Naas rally over, we headed west for Lowtown where a narrowboat awaited a stern canopy. It was a relief to be back working on something familiar as it seemed the only jobs we were getting in Ireland prior to this fell into the category we normally call ‘awkward’.  Lowtown is an interesting spot hydraulically as the water supply from numerous springs in Milltown bog seven miles distant, can be sent West to the Shannon, East to Dublin or South West down the Barrow line and the River Barrow and onto Waterford. The Lowtown lock keeper, Jimmy, lets the water downhill in whichever direction demanded by losses or lock passages. If sent East one thing is certain: it is going to Dublin: either through the canal or, by far the fastest route, by being dumped into the Liffey by another lock keeper, Martin, at Sallins aqueduct. The last few weeks have made it unlikely that any water will be called for  in the South or West for many months as the rivers, Barrow and Shannon, are more than high enough for the present and near future.


November has seen the most dramatic floods in living memory and we are relieved we did not stay out on the Shannon system as contemplated earlier in the year. Every town along the river is suffering and water levels on the two great lakes, Ree and Derg, are so high that relief will be a long time coming. Indeed, the sounds of the Autumn up and down the river has been grinding, welding and hammering as support stanchions for floating moorings are extended; without extensions there was a danger of jetties full of boats lifting clear and drifting free.  Reflecting concerns over water levels are the numerous forum posts on the Irish boating sites as concerned owners post photographs and check reports. The problem is further extended by the reservoirs that supply the Shannon being so full water is having to be released to maintain their structural integrity. With the river already flooding every town from Leitrim to Limerick, many hundreds of thousands of people are having a hard time of it. At times like this the canal, with its 3” rise in the last week, truly feels like sanctuary but even here there are some strange problems:  when we brought Eric’s boat up from Hazelhatch a couple of weeks ago, the canal was really low due to maintenance work and we slowly scraped along one three mile pound (stretch if you’re Irish) only to find the next, fortunately very short pound, was so low that both sets of lock gates could be opened simultaneously.  Only Eric could be so contrary as to want more water when two thirds of the country is flooded!

 

 

With the whole country inundated, Eric stares at an empty stretch!

 

A month of near solid rain means we have been able to do other things than work which, for us, means Jill paints and I read.  It turned out that the owner of the narrowboat we were working on in Lowtown is an author and we were pleased to be given a copy of his book, ‘In the Wake of Giants’. An entertaining and enthusiastic read, Gerald reflects on a lifetime spent walking by, and then boating on, the Grand and Royal Canals, and the River Barrow. His interest in engineering and the engineers who built these waterways is one narrative thread but it is far more than a historical tome as he weaves learning to boat, the Midland’s landscape, numerous funny tales  and more reflective musings into, what is for me, a fine read. Anyone fancying a copy can find it here .  

A major change following our ceasing to travel constantly on the boat, was adding ourselves to Ted’s car insurance - we now have wheels (when Ted does not need them) which means we are able to get to places more than a few hours walk from the boat. With Ted away in England to catch up with Joelle who sadly, due to work commitments, has been gone since mid October,  we took the car into the Wicklow Mountains. Eric tells us that this region is known as the Garden of Ireland (very different to Kent, England’s Garden county but then, as I commented in earlier blogs,  the Irish have a different approach to gardening than the English)  and we were more than happy to enjoy some serious elevation for the first time since leaving the North in September. The highest peak, Lugnaquilla, rises to over 3000 ft but, with the weather suitably autumnal, we were content to remain in the valleys and headed for Glendalough, the site of yet another monastery. Our arrival at the visitor centre car park coincided with that of a bus load of school children and, not wanting to linger over yet more monastic ruins, we headed up the tarmac path that led to the higher lake. This is a glorious spot and it was no surprise that the paths near the car parks were busy but, as with these sort of spots the world over, a short walk and we were clear of humanity. With a mountain rising near vertically on the southern shore, a long cataract tumbling into the lake from the mountains in the west and Peregrine falcons hunting overhead, it was difficult to think that the hustle and bustle of Dublin was little more than thirty miles away. The area remains as silent as it would have been in the 7th Century when Kevin, later St Kevin, settled here - the major difference being the destruction of the deciduous forests that would have covered the slopes. With water, fish, wood and a fertile valley downstream of the monastery, it is no surprise that this spot was chosen for meditation and reflection. It retains many of these qualities and is on our list of ‘must do’ recommendations for anyone visiting Ireland.

 

 

The view from the head of the Upper Lough, Glendalough, County Wicklow.