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Lough Erne part 1
The steep chop we were running into had been manageable but this was now becoming a bit silly and little scary. Each little squall coming across the Lough ahead of us was ripping the tops from the waves and we were getting a battering. In the squalls we kept the head into the wind, and in the gaps in between we eased off to the right - the island we were headed for was very slowly getting closer.
The day had started at the Share Centre on the southern shore of Upper Lough Erne in Northern Ireland. It had been the first big campsite we'd been at in a weeks travelling and in leaving that morning we hoped it'd be the last. In coming through the narrow neck of Craigavon Bridge into the relatively open section of the Upper Lough the previous day we'd thought that the northwesterly headwind was a local aberration - we were absolutely convinced that a summer wind would settle in the southwest. Wrong. So we ended up at Share. Getting in there proved interesting as it sat behind a bay fully exposed to the full fetch of that supposedly temporary breeze, which was now very obviously a steady force 5 or so. A line of floating steel caissons formed a breakwater running out into deep water and there was a field of steep standing waves 1 to 2' high in front of it, and right in front of us. We were low in the water with the load in the canoe and we were a bit damp - but thankfully there was so much kit there was hardly any room for water! Rounding the corner the campsite looked attractive and at that point we were seriously glad of it.
This was the one short part of the trip for mistakes and as we landed at the campsite we did it again. We were weary and a bit shaky after the odd waves and the effort involved in getting through them. And we had a brand spanking new portage trolley. We unloaded the boat, dunked it on top of the trolley, loaded up with the bulk of our gear, and trundled the whole lot up the nice concrete road. It took as a good few minutes to realise that all this hard work wasn't just because we were tired - the supporting bars on the trolley had been set too low and the rubber tyres were rubbing on the underside of the hull. We emptied out our kit and were dismayed to find two perfect ovals of light blue depressed into the hull - the frictional heat of the tyres had removed the vinyl and exposed, and even gone so far as deformed, the ABS immediately underneath. What wallies. We were tired and fed up and the best we could do was set up camp, eat and head for sleep. We binged on burgers, chips, coke and no washing up, and that did the job, but the sleep bit took until midnight to arrive. Some country music is fine but blaring from a nearby dance-floor at full volume its pretty awful. We'd gotten used to more than ten hours sleep a night and we might have packed everything else but we hadn't thought to bring ear plugs. We decided that there were aspects of civilisation we wanted nothing to do with!
So despite the continuing breeze the next morning we set off north. We wanted to thread our way through a group of islands and find our way to the top end of the Lough heading for the River Erne connection to Enniskillen and Lower Lough Erne. We had wandered out to the breakwater to look at the first crossing and it seemed a little choppy but otherwise fine. Loaded up, we headed out to the island a mile or so ahead, but as we went the chop began to build and build and it was very apparent that the wind was piling in and we were crossing a section getting the full fetch of the Lough. We weren't terribly experienced and were trimmed only slightly bow down. We didn't feel at all comfortable about turning across the waves and running back downwind and when we looked off behind and saw the size of the waves now breaking inshore we reckoned it less risky to go ahead and get to that island than go back and risk being swamped or rolled in open water. The fields behind the shore off to the east held no attraction as a possible camp-site but the island held promise. Eventually after a long steady plod we were able to ferry across the wind into an easier sea behind a bar reaching out from the island, and we were there. I think we shared something of the relief shipwrecked sailors must have when they gain dry land! We were weary. We landed on a likely spot on our small refuge and ended up there overnight. It was the best campsite of the trip.
Only about 100m across the island was covered in mature trees with a dense tangle of roots and undergrowth. We were in a pocket of calm in the midst of an increasing gale of wind. The undergrowth was mostly a carpet of wild mint and the smell was astonishing in the clear air. Below the mint there was what appeared to be crunchy rubble until we looked more closely - it was old freshwater clam and oyster shells. We realised that this'd probably been the remnants of many an otter dinner. The island was wild and real good fun to be on, and we had no lack of comforts with us! Far from abating the wind continued to build - by late in the day the trunks of the large trees on the exposed side of the island were swaying impressively.
Getting some fresh water to drink proved interesting. During the crossing from Share I'd resorted to dumping our water supply to improve our trim a little. We'd brought a small Katedyn water filter with us and this is when it proved its worth. The previous ten days had been broiling hot and presumably this part of the Lough had experienced a flat calm. A good algal bloom had gotten going. Even on the more exposed shore the water was pea green so the best we could do was run the stuff through a coarse filter (a clean sock or t-shirt, I can't remember which) before applying the Katedyn. It worked well enough.
We settled in for a comfortable night - at least that was the intention. I like to hear a gale roaring at a safe distance but Linda doesn't! In the morning we packed up the boat, made another brew, and watched for a gap in the weather. The wind was still a steady force 6 gusting up to 7/8 and we reckoned going further north wasn't really on in the short term. But it had turned enough to the west for the island to provide a little shelter out towards the nearest shore. It was late in the morning by the time we'd summoned enough courage to make the crossing. After about 15 minutes paddling the landing was a bit awkward - stern first! - on a shelving
bouldery shore backed immediately by a barbed wire fence (why oh why to people do this evenin such remote places?) - but we didn't really care.
We portaged across a couple of fields and down a lane towards a farm. The farmer had waved at us, we thought a little angrily, whilst Linda had been stirring the porridge earlier in the morning. But when we met him, and he got over the sight of us walking a boat up the road, we understood why. It was his island we'd been on and he'd thought we were squatters. Once he understood we were tourists he was both astonished and became kindness itself. We were invited in for the endless cups of tea and piles of cakes that seem to be the norm for Irish hospitality, with his wife then giving us a lift into the local town to go fetch the car. That night and the next we stayed at a local campsite to wait out the wind. We made a couple of forays out into more sheltered arms of the Lough, each time becoming convinced that if we were looking to actually enjoy the trip north we'd better hang on a bit longer. The wind and rain piled in incessantly. Eventually we packed up and went to visit some friends, drying our kit in their barn. That night, listening to the thundering rain and wind outside, we wondered if we'd be able to finish the trip we'd planned for so long.
Colin and Linda Taylor
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