Abroad with the Misfit Mariners

Due to our body clocks having been re-set to Heritage Boat Owners timekeeping we were late at the rendezvous in the middle of Lough Ree, but the binoculars made it possible to make out our target, a pair of barges strapped together, in the distant north. The chase had started earlier when we left the HBA flotilla to their swimming session off King’s island (one dose of Ree temperature water was enough for me) and headed west into the lough proper. The next phase of our adventures in Ireland was about to begin: cruising north with Eric, in his beautiful century old Dutch sailing barge, and Ted, the owner of a wide beam narrowboat style barge.  The Misfits always strap together on the large loughs as Ted’s boat’s open deck and low freeboard make it vulnerable in poor weather. To add to his potential losses and further decreasing his stability, Ted had his motorbike on a board across his rear deck. The added benefit of tying the two boats together was that one person could steer and the other could brew tea. Tea, we were soon to learn, was the essential fuel of these expeditions. Ted and his boat                                                                                 The title, ‘Misfit Mariners’, is Eric’s expression and perfectly describes this pair as, of the few live-aboard boaters in Ireland, only a small percentage move, let alone constantly cruise. And they are not the usual newly retired constant cruisers of England’s canals:  Ted is a biker, with a shaven head and goatee beard and a biker’s T shirt for every occasion. Eric, is an unemployed archaeologist determined, for a number of complex and personal reasons, to live his life as he pleases. Fortunately the pair of them are as daft as brushes and gentle with it. Eric also has his new dog, Øiche (Irish for night), on board. A black  terrier puppy that Eric had saved from being shot when her breeder considered her to soft,  øiche was on her first expedition also. On previous occasions we had always met Ted with his partner Joelle. Sadly, due to commitments elsewhere, Joelle was unable to join us until later in the cruise.  Much of this we did not know when we finally caught up with them on the approach to Lanesborough at the head of the lough. Eric and sailing Tjalk                                  The first night was spent catching up, chatting, drinking tea, eating the meal that Jill had cooked and watching Eric and Ted struggle to the petrol station several hundred yards up the road. In England diesel is available all along the waterways, this is not the case in Ireland and, if you do find a boatyard with a pump, the price can be exorbitant. To get round this cans are carried to and from roadside petrol stations that have a ‘green’ diesel pump. There is a bonus in that more tea can be drunk between arm wrenching walks. The good news is that we had no reason to hang about in the morning and hoped to get away early. Looking back, I now laugh at my naivete as, we were soon to learn,  Eric and early is an oxymoron and when he does rise, make sure that he has had a cup of tea before approaching.  We also soon learnt that to have a plan, is to have no plan. We left late, too late to get through the next lock which was thronging with hire boats, before its closing for lunch. With no jetty space free, we dropped our anchor in a corner of the bay below Tarmonbarry weir and, with the other boats rafted up to us, we sat on the decks for lunch. The only sound was the gentle tumbling of the weir in the distance and Eric’s flute as he grabbed the chance for practice. Our spontaneous decision to drop anchor and stop  in the weir pool was fun, but the three hour wait to get through the lock was not and, judging by his unhappy presence, the lock keeper at Tarmonbarry was having a bad day too. Relief was to come at Roosky, the next lock upstream, as the lock keeper there must roll in fun dust every morning. Nothing fazes Jimmy, as he laughs with, and chats to, all comers.  He remembered us from our previous passages and was so full of talk that boats had to circle while he advised us about moorings and things to do upriver.  Two of the circling boats were Ted and Eric, they had had enough and were looking for moorings. We had no chance of getting in so committed to going up to Dromod, a couple of miles further up the river. Jimmy had doubted that there would space for us so late in the day and, as he predicted,  the new harbour was stuffed. Fortunately the tiny but well sheltered old harbour was empty and we rested up gratefully. With the rest of the boats joining us in the morning, Jill left for family commitments in England that meant that she would be away for a few days. Ted was off to meet, and return with, Joelle.  The Misfit Mariners cruise had stumbled to a pause. Not that Eric and I did not have some fun while they were away. With a large lough just outside the harbour, we rigged his Tjalk for sail and set out to catch the wind.

 

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