Marcus Demuth - Excerpts from "Circumnavigation of Ireland by Sea Kayak, June - July 2007"
Excerpt 1: The most time I could get off from work was 60 days, and since past Ireland circumnavigations took somewhere between 36 and 92 days, I set out paddling within a solid framework and with a clear goal: paddle whenever the weather permits, and as long as you physically can, to close the circle. After averaging only 20 miles per day during my last trip along the South and West Coast of Australia, I felt there was very little room for non-paddling days caused by bad weather during the 1,050 mile trip around Ireland, and probably little time for leisurely explorations.
Excerpt 2: Depending whom you ask, Ireland's West Coast has either no currents at all, or only very weak currents, so weak that in some places even local fishermen may spend an afternoon arguing whether the current is going south or north. The West Coast featured a brew of challenges for the kayaker: multiple 20+ mile crossings; long stretches of up to 300 foot high cliffs, often with no possibilities for landings for many miles; and exposure to the westerly swells from the Atlantic Ocean and the cold air masses from Iceland. For 21 days of the 26 days on the West Coast of Ireland, Met Eireann, the Irish weather service, broadcast a small craft warning, and for 6 of them a gale warning.
Excerpt 3: Temperatures dropped dramatically, the rain did not seem to end, and the wind seemed to always blow from the direction I wanted to paddle in. Met Eireann told of ground frost and hail storms in parts of the country, and locals wore ear mufflers, gloves, and down jackets. Both the weather and the weather forecast became unpredictable, turning longer crossings into a gamble with the elements – a gamble I thought I would lose on 2 occasions when the weather deteriorated too fast to reach the safety of the shore. My 2 paddles in high winds and seas somehow left a permanent mark on my psyche, and put me on a permanent unease with longer crossings until today. I felt lucky that I was able to "muscle" my way out of these 2 gales, but I am still not willing to accept the reasoning why my chosen hobby – sea kayaking – would put me in such a precarious situation. During and after paddling out of my personal maritime mayhem, I felt a huge anger towards my hobby, which for the first time was appearing to be dangerous. In addition, I developed an anger towards all sorts of things: The weather, the again incorrect weather forecast, the forecasters who read the incorrect forecasts to me on the radio, and most of all, a huge anger towards myself. This is what I thought about while trying desperately to reach the shore in an off shore wind blowing Force 8. Combined with the exhaustion of paddling for 2 long hours as hard as I possibly could towards shore in these most challenging conditions, a feeling of desperation, total fatigue, and pure scorn had set in when I finally reached the shore close to Raghly in Sligo Bay. After having paddled for the past 20 days in strong winds, having lived in a now moldy tent, and eaten and slept in mostly driving cold rain, I declared (after having made the identical declarations the previous 4 days) this moment as the new and updated "new all-time low" of the trip. I was unable to find the reason why I exposed myself to the uncertainties of 20+ miles crossings and paddling around exposed headlands or around entire countries at a time and place where small craft warnings are rather the norm than the exception? Is it to get a new perspective for my own life and little problems by experiencing these humble feelings? Thankfully every time I declared a "new low" during the trip, something wonderful and uplifting happened shortly after which made me forget my little misery within seconds.
Excerpt 4: On many occasions it was just the sheer beauty of nature, sometimes it was an animal encounter, sometimes a beautiful island, and sometimes all three together, like the island Inishmurray with its monastry from 600 A.D. and its surrounding ring fortification. Being able to wander half a day on Inishmurray was my highlight of the trip, a moment I will cherish forever. More often than being impressed by the things around me, it was an encounter with an unbelievable warm and friendly person I met who lifted my spirits and made me aware I was at the right place at the right time with the just perfect mode of transportation. Whenever I visited little shops, pubs, community centers, post offices, etc. on remote islands, I always felt for a brief moment a certain unease with myself before stepping through whatever door and back into society and civilization. This was due to my dirty, unshaven appearance, underscored by a suspicion that I might also smell a little unpleasant. But no matter where I went, I was always welcomed with a friendly conversation and an original interest in the trip I was doing, the kayak, and the gear I used. All this accompanied more than once with a complimentary warm meal or a cold pint of Guinness. Soon after the first pint, stories of the life on Ireland's Western islands, stories of huge basking sharks, and tragedies from life lost on the sea were flowing as well.
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