Leon Ó Cathasaigh and a group of fellow nautical novices venture forth or a week on the majestic Shannon.

“What about a four-day cruise on the Shannon?”. The group text was an immediate hit with ‘Us Lot’ as we called ourselves. ‘Yes Please!’ We all agreed this would be the ideal post-lockdown breakout trip for our gang. No better way to reinstate a spirit of adventure than to try something new. In the weeks that followed we booked the boat, planned our itinerary and engaged in the kind of pre-trip banter you’d expect from a group of complete novices. 

We were giddy with excitement by the time we arrived in Portumna to collect the boat. There were six of us, three couples and we opted for an eight-berth cruiser so there’d be plenty of space. Like the rest of the country, we were keen for the company of friends and the opportunity to see parts of our country in a new way. 

The best way to see the Shannon is to be on the Shannon; and for me at least, a cruise on the mighty river was always high on my wish list of experiences. The Shannon is the largest, longest and most important river in Ireland. It is often described as Ireland’s forgotten province as much of the river is hidden from major roads and surrounded by lakes, callows and inaccessible floodplains.

Before the boat was handed over, we were required to watch safety videos and literally ‘learn the ropes’ from our very patient instructor. He demonstrated how to read the navigation charts, steer the boat and tie up on shore. There was more to this than we first suspected but we were up for the challenge and keen to get out on our own. Finally, he let us away as we self-proclaimed to ‘have the gist of how to control the boat’. ‘Right so, take it easy then’ he said gingerly. We pushed off and carefully manoeuvred the cruiser through the narrow canal that leads to the open river. Once past the harbour we set the power to full and headed upstream.

Our first few hours on the waterway were wonderful; the boat pushed along by the gentle purr of the engine and the broad river opened before us with a moving panorama of low fields, rushes, trees and wetland wildlife. The sunlight glistened on the water as we sat on the deck and our minds quietened to the spell of the river. The Shannon is mystical as well as magnificent and its spirit envelops those who journey within.

The small harbour at Banagher provided an easy berth as we tied up with the fading light. There’s no finer way to dine than in the company of good friends on the top deck of a Shannon boat. Later, we settled back to be entertained by the ceaseless chattering of busy ducks. In the end, everything goes quiet, we fall asleep and dream.

The next day our plan was to sail up to the monastic settlements at Clonmacnoise. It is easy to see how the river was an important source of navigation in ancient times. Up until the 1700s, most of the country was covered in forests and the best way to journey was by boat. Many settlements grew up on the banks of the river and along its shores and islands. 

As we cruised upstream we were conscious of the chieftains, monks, traders and Vikings who took this same journey long ago. At times, when the trees closed in and the river meandered among the callows, there was little to suggest modern life. 

Clonmacnoise is located at a broad bend in the river. Its strategic position makes sense when you approach it from water. The Vikings plundered Irish monasteries by sailing upriver; clear views from a low hill were a good defence. 

Ours was a much calmer invasion, and we made our way up the hill to amble among the crosses, chapels and ruins. Looking out at the river below, the western lands stretching to the horizon, we shared the sense of wonder that attracted people to this sacred place long ago. With our visit complete, we turned downstream to make our way to Shannonbridge for the night. 

Life on the boat was enjoyable in unexpected ways. The six of us are old friends and well used to each other’s company. All the same, we were wary of the difference between having occasional meals together and spending several days cooped up on a cruiser. They call it cabin fever for a reason! Thankfully, our experience was the complete opposite.  Managing the boat required cooperation and teamwork and everyone played their part. We took turns at steering, navigating and preparing meals. There was also plenty of time for lounging on the deck, reading books or just watching the river banks and enjoying the scenery. 

Tying up on shore was a major drama. It’s not just that this is the trickiest steering task but that the whole spectacle is overseen by other boaters. Our status as utter novices seemed clear to everyone and in fairness, we received nothing but help and support. Still, it was always a relief to be safely squeezed among the other cruisers and docked for the night. 

Evenings on the marina were sociable affairs. Fellow boat people are invariably friendly. There were many ‘old timers’ who own their boats and have years of experience cruising the Shannon. And interlopers like Us Lot who needed to be shown how to tie a knot and where to connect the electric cable. It was all good fun. 

About one-fifth of the entire landmass of Ireland drains into the Shannon. With each rainy winter, the great river extends its banks and many fields flood for several months. This seasonal uncertainty keeps houses and roads well away from the shore and creates a wonderful wilderness that is quite literally ‘away from it all’. In summer, cattle, horses and donkeys graze along the shore but there are few structures.   

On the third day, the flow of the river took us southwards past Portumna Bridge, which opens like a gate, and on into the expanse of Lough Derg. The lake provided new sensations. Wide views and distant shores. Gulls foraging in from the sea and shallow beds of rushes protected by navigation markers. We kept away, heeding the old timer’s advice to stick to the middle of the lake. 

The quaint village of Terryglass derives its name from the Irish language meaning ‘land of the two streams’. Its small harbour teamed with other cruisers, and fellow boaters once again offered shore-side advice as our ‘captain’ slowly manoeuvred us to a narrow berth. We were true river folk now and felt at ease as we chatted away with our nautical neighbours and exchanged stories of river escapades. 

People have been cruising here for years and they still report new delights each season. We had travelled along only a small portion of the river and were blessed with calm weather and fine conditions for cruising. Sometimes that’s the way it is but on other days it rains, the wind blows and the water turns dark and choppy. These changing aspects of the river’s landscape make every cruise an adventure. There is so much more to be explored.

There was one final leg the following morning. We had to take the boat back to Portumna. As we set off shortly after sunrise, the river worked its magic once more. This time we were enveloped in fog. It was just possible to see the closest navigation buoys; nothing beyond that. We cruised cautiously into the mist, real sailors now. Like Jason and the Argonauts, we were adventurers, travelling across the timeless waters. Later, as the sun’s heat burned away the mist, the wide majestic Shannon showed itself once more and we sailed safely back to base entirely fulfilled and enriched by our river experience. ‘Us lot will do this again’ we agreed.