On the second leg of the Sea Road series around Ireland's top kayak routes, GARY QUINNpaddles the Copper Coast off Co Waterford
IF YOU’VE ever dreamt of travelling through a Lord of the Rings-style landscape, then hitch a ride down to Waterford’s Copper Coast. Deep caves, towering sea arches, seemingly impassable rock fissures and strings of islands grip the imagination and slowly seduce as you pass among them. You need a guide to experience the Copper Coast best. This isn’t a place to discover: you want to be led right to the heart of things.
My guide, Mick O’Meara of Seapaddling.com, just happens to be the fastest and most experienced paddler on this coastline and, according to some, he’s one of the best in the country.
He certainly knows his sport: he has taken the title for the toughest canoe race in the world (the 125-mile non-stop Devises to Westminster canoe race) three times. He has won the International Liffey Descent seven times. He holds the record for the fastest kayak crossing of the Irish Sea; and, until a few weeks ago, he held the record for the fastest circumnavigation of Ireland. Not surprisingly, he is also a level-five (the highest) sea kayaker and, more importantly, he loves the coast that shapes his home county.
The Copper Coast is a European geopark that stretches for 25km along the coast from Tramore to Dungarvan in Waterford. It gets its name from the 19th century copper mines that were burrowed down into the soil in search of precious metals. Many of these shafts are still open and warning signs dot the clifftops, encouraging tourists to stay away lest they stumble into one.
The paddle O’Meara has planned for us will venture along a 16km route that starts on a wide sandy beach and passes through tremendous rock formations before the impressive and perfectly-named metal man signals a safe haven in Tramore.
The beach is deserted when we arrive, save for a horse being exercised. The wind that has been keeping us weatherbound for weeks has somehow paused for breath and a gentle swell is building into sets of rolling waves. Pulling out onto the water is a fantastic release and with a breeze at our backs we start to make our way along the coast. The cliffs rise gently at first along our western side, the sandy beaches giving way to pebble strands and rock slides. We spot a fox on the beach, a fresh catch in his jaws. He pauses for a moment and glances our way, then trots out of sight.
O’Meara is animated now: pointing out the rock formations, the colours that seep through the stone, the difference between those that are man-made from pollution and those that ripped through the earth during the ice age. Centuries lie in evidence before us, a geologist’s dream.
But I have my eye on the headlands ahead. I’ve heard the caves here are dramatic and am anxious to see one. O’Meara pulls ahead and calls for us to follow. Darting between rocks, he paddles forward then disappears into darkness. We follow cautiously and find ourselves deep within the hillside, our sight lost for a moment. As it returns, the sheer size of the cave alarms us, the sharp rocks that make up the roof of the cave looming downward. We call out like children, our heads craned backwards, our voices bouncing around the cold stone.
O’Meara laughs and pulls away, knowing that this is only the beginning. He leads us further along, all the time pointing out rock formations, birdlife, island names. He talks about the whales and dolphins that often appear along this stretch of water and the mackerel that teem beneath the cliffs.
The next cave is narrower and more claustrophobic but O’Meara keeps going in, the light fading. And then, in almost complete darkness, just as we seem to have reached the back of the cave, he pulls to the right. Following him, I see a dot of light that suddenly grows into a hidden exit that brings us out into a sheltered bay. The water here is calm, protected by the high walls of the cliffs that curve around and above our heads. A string of islands stretches along the horizon, standing stones and arches dominating the inner part of the bay. Ahead of me are two rocky outcrops. I’m startled by the choice on offer and, left to lead the way ahead, I’m caught like a rabbit in headlights, not quite knowing which way to go.
I’m not left to lead for long. Next up is a series of sea arches. At first it looks like a wall, there’s no way through. Even as we follow O’Meara we can’t see how he will do it. He’s paddling into solid rock, and then bizarrely the rock seems to open, the sea forcing its way through. We follow and he loops around, driving a figure-of-eight through arches as big as cathedrals that bring us back upon our route and into the full force of the wind. We have to push now to get through it as the wind that was at our backs funnels through the massive tunnel created by the arch, reminding us how strong the wind really is.
We laugh at the experience and then look round just quickly enough to see O’Meara dart ahead. He isn’t finished yet and finds another gap in the rock. We start to follow but he is already through, positioned to talk us past unseen rocks lying just under the surface.
There’s a calmness to O’Meara’s plan. He has paddled these waters so many times, and knows every nook and cranny. There are lots of possibilities for different kinds of paddlers, he tells us. On a fine day it’s easy to get beginners out on a shorter triangular route, one that shows off some of the more dramatic aspects of the coast. Stronger paddlers can have a different experience again, building distance in to their day and getting into even tighter corners.
It’s also where O’Meara does all his distance and stamina training for those record-breaking crossings. He’s a born teacher, too, and before long he’s talking me through his training schedule, bringing the idea of a real sea crossing into my realm of thinking. It’s all about training, he suggests, building towards a goal.
And now, nearing Tramore, beneath the Copper Coast’s famous Metal Man, I can’t help looking beyond the Sea Road, about where I might go after and thinking maybe you really can move mountains. Maybe I could cross the Irish Sea. It’s a new idea to me. O’Meara and the Copper Coast have that kind of effect – inspirational.
My boat:this was a rock-hopping day and my boat, the Tahe Marine Greenland T, performs well. The wind at our back makes for an easy paddle and the few wind corridors we meet are no problem to its sleek lines. But it's made of fibreglass, so the rocks are more of an issue than if I was in my plastic boat. Apart from a few minor scratches we did very well, manoeuvring easily among the more perilous passages.
I’ll have to get some pointers from dublinbayseakayaks.ie on how to maintain a boat like this, protect and repair it.
EAT:The Copper Hen restaurant, Fenor, Co Waterford.
Copperhen.ie 051 330300
SLEEP:Comeragh Hostel (on working farm), Few, Kilmacthomas, Co Waterford.
See comeraghhostel.com
All about the Copper Coast:
VISUALLY, THE Copper Coast is very attractive and offers a totally different kind of sea kayaking experience.
It’s essentially a route for exploring: it’s filled with caves, sea stacks, arches and beautiful hidden coves.
One of the things that first-time visitors notice is the dramatic colour of the sandstone rocks. The geology is fantastic and it’s the sheer complexity of the coastline that makes it exciting for a sea kayaker. The challenge is the distance and getting into those nooks and crannies or landing on some of the exposed sea stacks.
On a fine day, nipping in and out of caves and coves makes for a very enjoyable day of exploration. A lot of the islands are steep, like small sea stacks.
The landing beaches are generally in small hidden coves behind.
It’s a place you go and explore, stick the nose of your boat around corners and find new things. The beauty of a sea kayak is that all you need is six inches of water and a 2ft gap to venture where no boats have gone before.
* Seán Pierceis a level-five sea kayaker and has selected the routes for this series
SEÁN PIERCE