Sunday September 1rst
Stowaway carrier pigeon…
About fifty miles separate us from Arklow, our second Irish stopover.
We leave at 9:00 a.m., to reach our destination after 9:30 hours of engine power, under an overcast sky.
As the head of the Kilmore harbor master’s office points out to us with amusement, we will be traveling against the current. Since there is no wind, we use the engine without restraint, which suits us because we have to use up the remaining diesel in the portside leaking tank.
This stage is however enhanced by the arrival of a new passenger, a carrier pigeon who decides to enjoy the trip, for free and without effort. He settles docilely on board, remains indifferent to the crumbs and seeds we offer , but appreciates the bowl of fresh water that we provide him.
Seamanship lesson
The gloomy weather and the motor navigation are conducive to a lesson in seamanship.
Eric takes advantage of it to redo a regular splice in place of my approximate repair. The professor is at work, the assistants obey…
Even the pigeon is attentive
Eric proved to be a fervent specialist in seamanship. Several times during the voyage, he will frown and launch into restoring to higher standards some halyards that were too short or displayed rather anarchic splices.
You have to “massage” the splices well!
And very quickly, he will be given the nickname “Monsieur Bout” (Mr. Rope), for his evident passion for the rope thing!
As for our surprise passenger…
Where does he come from, where is he going to, and are we transporting him in the right direction? He is ringed on both legs, but we cannot get close enough to get any information.
He will spend the night in Arklow, on the boat, but will fly away in the morning for other trips. Or perhaps, tired of his nomadic life, he has decided to settle down in the area to start a family. We will never know either.
Paradox in Arklow
Arklow is an interesting and pleasant stopover on the River Avoca, near the town centre, with a long visitors’ pontoon sheltered under the trees, as evidenced in the morning by the leaves scattered on the deck of the boat.
At 6:30pm, the marina manager, a certain Niall, a character as colorful as he is helpful, is no longer there to greet us but kindly tells us by text message the location of the toilets and, just as importantly, the pubs.
We have our daily Fish and Chips in one of them on the other side of the river, accompanied by the appropriate Guinness (except for me, still as resistant to this tarry-soapy liquid (cf. https://leblanc.pl/china_blue_en/index.php/the-whole-story/chapter-3-the-rocky-road-to-dublin/).
Our first Irish Coffees at the pub in Arklow
An Irishman who has largely honored the local drink, even tries to give us his own interpretation of our national anthem.
We end the evening by walking around town, and begin to soak up this Irish atmosphere that we are going to appreciate so much.
We are definitely in Gaelic country!
The problem of the diesel leak is described in the “The Troubles” section, but to cut a long story short, we need to buy extra jerry cans to empty the portside leaking tank.
Niall, whom we meet the next morning, puts himself at my service and doesn’t hesitate to show me around all the DIY stores in town, in his Porsche Cayenne whose horsepower he doesn’t spare.