force.
We had been warned of this and gave it welly in plenty of time.

Just below the lock, we met *Heather Breeze*, a narrowboat that we had
seen in Vicarstown before. This was the first time since leaving
Vicarstown that we had met another boat: an indication of how little
traffic there is on the river. Admittedly, Saturday would have been
change-over day for the hire firms, but even so I was surprised to see
so few private boats.

There was a strong flow down to Cloydagh Church, in a fairly narrow
stretch, but the river was fairly deep. Then we came to one of the
most charming stretches of all at Milford. Just past a small island,
there was a semi-circular weir on the left (east) and, just below it,
a stone bridge over the main part of the river. Nearby, Strong Stream
Mill (which I couldn't actually see) is said to generate electricity.
Ahead, at the entrance to the cut, was a pleasant stone bridge. And
all around were trees and greenery. Under the bridge, we passed down
the short cut to where we expected to find Milford lifting bridge. The
framework was there on the left, leading to a house on the island, but
the bridge itself was gone.

Billy O'Neill was at the lock; I asked him about the missing bridge
--- and, as he began to tell me the tragic story, I remembered reading
about what happened. Last year, the bridge was being repaired. The
Waterways engineer, Eamonn Dwyer, came one day to inspect the work,
which should have been completed the day before. Somehow, the cables
holding up the bridge counterweight were cut --- and it smashed down
on the engineer, killing him immediately. Billy was hit too, but he
was somehow thrown clear. I was told that he was injured, hospitalised
and off work for some months. The bridge has not been replaced.

A branch with another branch at right angles to it blocked the opening
of one of the gates here: the only problem we had with a lock. We soon
lifted it out of the way.

Coming out of Milford Lock (7' 0"), we saw a beautiful shallow
tree-lined gorge with the river flowing out of it. There were lots of
coarse anglers --- at least half a dozen --- trying their luck. But,
with the current rushing us downstream, we didn't have time to look at
it for too long.

After a mile or so, we came to Aughnabinna Island. This is an
important place because the boatstream leaves the trackway and passes
around the east side of the island instead of the west. There are
large arrows on both ends of the island to remind boaters of this.

After that we had a couple of miles down to Rathvindon Lock. Our
echo-sounder was showing 0.0 a lot of the way, but we didn't hit
anything. Near the Orchard Islands, we had been told that there were
rocks int he river and that it was important to keep to the
boatstream, but I think we'd have done that anyway! In places, the
banks were supported by corrugated sheeting and scaffolding poles.
Later, excavators had been working on the trackway bank, which still
looked a bit raw; no doubt the vegetation will grow back soon.

Then we came to the short cut to Rathvindon Lock (3' 0"), at the head
of a wide weir. John O'Neill, brother of Billy, was there to see us
through and under the navigation arch of Cardinal Moran Bridge. (The
cardinal was born in Leighlinbridge and became a cardinal in
Australia.) The  river, again, came powering in from the left, but it
didn't cause any problem.

John advised us to go below the bridge in Leighlinbridge (pronounced
"Locklenbridge"), cross to the east bank (the trackway crosses to the
east bank and stays there for the rest of the navigation), swing
around and come back up to moor on the west bank. We did that, keeping
to the west of two long, narrow islands and passing under the
many-arched bridge, the oldest on the river (1320). We tied up at a
long quay, beside some old warehouses; John came to see that we were
OK and to check when we wanted to leave in the morning; he intended to
be ready at the first lock.

At the top of one of the old buildings, someone had (under a
corrugated iron roof) a balcony with pots of flowers --- and a
wonderful view over the river. Across the river were the remains of
the Black Castle: you can climb a little way up it and wave across at
your boat.

The village has half a dozen shops, two of them supplying electrical
goods (one doubling as Post Office), several plaques commemorating
famous sons of the village and numerous pubs, one of which, the Lord
Bagenal, is said to have one of the best wine-lists in Ireland. We had
been there in the autumn, at a reception to launch a brochure
published by the Barrow hire-firms; at that launch, there were several
hire-boats (narrowboats and broad-beam boats) tied up outside the pub
at the quay above the bridge.

Ian took Anne and some of the younger Fennells for a trip in his boat,
equipped with oars, walkie-talkie and anchor in case his engine
failed. Then, after exploring the village, the Fennells decided to
continue on downstream to Goresbridge: they had to be back at Shrule
on Monday whereas, if we'd accompanied them, we'd have had nothing to
do on Monday. We stayed put, therefore; Ian studied geography for his
school test while we read newspapers and books. Later, I used a stale
baguette and the garlic butter to make garlic bread (and
garlic-bread-without-the-garlic for Ian). That was followed by baked
ham glazed with marmalade, baked potatoes, garlic mushrooms and a
tomato and herb sauce.

Anne tidied up while Carolan and I brought Goldie for a long walk down
the trackway on the east bank. Just as we got to the weir, it began to
rain. We sheltered under a tree for a while (there was a convenient
bench) before deciding to walk back. On the way, a white open boat
with a 15hp outboard went downstream carrying a party of anglers; one
of them was a boy who had been at Carolan's school --- and whose
mother had been at school with Anne and Wendy.

Back at the boat, we read again. Three young lads sat on a bench near
us --- and Goldie got out to keep an eye on them, lying down facing in
their direction. As soon as they left, he came back inside. There was
no evidence that they intended any harm, but Goldie took no chances.

Later, two different lads sat on the bench; some other lads shouted
and threw stones at them from the bridge. With some roaring, they all
ran off and the village returned to perfect peace, with the lights
illuminating the bridge, the castle and the water.

During the evening, a hire-boat had arrived from downriver and tied
behind us. The couple on board had a dog with them. The following
morning, Goldie and that dog exchanged compliments but decided they
didn't much like each other; they parted in silence.

At 9.30 we set off downriver, ringing John O'Neill to tell him we were
slightly ahead of schedule. At the weir, we entered Rathellin Cut and
passed under two arched bridges built of, or faced with, brick: most
unusual. Just above the lock a hump-backed bridge shows where there
used to be a dry-dock; there is now a house built in the space. Three
people in another house at the lock came out; we thought we recognised
one of them as someone we knew in college, but didn't attempt any fond
reunions.

John was at the lock (6' 1"); he was able to tell us the location of
every boat between us and Goresbridge, warning us about where we might
meet each one. As the downstream boat, we would have right of way, but
things could still get tricky on a narrow stretch.

Below Rathellin there is a swimming-pool on the left bank. After that
we were on the outskirts of Bagenalstown, one of the oddest places on
the river. Its 18th-century builder, Walter Bagenal, wanted to build
an Irish Versailles, but didn't get all that far. The town is laid out
on a grid like many planned towns; it has some impressive buildings
and it has a long quay with various warehouses, a lot of ducks and
well-tended grass areas.

We had heard that things had been stolen from a couple of hire-boats
last year and that one boat had had stones thrown at it; those
incidents had led to the setting up of the Riverwatch scheme, which we
hope will eliminate such attacks. One of the hire-boats was moored at
the quay; the crew seemed cheerful, so it seemed that they had not
been disturbed.

The cut at Bagenalstown is a long one, with several small islands, and
one large one, linked by weirs. At one place, a family fed ducks; we
hoped we didn't run down any of the ducks. On the right, by the
island, a heron stood on a raft, unperturbed by our passage.

To quote the *Guide to the Barrow Navigation of Ireland*:

"The cut and lock at Muine Bheag [Bagenalstown] were originally
constructed by the miller and not by the navigation authorities, and
this section of the navigation remained in the hands of the owners of
the Lodge Mills, Brown & Crosthwait, until 1969. It was then sold to
Peter Denham of the Inland Waterways Association of Ireland for a
nominal amount. It passed to the navigation authorities, by then the
Office of Public Works, in 1988."

Towards the end of the long cut, we came to a miniature harbour, where
tall buildings blocked the sun and where a small empty barge listed to
port. This was the only place we found any significant amount of
rubbish on the water, and most of it was wood and weed; we cut the
engine to get through it, just in case. Then we passed under the
remains of a lifting bridge --- it was a mere metal skeleton and
seemed not to have been used for many years --- and into the lock
which, at 10' 7", was by far the deepest we'd met on the river.
Carolan was getting disappointed at not being able to operate a lock
by herself, but there was no doubt that John's presence made life
easier: it meant that we didn't have to pull in below the deeper locks
to get the lock crew back on board.

Coming out of Bagenalstown Lock, there was a very strong flow from the
river coming in on the right; over one short stretch we had to apply a
lot of welly. But we were soon out of the race and the river resumed
its tranquil course. On the next stretch the Guide advised us to keep
well in to the left, in the boatstream, as there were rocks in the
rest of the river. We met a Barrowline boat on its way upstream, then
kept to the trackway side under Royal Oak Bridge which, with headroom
of about 9' 6", had caused us to take the bikes off the roof. Then we
rounded a long left-hand bend and went under a pleasant seven-arch
railway viaduct.

After that we came to Fenniscourt Lock (4' 3"), after passing a long
lateral weir. Fenniscourt seems to be the maintenance headquarters for
the Barrow: there was a canal-boat (77M) fitted with a Priestman
crane, a tug (listing) and a Waterways launch, as well as a depot on
the bank --- and Milltown Engineering Works. There was quite a crowd
awaiting our arrival: a Swedish party on two Valley Boats (Arnie
Poole's firm in Graignamanagh) was waiting for us to lock down. John
was there again, helpful as ever.

Below the lock we met one of the wide-beam hire-boats coming upstream;
I think it was one of Arnie's. Then we passed by the base of South
Star Cruisers, where David Lamb has a small marina behind a lifting
bridge, with some new hire-boats which he has built himself to
interesting-looking designs. On then to Slyguff: a short cut leading
to the lock (3' 6") where, by a deserted house, the Swedish party had
had a barbecue the night before. We got there before John, so we let
ourselves through the lock and relaxed in the sun to await the arrival
of the Fennells, who were on their way upstream. Goldie greatly
enjoyed the freedom of being able to run around.

When the Fennells arrived, we had coffee together; Ian rowed around in
the cut. John O'Neill arrived but declined the offer of coffee; we
said we'd help the Fennells up and operate the next lock downstream
ourselves, allowing him to look after the boats going upstream: there
were likely to be about six of them, but only our own boat going
downstream.

Just as the Fennells got ready to enter the lock, Bri Chualann, a
privately-owned steel boat arrived. Its owner, who has a sailing-boat
on the sea as well, showed us his hand-held GPS system, which he was
able to use to work out the speed of the current. The two boats went
up through the lock together and we headed downstream, past a friendly
angler in an open boat, to Upper Ballyellen, the last lock on our
trip. We passed sseveral very nice houses on the right bank, all of
them enjoying good views of the river, before entering the long cut.
Two anglers in an open boat were having their sandwiches but, alas,
hadn't any to spare for us. Then we passed the Ballyellen limeworks,
and the sad sight of a sunken wooden cruiser, before entering the
lock.

This was the nastiest lock we met, for several reasons. First, the
paint on the lock was peeling; we hadn't seen that at any other lock
and we blamed the lime for it. Second, the lock was quite deep (8'
1"), which meant that the lock crew (Carolan and I) could not jump
back on to the boat; we would have to run around to the elegant new
stone landing-stage below the lock. That was not a problem in itself
but, third, there was a strong flow sweeping in from the right. And,
fourth, on leaving the landing-stage the boat would have to pull out
quite sharply to the right, into the flow, to avoid some rocks (all
above the water-level and easy to see, but rocks nonetheless) guarding
the outflow from a mill tail-race. Fifth, we couldn't pull out too
far, because the river is shallow out of the boatstream. Sixth, the
right-hand beams on both gates stuck out over the edge of the island:
if you rested your bottom on the end of the beam and walked backwards,
you'd find yourself falling twelve feet into the river. The whole
thing required a lot of care, but we survived it. As with many things,
once we knew what to expect, we could prepare for it. And here I
should say that the Guide, Arthur Kepple and the lock-keepers all gave
us lots of useful information: the Barrow folk do look after their
visitors. They even provided sunshine most of the time.

Below the lock we were into a strong current and shallow water down to
Goresbridge. We passed, as advised, under the second arch from the
east side, went south around a small island and swung up alongside the
new stone quay. There were only a few open boats and two cruisers
there, so there was plenty of space. We quickly unloaded the boat. I
rang Arthur for advice about what to do with our dinghy: if we could
leave it in Goresbridge, we wouldn't have to drive to Vicarstown to
get my car (the only one with a roofrack) and drive back down again to
load the dinghy before heading for home. Arthur advised me to ring
John Fenlon; John drove in with a trailer, loaded the dinghy and took
it off to his barn, where he will look after it until we need it
again. All part of the service on the Barrow.

The dinghy taken care of, we were able to cram everything else into
Anne's car; we set off to Vicarstown to retrieve my car. A journey
that had taken us three days by boat (admittedly not travelling for
very long each day) took only an hour by car. Outside Carlow, we
stopped for a late lunch at the Dolmen Hotel, where we were most
impressed by the range of bar food available in mid-afternoon --- and
by the helpfulness of the staff, who were happy to bring our food out
to us in the garden, allowing us to let Goldie out of the car.

Even better was the fact that the bar offered the three beers of the
Carlow Brewing Company, another micro-brewery. I had a glass (half
pint) of Curim, a wheat beer, and another of Molings, a red beer, as
well as a taste of O'Hara's, a stout. I drank the Curim too quickly to
savour it properly, but I found the Molings very ppleasant, with
fruity flavours. St Moling founded the monastic settlement at St
Mullins, the sea-lock where the Barrow joins the estuary, so waterways
enthusiasts can drink the beer to commemorate him. O'Haras was a very
pleasant stout, with (in my opinion) far more flavour to it than
Guinness now has. All three beers were on draught, not in bottles;
I'll be looking out for them elsewhere.

Then we did some shopping in the Superquinn supermarket in Carlow ---
and there I found bottles of three more beers, this time from the
Dublin Beer Company Ltd: again, a stout (D'Arcy's), a red beer (1798
Revolution) and a wheat beer; there is a fourth in their range but
Superquinn didn't have it. So over a single weekend I had eight
different beers from four different micro-breweries, all of them made
without artificial additives or preservatives.

Our boat is now nine miles from Graignamanagh, which we propose to
make our base for the summer, and thirteen miles from St Mullins.
We've had no problems with weeds, although I gather they may be a
problem later in the season, at least in the cuts --- and until the
Waterways people clear them. We found the currents to be strong but
manageable; the advice of the Guide, the Barrow folk and the keepers
allowed us to prepare for the difficult areas. Everybody we've met has
been extremely helpful, with most of the keepers shepherding their
charges up and down the river and making sure they are OK. The scenery
is beautiful. There are lots of villages with pubs and, in some cases,
restaurants. There are no shower and toilet blocks, so you have to be
self-contained in that respect. Diesel is available in at least two
places, which is more than you could say a couple of years ago. The
fishing seems to be good --- and there are interesting beers
available, at least in some places.

But the overriding impression is that this river is woefully
underused. Over 34 miles, on a very fine bank-holiday weekend with
little rain, we met only about half a dozen private boats on the move
--- including the open boats --- and about the same number of hire
boats. There is room for lots more --- and there is lots to see and
do.

bjg