The River Nore played a big part in our lives as children in the fifties. The long summer days were spent “up the bank”. There were three swimming areas which were recognised as “safe” at that time. The favourite place for the younger people was known as “Conscience” Island to us all. (This was probably
My tale of the Ahare river in North Co Wexford started as a child when I first connected with the river while on farmhouse holidays in Castletown. The river ran past the farm and as children we loved to explore the dell which ran down to the river and had many fun filled adventures. I
When I was growing up my grandmother often spoke of fairies and goblins and sprites. She loved the piseogs-supersititons. My favourite tale was the one she told about the water sprites who lived in the river Deel. This is what I recall….. The best itme to spot a fairy is dawn or dusk. At these
The gurgling rush of water rustles the air, my heart beats quickly; a river, flowing, bubbling, pours below the shade of whispering trees. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the other children clanging sticks, shouting war cries, running around proclaiming what side they were on. I’d had enough of stick battles now and was drained
That winter the temperature fell to -20oC, and the river froze over. Nobody told me that it had frozen over. I had been more interested in hiking into icy glens and up into the snowdrifts on the hills. It was only after I had experienced the magic of both those places, that I went down
To have been brought up on the banks of a river – for me, the meandering Shannon – was a privilege granted to few only, I didn’t realise it as a child. To be sure, I had a vague notion of the river’s probabilities – a place to paddle, swim, fish in, stroll along its
Ours was a house with a view: the Abbey River, deep, brooding, like the Danes that were alleged to have formed it: Inis Oibtain, King’s Island, The Parish, There is an Isle. Like a bold child, it broke away from its mother – the Shannon – at Corbally, before being reigned in below the Curraghower
It is Sunday and our family are going on a picnic. Preparations begin on Saturday when tarts or buns are baked. My older sisters help my mother make sandwiches with a variety of fillings. Our house is on the Dublin Road in Limerick City and we cross it to reach the by-road that leads to
A conversation with Jean Montgomery. She was a paddler. Not a rower, a paddler! She paddled a kayak. It started with a beginner’s course on the River Liffey. October and icy mists swirled on the water’s surface; airborne eddies, wrapping around trees, appearing, and disappearing. Wobbling in general purpose canoes, the small group drifted down
My late father Michael Butler was the lock-keeper at Upper Tinnahinch Lock, Graiguenamanagh for 52 years. My siblings Kay, Mary, Lar, Jim and I have great memories growing up in the Lock House. My special memory is when my father fished for silver eels at the Lock gate. The eel season began in autumn and
Our ancestors moved in around 1792 and made their way from Dublin to Longford as each lock was built. Sionnach, our family name, and Sionna, his wife, were the first red foxes in the area and by 1817, when the canal was fully operational, they were in every square mile of it. I have my
It’s still dark. 4am. The Liffey flows gently by. Our van moves so smoothly it is along the empty road it almost seems silent as we pull into the car park of the Wrens Nest. Lifting the punt from the roof we make our way through the bushes to the water’s edge. The sky brightens