Boyne Currach Heritage Group
Boyne Currach Heritage Group
​Seeking answers to Ireland's
​Ancient Maritime Questions
  • Home
  • About us
    • Boyne Currach Centre
    • Boyne Currach Heritage Group
  • Become a Friend
    • Currach Carvings >
      • Bádóirí - Currach Folk Collection
    • Boyne Currach Book
    • T-Shirts
  • Projects
    • Bovinda's Sea Trials, Laytown 2014
    • Boann Project
    • Newgrange Currach Project
  • Cultural Tours
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Membership Form

Leanann an Obair ar aghaidh.....

21/2/2016

0 Comments

 
​Last weekend was busy with saws and rulers, chisels and planes. Not one of the knees on the currach is made the same and achieving only a 5 inch rise on the bow is itself a challenge. All the lats and ribs are being cut this weekend.
Bhi deireadh sechtain gnothach againn le rialoiri, siseil agus plana. Ni raibh aon ceann de na gluine den currach deanta mar an gceanna. Agus ni bhfuaireamar ach ardu de 5 urlach ag ceann an bhaid. Taimid ag gearradh na slatai agus na heasnacha an deireadh seachtain seo.
0 Comments

Grow Your Own Currach......

21/2/2016

3 Comments

 
Grow your own currach.......well time's a wastin', the catkins are on the hazel trees and the year has begun once again to move along. So if you don't have the time for a currach build why not experiment with growing your own. Purchase the 30 or so hazel quicks from any garden centre and spend the next few years sculpting and dreaming......
3 Comments

Wet and Mucky...but healthy!!

18/2/2016

0 Comments

 
Picture
Picture
Just when the muck, rain and wind has us almost beaten, the whimpering of the dogs makes you regrettably don the rubber boots and search for the lead on the, by now, well soaked window sill. Dawn is slowly gaining ground over the winter darkness, but cold winds still funnel their way through the glen from yet another Atlantic storm. Seven shades of brown are easily counted as light begins to touch the mound and trees sitting by the swollen river. The little Logher stream spouts out a darker shade of brown water into the mix after washing its way through the fields of winter barley. All is wet to touch for weeks on end, but for the walks with the dogs you could easily turn your back on it and wait for March to show its face again. On one such walk last evening, I met Bill, the fisherman, who was returning from the canal after a full day’s fishing. “A healthy piece of water you’ve got there! I caught specimens of fish that lads would die for!” I haven’t fished ‘bob’ in 30 years but I do remember well using crab apples as floats to bob in the scum left behind at the grates entering the waterworks; shoals of fish that had been corralled into the canal after seeking shelter from the winter floods. But now with the sluice gates at the far end of the canal long since discarded, it is open game for all kinds of fish, and the mammals that follow them. Salmon have often been found on the upper banks after an otter had used the same waters to trap its movement and exhausted spent fish are sometimes seen drifting down the same canal to avoid the weirs and follies beneath the tomb of Newgrange. As I walked the bank last night I remarked to Bill that I had heard a sound of a splash, like that made by the tail of a seal, but on seeing the dog frantically about to jump in, it was the mink floating motionlessly in the water, again the hammering sound came from behind the rushes and immediately the mink was gone. It must have been a disgruntled otter making himself known we agreed, but they haven’t made a difference to the fishing Bill laughed, repeating to himself over and over again about how healthy the water was in that canal. So alarm bells rang this morning when I spotted the head of the seal just at the section where Bill always sits and fishes. Oh so fast they move when cornered and like a wet stag through the briars and bushes, it made waves that make a motor boat almost look pleasant. I knew I hadn’t time to bring the dogs back home, so instead I snuck up to the bend, thinking that is where he will appear to see if I was following. As soon as my nose came round the bend, off he flew up the last half mile of water way, only appearing to suck in a bit of air. By the time I was up to the river I knew he would be long gone, but on turning home, who popped his head up just before going over the weir? He looked at me as if smiling to himself on finding Bill’s healthy bit of water. 

0 Comments

    Claidhbh Ó Gibne

    An artist and currach-maker whose studio and home are located among the remnants of countless monuments in the Brú na Bóinne World Heritage Park.

    Archives

    August 2018
    October 2017
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    November 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    April 2014

    Categories

    All

    back to home

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.