Man Up And Paddle!

Cathal McCosker

Description

Cathal McCosker, and his friend Leon Harris, circumnavigated 1200 miles of Ireland's wild coastline in 67 days by sea kayak. On route, he survived 40-foot waves, dangerous tides that could have dragged him out to sea, and jellyfish stings that left him in much pain. They made it into the Guinness Book of Records in the process.

Informations

• Publié par: Powerhouse Publishing
• Date de parution: 03 avril 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783010790
• Langue: English

Extrait

Man Up And Paddle!
A Wild And Dangerous Circumnavigation Around Ireland
Cathal McCosker
"A bold journey that stretched this duo to the physical limits - but they gained so much more in return..."
– Bear Grylls
"This is a must-read book. It’s funny, it's true and it will make you laugh!"
– Martin Clunes
"Dangerous - a must read."
– Rory Bremner
"A pipedream that became reality after 67 days of blood, sweat and a few scrapes, around the hospitable Emerald Isle – earned a place in the Guinness Book of Records. "
– HELLO! Magazine
"It was the beauty of the Irish coast that grabbed them, its wildlife, and the thought of soda bread, so good after a salty day on the summer seas."
– The Daily Telegraph
"An excellent introduction to Ireland and captures the spirit of the country well. One gets a good sense of the constantly changing weather sweeping over varied landscapes and of an unspoilt land rich in nature. What comes across strongly however, is the warmth of the people and their ready acceptance of two disreputable looking canoeists."
– Edward Barrington, Irish Ambassador to London
This book is dedicated to Charlie, Henry and Kitty. Make life an adventure and never, ever give up!
CONTENTS
FOREWORD - Marcus Armytage, Racing Correspondent, Daily Telegraph
INTRODUCTION - Helicopters and R.N.L.I.
CHAPTER I - Virgin Paddlers.
CHAPTER II - Wild Men Appear.
CHAPTER III - Back To The 60s With Donovan Catching The Wind.
CHAPTER IV - Fear And Frustration. The Last Knight Of Glin Castle.
CHAPTER V - Breathtaking Connemara, Mad Cows And Rain.
PHOTOGRAPHS
CHAPTER VI - Donegal, Half-Way And The Garda Are Called. Stolen Kayaks!
CHAPTER VII - Time Is Running Out, Dear Head Master. Nights Are Closing In And It’s Cold.
CHAPTER VIII - Moustaches, Northern Ireland, Complacency, Itchy Bottoms and Rutland Sound.
CHAPTER IX - Back in The Republic. Feeling Knackered. Jellyfish and Diarrhoea.
CHAPTER X - Flatulence, Rosslare.
TO BE BACK
AFTERSHOCKS
SIX WEEKS AFTER
AROUND FOUR MONTHS LATER
APPENDICES
1. Big Hugs & Thanks.
2. Kit We Used.
3. Grub We Ate.
4. Dear Doctor.
5. Bodies On The Line.
6. Navigation.
7. Photography.
8. Expedition Trivia.
9. The Beaufort Wind Scale.
10. Press Cuttings and Guinness Book of Records Certificate
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
FOREWORD
Thankfully I first met Cathal McCosker after he had undertaken this expedition, far too late for him to ask me to join him. Though I have a seafarer’s pedigree – my grandfather was an admiral and an uncle, on behalf of the British Navy, beat up Icelandic fishing boats during the Cod War - I was violently seasick just looking at the cover photo for this book. I will just stick to horses.
This is the sort of thing people do as a mid-life crisis, and in that respect Cathal was old before his time. He was still a mere stripling when he undertook this journey but he managed to think up this unique challenge, way out of his comfort zone, to test mind and body and what an adventure it proved to be.
The expedition took two and a half months, was unscripted and unsupported, and they did not even carry a mobile phone which is just as well knowing how well most of them react when introduced to water.
It was a puritanical and brave approach around the coast on which even the mighty Spanish Armada floundered. Its unpredictability makes it a fascinating story; no two days were ever the same, with the ever-changing seas and weather and the next stop westwards, America. That, in my book, is tightrope walking over the Niagara Falls without a safety net.
To be in small kayaks in 40-foot sea swells off the West Coast of Ireland is on its own an extraordinary adventure. When they set foot on land, the vast majority of the coastal inhabitants of Ireland looked after these two adventurers as they would their own family. The warmth, generosity and humour of the Irish, of which he is one, comes across over and over again in stark contrast to the welcome they received when they were chased by mad cows in Connemara.
This is an inspirational book about two guys who just got up and went for it. Leon and Cathal travelled in sea kayaks carrying all their equipment. These one-man boats are designed to travel at sea, they have waterproof hatches to store food, clothes, and equipment. Their shape with turned up ends allows swift travel through water, averaging 3/4 miles an hour. They cooked mainly porridge on a small stove, camping most nights around the coast. It is pure escapism, a journey around one of the roughest and most beautiful coastlines in the world. On the way they became feral, were robbed, suffered illness, were stung by jellyfish, jammed with Donovan & The Clancys, were washed out to sea and stayed with many, many generous hosts including the last Knight of Glin in a Castle. One of the joys of this trip is that these two guys carry very little in the way of possessions but are rich in spirit. This is a must-read book. It is funny, it happened, it makes you laugh out load and cheers the spirit. They even made it into the Guinness Book of Records and Cathal was invited to give a lecture to the Royal Geographical Society in London. Those two facts alone qualify their wonderful trip as a serious undertaking.
By Marcus Armytage - Racing Correspondent, Daily Telegraph
INTRODUCTION
Helicopters and R.N.L.I.
"I’m so cold," Jim said, his head bent over my canoe, teeth chattering. Then he spewed, white and brown liquid forced from his mouth again and again. "Jim, are you okay to paddle?" I said. He was shivering more now, his eyes looked dull and distant. I reached for his boat to steady him.
"What’s happening Cal, why aren’t we getting anywhere? We’ve been paddling towards land for ages, it’s still miles away," he spoke, looking for reassurance. I could give him none, for I knew as little.
One of the instructors was way in front, with some of our party. Delaney, the other, was about 500 to 600 metres behind and wouldn’t speak. I was feeling bloody cold, I’d stopped shivering now. I knew this meant I was becoming even colder, one’s body shivers in a final attempt to warm up, then after a while it gives up and stops. I’d capsized earlier, into the freezing cold water (off the Stacks, on the Anglesey coastline). At first I couldn’t breathe, just coughed and spluttered with icy shock. I was wearing two t-shirts, a plastic windproof and shorts. Foster and Delaney had said: "You’ll be fine, we’re only going out for a short sea trip." That was nearly nine hours ago. We were now, all eighteen of us, out at sea losing sight of each other and the Anglesey coastline. There were only three in our group who’d been in a canoe before. What were we doing at sea? Why not a calm pond or something?
From the initial sunshine of a summer’s day and safety of a calm bay, we were now in pouring rain and being washed out in an ever-increasingly rough sea. I would rise on a wave’s crest and Jim disappeared in its trough. All I could think of was: am I going to die out here?
"Why don’t they put a flare up; how bad does it have to get? I mean Jane’s over there out of her boat. What the fuck is going on?" Jim shouted, frustrated and scared, only just able to paddle now his arms were beginning to seize up.
I didn’t answer, I was praying. I don’t know why. I’m not really a believer, but I was so shit scared that I was willing to try anything. I have to say it gave me some comfort and something to think about rather than the cold and fear I was feeling.
"Jim, Jim!" I shouted. "Look up… up!" I could see a yellow helicopter overhead.
"Is it for us? Do you think it’s for us?" Jim shouted.
"I don’t know, how did they know we were here?" I questioned. I didn’t quite believe our situation was serious enough to warrant this kind of attention. This sort of thing happened to other people on the nine o’clock news, not us.
Before I knew it, Jim and I were on a winch, being drawn up into the helicopter. Jim was still vomiting, but nothing was coming out. The noise of this thing was incredible muting any conversation. Hand signal communication with the pilots was all we could manage, but we were safe, all 18 of us. Some were on the threshold of losing consciousness and their life. Most, however, bounced back after a warm hospital bed and plenty of hot tea and toast. A few were kept in for a couple of days. Everyone was worried about Jane; she just sat staring into space. "She’s in shock," they said. "She’ll be okay."
It was two years later when Leon and I met, while I was working on a summer vacation, as an Outdoor Instructor. I was a twenty-year-old student, at the time training to become a teacher (Physical Education and Biology), very carefree and at the age when you never listen to advice! Ending up, more often than not, wishing you had. Leon was a rather reserved trainee instructor, who had just discovered the magical effects of beer and women. A cocktail he was still perfecting! By the end of that summer season we were impossible dreamers. Always putting bizarre challenges and ideas together.
This trip all began, as most things of this nature invariably do, in a pub over a pint or two. Both of us were keen to go on an expedition that was a challenging adventure. We had often talked of paddling around Ireland, but had not felt ready for the rough and bleak seas we were likely to encounter on such a voyage. Fortified with Murphy’s by the time we left the pub we’d decided to attempt it, both agreeing the underlying foundation to this adventure lay in having an open-minded approach all the way round. Getting involved, meeting locals, seeing Ireland’s history, culture and music. The trip was to involve all this and the vehicle we would travel in, would be the sea canoe. I’m not sure if, at this stage, we were both egging each other on, waiting for the more sensible one to say "Okay, a joke’s a joke."
It was not until nearly five years later - at this stage Leon was