Cork by kayak
Why splash around in the sea when you can paddle on a kayak into the centre of Ireland’s second city?
Guyan Mitra
"If Cork were a book, the River Lee would be the pages it’s written on,” slurs a stout-clutching, loose-tongued local as I barge through a crowd of Friday-night pub-goers towards the river pontoon. Isn’t it amazing how the Irish manage to achieve eloquence even in the most extreme stages of inebriation?
“True, to know the river is to know Cork, and us locals are fiercely proud of it. It’s the centre stage for all our culture, tales and folklore,” affirms my guide, Jim Kennedy, as we set off in our kayaks onto the velvety midwinter waters that run through Cork’s boisterous city centre.
From the water-level cockpit of our kayak — with the golden lights of the austerely illuminated churches misting off the water — the raucous town takes on quite the serene and hallowed air. Night kayaking may seem an odd urban venture, but the lit-up city from the river is a mystical sight. And our trip was more about the tales, patter and local gossip than hardcore sightseeing, which succinctly sums up any trip in this part of the world.
Once into the meditative rhythm of paddling, we are regaled with tales of Jim’s elegant Georgian home town in his singsong Corkonian brogue. “This is how everyone used to get around Cork. Well, not by kayak, but in rowboats and such. Time was, the city was a maze of interconnecting rivers, and men would row from their house to the local for a pint.”
He goes on to explain how Cork, a proud port “built on butter, beer and beef”, was once an ancient city spanning 13 islands of marshland and water. Odes to its riverine history are everywhere, from the raised first-floor street entrances, allowing for doorstep-reaching tides, to the 200-year-old Cork Bonded Warehouse, on Custom House Quay.
We twist around the broader opening of the river — which eventually breathes out onto the largest natural harbour in the world bar Sydney’s — before navigating up the north channel of the river. There’s an element of stealth in skimming up a river at night. As passers-by pay no heed to our presence, it’s easy to imagine an invading Viking or Cromwellian army sneaking up on the jovial city unnoticed before ruthlessly ransacking it.
We pass the Church of St Anne — with an 18th-century tower known as the Four-Faced Liar because each of the four clock faces tells a different time. “Sure, if they were all the same, we wouldn’t need four of them,” I’m told, with a chuckle that betrays this isn’t the gag’s first outing.
Joining in with the laughter, herons and egrets cackle and squawk as they swoop in on the water. Seals and otters are regularly spotted as well, I hear. Some years ago, three orcas spent a couple of weeks feeding off the plentiful supply of mackerel in the town-centre section of the river, much to the enjoyment of the locals.
The story goes that a pod of 20-odd orcas waited at the mouth of the river while a dying grandmother — too weak to feed in the Atlantic — was escorted upriver by her son and grandson to graze on the easily caught river fish. The orcas are now celebrities, etched into contemporary folklore — there was even a famous local song written about them. That’s the thing about Cork — it’s one of the few places still creating and celebrating folklore, and the River Lee is usually the inspiration.
Travel details: there are flights to Cork from 18 UK airports. Airlines include Aer Lingus (0871 718 5000, aerlingus.com), BMI Baby (bmibaby.com) and Ryanair (0871 246 0000, ryanair.com).
Atlantic Sea Kayaking (00 353-2 821058, atlanticseakayaking.com) has a range of trips around Cork. A 2½hr city paddle, starting and ending at the Boardwalk Bar and Grill, on Lapp’s Quay, costs £40pp, a 6hr sea kayak £105pp.
Cafe Paradiso (21 427 7939, cafeparadiso.ie) has doubles from £88, half-board; or try the Clarion (21 422 4900, clarionhotelcorkcity.com; doubles from £75).
For more information, visit www.tourismireland.com.
“True, to know the river is to know Cork, and us locals are fiercely proud of it. It’s the centre stage for all our culture, tales and folklore,” affirms my guide, Jim Kennedy, as we set off in our kayaks onto the velvety midwinter waters that run through Cork’s boisterous city centre.
From the water-level cockpit of our kayak — with the golden lights of the austerely illuminated churches misting off the water — the raucous town takes on quite the serene and hallowed air. Night kayaking may seem an odd urban venture, but the lit-up city from the river is a mystical sight. And our trip was more about the tales, patter and local gossip than hardcore sightseeing, which succinctly sums up any trip in this part of the world.
Once into the meditative rhythm of paddling, we are regaled with tales of Jim’s elegant Georgian home town in his singsong Corkonian brogue. “This is how everyone used to get around Cork. Well, not by kayak, but in rowboats and such. Time was, the city was a maze of interconnecting rivers, and men would row from their house to the local for a pint.”
He goes on to explain how Cork, a proud port “built on butter, beer and beef”, was once an ancient city spanning 13 islands of marshland and water. Odes to its riverine history are everywhere, from the raised first-floor street entrances, allowing for doorstep-reaching tides, to the 200-year-old Cork Bonded Warehouse, on Custom House Quay.
We twist around the broader opening of the river — which eventually breathes out onto the largest natural harbour in the world bar Sydney’s — before navigating up the north channel of the river. There’s an element of stealth in skimming up a river at night. As passers-by pay no heed to our presence, it’s easy to imagine an invading Viking or Cromwellian army sneaking up on the jovial city unnoticed before ruthlessly ransacking it.
We pass the Church of St Anne — with an 18th-century tower known as the Four-Faced Liar because each of the four clock faces tells a different time. “Sure, if they were all the same, we wouldn’t need four of them,” I’m told, with a chuckle that betrays this isn’t the gag’s first outing.
Joining in with the laughter, herons and egrets cackle and squawk as they swoop in on the water. Seals and otters are regularly spotted as well, I hear. Some years ago, three orcas spent a couple of weeks feeding off the plentiful supply of mackerel in the town-centre section of the river, much to the enjoyment of the locals.
The story goes that a pod of 20-odd orcas waited at the mouth of the river while a dying grandmother — too weak to feed in the Atlantic — was escorted upriver by her son and grandson to graze on the easily caught river fish. The orcas are now celebrities, etched into contemporary folklore — there was even a famous local song written about them. That’s the thing about Cork — it’s one of the few places still creating and celebrating folklore, and the River Lee is usually the inspiration.
Travel details: there are flights to Cork from 18 UK airports. Airlines include Aer Lingus (0871 718 5000, aerlingus.com), BMI Baby (bmibaby.com) and Ryanair (0871 246 0000, ryanair.com).
Atlantic Sea Kayaking (00 353-2 821058, atlanticseakayaking.com) has a range of trips around Cork. A 2½hr city paddle, starting and ending at the Boardwalk Bar and Grill, on Lapp’s Quay, costs £40pp, a 6hr sea kayak £105pp.
Cafe Paradiso (21 427 7939, cafeparadiso.ie) has doubles from £88, half-board; or try the Clarion (21 422 4900, clarionhotelcorkcity.com; doubles from £75).
For more information, visit www.tourismireland.com.
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