A river runs through it, full of life

THERE hasn’t been as varied exploration of the River Lee since St Finbarr came down from Gougane Barra in the seventh century and founded the city of Cork.

The river wrapping around the southern capital is teeming with life.

Last week, to public welcome, three dolphins came up the Lee’s south channel. Sadly, one of them died in a river salmon fisherman’s draft net, but it highlighted the diversity of river life that any half-observant sentient being can spot if they watch the urban section of river going about its daily business, ebb and flow.

Back in 2001, the spectacle was a celebrated trio of killer ‘orca’ whales, a mother and two offspring, nosing their big-bodied way and upright fins up the river, at least five miles from Cork’s outer harbour (the singer John Spillane got a cracking good song Orca Orca Killer Whale out of it.)

In between such awesome, grand-standing visits, the river Lee also hosts smaller, ‘eye-pod’ star attractions like porpoises, solitary scavenging seals, and oarsmen and women from rowing clubs, and kids in kayaks. Come July 30, it will be hardy swimmers, for the reinvigorated annual Lee Swim.

On typical days, you’ll likely see a seal or an otter’s head in the water (there are families by the North Mall, and Lapps Quay) or mullet lazily finning upriver; salmon are back on form, mink are rife, and birdlife is rampant. Curiously, it’s the tourists who take to the Lee’s waters who are most aware of it all.

Cork city hosts sea-safaris in season, where fast RIBS whizz visitors down river, and to the harbour mouth to spot dolphins, scan the scenery and much more.

Going against the river’s flow — and to witness as great a diversity — are the many day-tripping visitors, paddling in smaller, hand-propelled craft.

Experienced paddler Jim Kennedy, of Atlantic Sea Kayaks, has taken hundreds of novices and the nature-curious out in canoes up and down sections of the Lee’s diverted channels. Kennedy lists regular sightings of seals (there’s one confused specimen who likes mounting the plastic craft), otters in two locations, mullet, salmon, lots of mink, kingfishers, swans, mallard, egrets, assorted gulls, cormorants and more. Species of dolphins include risso’s and bottlenose; orca and killer whales are rarer, a bonus and a privilege to see — the ocean to the city. Their arrival so far upriver is most likely trouble, for themselves at least, when displaced and led astray, for whatever reason, from wider and saltier seas.

The river’s human volunteer visitors have come from well over a dozen countries, as well as from all over Ireland, and include several international media groups as well as a good scattering of Irish Examiner folk, possibly even checking out work commute-by-canoe options.

Last month’s Meitheal Mara and Ocean to City weekend of water-borne activity also saw a circumnavigation of the Lee, under dozens of bridges, by dozens of local enthusiasts (your columnist included), mostly in canoes and kayaks, but including a few too in light rowing craft. It was a revelation.

The river’s just beautiful, and the views from it beguiling from a waterborne perspective: carved ‘River God’ heads under St Patrick’s Bridge? Majestic. The private gardens at the end of Sunday’s Well’s big houses? Enviable, but only for the fortunate. Fitzgerald’s Park? All ours, thankfully. The Mardyke? Suitably sporting.

Then, a swift portage by a sluice above Wellington Bridge, and it’s down the pastoral route less seen, under overhanging trees and over river weed and gravel by Victoria Cross (Hi, poachers!), past the Western Road and UCC’s campus and Glucksman Gallery, down towards Washington Street and the start of weirs (tide timing is important to avoid these as much as possible, while also squeezing under bridges), past the medieval-feeling river section around French’s Quay and the expectant Beamish and Crawford brewery site. Then it’s a home run again, past quays and familiar church steeples to where the channels reunite by the Harbour Commissioners.

Along the meander, you can peer into back gardens, startle birds into flight, and fish duck and dive in your paddle-path. There’s a rare feeling of urban river connectedness. On the doorstep. Down a few quay wall steps, naturally. Way to go.