S-tony

Roving mooring permits

LET'S face it. This is just another way British Waterways is trying to squeeze a few extra quid out of boaters. Just like the 'continuous cruising premium', or whatever they are calling it this week, and also overstaying fines, it would be unenforceable. There aren't enough employees on the towpath to make it work. Nor would they have the authority to collect money from offenders under the Act. Do they think 'continuous moorers' are going to volunteer their money during a recession?

When the mooring fine notices appeared on the Kennet & Avon a while back, I asked British Waterways how they would collect the fines. I was told they wouldn't expect their employees to be responsible for carrying money on the towpath. Too dangerous. 'So how will you do it when many of the overstayers don't pay for boat licences anyway?' Their blustering reply could have been summed up in the one word: "Um..."

Then an extra five million pound 'drop in the inland ocean' is granted by darling Darling. Add another 20 and we might be getting somewhere. Still, I suppose it'll help pay for directors' bonuses.

Am I cynical? Yup. You bet.

I am still in touch with the undertow of anger that is being felt by boaters en mass, many of whom spent weekends of their own time volunteering to restore our waterways. They are angry about the way our treasury writes off waterway funding as something that must now come out of our own pockets.

They are furious that after all that hard work in cold mud and water our government will not accept that our waterways are a national heritage that must be adequately paid for out of our taxes. They are in rage that as pensioners they are now being forced off our canals by excess boating costs.

This anger is not going to be appeased by ineffective letters to MPs, or drinking tea with the big nobs. It certainly isn't abated by a measly five million quid grant from a government that they perceive to have steadily mishandled our money since they got to power. Sooner or later this anger will break out in very active and visual protest as it did two years ago.

Irish waterways

Nip across the Irish Sea to see how it should be done. After my last column I had a friendly email telling me to shut up about Ireland. We're on to a good thing! Don't share it with others. Whilst I can see where this sentiment comes from, I can't agree with it. There is plenty of room over there for boating expansion, and visiting boaters are made extremely welcome indeed, whether hirers or boat owners. But there can be downsides.

Live-boards are treated as itinerants unless they have a permanent houseboat mooring. Well at least that's honest.

If there is a snag with locks that are fully automated it occurs when they break down, which I must add, happens very rarely. I heard of a couple of hire boat crews who found they were stuck in a lock. The gates wouldn't open to let them out no matter how many buttons were pressed or cards swiped. They called in the staff, who arrived very quickly, only to discover that a hydraulic hose had failed. It needed changing.

However when the engineer turned up with a replacement, he couldn't get the old one out as a brick retaining wall had been built over it. The Irish never hurry about such things, especially when the skipper of the other boat, instead of going for a walk, enjoying the view and having the craik, began to get irate and tried to tell the engineer how to do his job. He was British. Big mistake.

Eventually the boats were liberated, probably some time after they could have been. As here, it doesn't pay to go boating with a temper.

Kesh

The other problem with boating in Eire is the weather. It rains and blows a lot. When it does the flows and waves can become fearsome. Here follows an extract from my diary.

Late September 2008.

Riversdale Hired Dutch Barge Deidre

Crew: Mr & Mrs Drifter and strapping son Tim, and of course, Sophie the water-lurcher.

Occasionally it's not raining

On the chart, to the east of their position in the middle of Lower Lough Erne, a reasonably equipped mooring was shown at the small village of Kesh. Also, the book Mr Drifter had read about the lough praised Kesh, so they made that their destination for the night. What the chart, nor the book’s writer, Dick Warner, warned of, was the very curly river that took them to Kesh. Also, amongst the channel markers leading to its mouth were two notices that looked like they stated ‘No Large Motorboats’. That couldn’t be right, surely? 'No waterski-ing?' offered the crew.

The river became quite narrow. The bends became tighter. Two required double shunts to get around. The mooring jetties they found were rickety to say the least. They began to wonder whether they had made the right decision, but there was nowhere to turn back. Eventually they reached a splendid modern floating jetty just below a peaceful trickling waterfall by the village road bridge. What a great sheltered mooring!

The photographs on this page are by the author.

Problem winding

The only problem was winding. It seemed doubtful that the river was wide enough. They didn’t fancy reversing all the way back to the lough, negotiating all those tight bends with the current pushing them along backwards. There was just one chance. By nudging the stern against a tight corner by a wall in the mooring, and by nosing the bow into a very small entrance to a shallow pool where a couple of rowing boats were tied up, with about ninety-three shunts, they made the turn. Gratefully they reversed back and moored up below the trickling waterfall. It was an early night for all.

Lulled by the gentle sounds of the waterfall, and the village yobos sounding their car horns late at night in the nearby car park, they slept well, despite continuous lashing rain and heavy gusts that rocked the boat.

Raging torrent

Mr Drifter was the first to look out in the morning. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The river had turned itself into a raging torrent. The waterfall had completely disappeared beneath a tumbling maelstrom of white water, and the rapids were piling half way up the stout pillars of the road bridge. The boat strained on its mooring as the current tried to sweep it away from the pontoon.

Welcome to Kesh

Tim’s ropework held well, but an inherited loop in the rear line looked dodgy. Mr Drifter doubled it up. There was no pulling the boat closer to the jetty. The current was far too strong. A wall of foam built up as high as the window twixt the hull and the jetty. Floating tree boughs jammed against their rudder. Obviously it would be foolish to try to move. They were stuck there until the water subsided.

During the day a team of river workers turned up in a skiff with a powerful outboard engine which only just made headway against the heavy flow. If the Drifter crew didn’t get away that day, they might not for quite a while, as the following day’s weather promised to be worse, they were advised. On asking how the lough was behaving, one of the workers stated that it was well over his head. What did that mean? Either he didn’t know at all, or the waves were huge. He was no midget. Mr Drifter watched them depart in their skiff, being spun down the river by the current and the wind before they gained any kind of control.

Elected to stay

He decided that they should err on the side of safety. They were safe where they were, so they elected to stay there until morning. If it was still bad then they would phone the hire company at Ballinamore for advice. They were sure that the boat’s owners would appreciate them not taking any risks, even if the boat was not returned on time.

Safer on the mooring

Sophie woke them at 7.30am, wanting to leave her early morning deposit at Kesh. Fortunately the raging torrent had subsided somewhat. After a stout fried breakfast to fortify themselves, they carefully let go the jetty. It was a hairy run down the river, with the current pushing them along. Again, twice they had to reverse when corners could not be made in one sweep. This was achieved by using high revs in clouds of exhaust smoke, fighting the strong current that tried to thrust them into the banks.

Raging lough

Once out of the river and through the markers, they faced the raging lough. It wasn’t too bad while they stayed into wind. The bow lifted buoyantly and thudded down into the wave troughs. The boat rode well until they had to turn to the left and took the waves side on. The barge rolled wildly. Crashes and bangs were heard below as items were swept off the draining board. Fortunately all the alcohol had been lowered to deck level already, except for the skipper’s cup of Irish coffee that took off across the steering position on its flying saucer and crash landed on the deck. What a waste!

They turned out of the wind towards shelter. The boat corkscrewed its way down the lough. Not an unpleasant motion, but with the wind and rain behind them, and the front window lowered because the windscreen wiper wouldn’t work any more, it meant that the spray stopped hitting them in the face and the steerers did not get so drenched. Mrs Drifter passed up nourishment, both liquid and solid. Sophie cowered on the deck at their feet. She definitely did not like this weather, and said so quite plainly.

They eventually reached the calmer waters of the Erne at Enniskillen. Their only urgency then was to find a pump-out station to empty their WC holding tank, which was full to overflowing after their scary adventure.

Why, oh why, could we not have the same positive attitude from our government towards our waterway heritage here? Look and learn, MPs.

Canaldrifter