Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, April 1, 1990 TAG: 9004010240
SECTION: BUSINESS PAGE: BUS-5 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By MICHAEL VERDON
DATELINE: LIMERICK, IRELAND LENGTH: Long
"We look like a cork in a swimming pool," I shouted to my wife.
But the roar of entering water silenced my voice, and we simply stood at opposite ends of the boat, watching the clear water rising against the stone walls. Ten minutes later, I steered the boat out of the lock and docked at the stone quay beside the lock keeper's cottage. Standing in the doorway, the lock keeper called over to us, "Are ye Americans?"
We answered that we were.
"Well, you're both very welcome here," he said, beckoning. "Come in and have a cup of tea."
He sat us down at his kitchen table, and over tea and sandwiches, told us about the wily River Shannon. That cordial welcome began a week-long tour of Ireland's major inland river, and was a fine finish to a European vacation.
Even if you have no experience with boats, the attractions of the Shannon - empty waterways, unpolluted water and a rural landscape, friendly local people and low expenses - make it one of the best vacations in Europe.
The Shannon is a meandering, twisting snake of a river that cuts through the heartland of Ireland. At some points, it widens into loughs six miles across, and at others it narrows into slim passages of 20 feet. It flows from north to south in a sluggish current, dropping only 80 feet over its 120 miles.
Nearly a dozen companies on the Shannon maintain a fleet of 560 boats for rental to visitors. They vary from a 25-foot cruiser for two to a 38-foot cruiser for eight. The prices work out to about $80 per person, which is far cheaper than seeing Ireland by rental car and hotel. Most boats have central heat, cassette decks and televisions, and for an extra charge, fishing gear and sailing dinghies can be hired. Operating from April to October, the companies have banded together to form the Irish Federation of Marine Industries, thus giving the customer the right to use any facility (laundry, telephone, shower) at any base along the river.
We chartered our four-berth boat in mid-May at the southern end of the Shannon in Portunna, not far from Limerick. After a brief lesson in running the cruiser, we were handed the keys and the boat was ours for a week. But the last words of our cruiser instructor had been ominous. "There are very shallow sandbanks in the river, so if you run aground or have engine trouble, run up the distress flag and row ashore to phone us."
He tried a reassuring smile, but it didn't come off. "We haven't lost a boat yet, thanks be to God."
"What about passengers," my wife asked.
"Only the odd one," he said, and hurried off.
With a lump in my throat, my eyes divided between charts and water, I steered the boat out of the harbor and headed into Lough Derg. The largest lake on the Shannon, it measures 25 miles by 9 miles. The Saturday afternoon found the lake buzzing with activity: Yachts from the local marina sailed by us, and tiny fishing boats bobbed near the shoreline.
Hemmed in by the Arra mountains at its southern end, Derg holds dozens of tiny islets, many of which hold some ancient ruin. My own favorite was the ruined castle on Iniscealta Island. Sitting in regal abandon on the rocky shore, it brought on fantasies of glorious chieftains and noble knights, of huge feasts and displays of pageantry. But an empty Coke can near the limestone base quickly brought my mind back to the 20th century.
The day passed without any major incidents, and we sat down to a meal of fried trout in our galley. The boats are well-equipped for both eating and sleeping. The kitchen facilities include a gas cooker, a refrigerator, and an assortment of pots, pans, and plates. The beds are comfortable, with fresh sheets and continental quilts, and they fold out of the way to provide more cabin space. The first night we left the hatch above us open, and were awakened by the sounds of splashing mute swans. A lone cow peered curiously into our window, and when I stuck my head up through the hatch it bolted for the meadow.
The next few days we glided along a rural setting, with no busy highways or soot-spewing factories to mar the scenery. Villages are strung along the river like pearls on a necklace. Often with less than 200 inhabitants, the villages are more or less the same: one main street containing a few food shops, a pharmacy, a church, and of course, five or six small pubs.
That meant, of course, that the selection of food was fairly limited. But we ate well, for each shop has fresh vegetables and beef, and at very inexpensive prices. But what we lacked in food was amply compensated by the overwhelming amount of Guinness we consumed. I became very fond of the national drink, so most of our nights were passed in the local pubs, chatting with the natives and joining in the occasional sing-song.
The week passed by easily, and we found ourselves falling in love with the Shannon, whose banks changed with each northward mile. Past grazing cattle we chugged, past brown bogs full of yellow thorn bushes, past wooded islets, under a narrow bridge with a man on its center _ he waving, then crossing over to watch our cruiser move slowly upriver. Despite the fact that there were over 500 boats for rent, the river remained empty, and it was rare to spot more than six other cruisers in a day. But we certainly appreciated this solitude because it was balanced by meeting people in the pubs during the evening hours.
On our On our final evening in a pub near Portunna, we met another American couple. They hailed from the Great Lakes region and had come to Ireland to fish. And the wife assured me that they were not disappointed. "This has to be the best fishing water in Europe," she said. "Almost anywhere you cast the line, there is a fish waiting. Perch, rudd, bream, trout _ you name it and it is in the river." While she rambled on, my other ear caught the husband enthusiastically discussing the bird life along the river` "Can you imagine, a kingfisher flew right past me. He was a beauty, too."
It was actually with a feeling of sadness that we handed back the keys to the boat and became landlubbers once again. Somehow, during the week, the river had wooed us into a relaxed state of mind.
Time passes slowly on the Shannon, with daily routines and schedules losing their appeal. The only true markers of the day became sunrise and sunseti.
With the less-structured days, the feeling of tranquility became a companion and everyday worries disappeared, no doubt floating away on the fresh, sluggish current.
by CNB