 The Mausoleum which marks the birth, death and tomb of the Dawson Family who with their great wealth and power gave streets in both Monaghan and Dublin their name. Inside are the remains of some of the Dawson Family.
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County Monaghan which is known for both “The Stony Grey Soil” which is immortalised in the poetry of Patrick Kavanagh and for its rolling Drumlins, created millions of years ago by passing glaciers, have combined to leave the county dotted with numerous river and lake systems.
One such river system is the Dromore River which joins Ballybay in county Monaghan to the stillness of Dartrey Forest outside of Cootehill in County Cavan.
The 13km trip requires navigating through seven lakes with stretches of grade two moving water which in the latter part of the trip form the physical boundary between counties Monaghan and Cavan. It has been 32 years since the rivers first descent and according to local historians this will be the first solo descent ever undertaken.
The trip began at midday on Saturday the 22nd of January with an overnight camp on the shores of Drumlona Lake and concluded on the morning of Sunday the 23rd.
Due to the recent high levels of rainfall the river had burst it banks in many places leaving it hard to identify where the river began and the drowned fields stopped. The forecast was for clear skies and minus two temperatures.
I packed a dry bag with trangia, tent, sleeping bag, provisions, camera and with maps and navigation equipment all went into the stern of the Dagger CFS.
Very strange looks
I carried the boat and equipment on my shoulder from where I was living just outside the town of Ballybay through the housing estates past the secondary school the 1km to the shores of Lough Major. With some very strange looks and a helping hand from my neighbour GP, I launched at 12 noon with the intention of camping out on the Crannog on Drumlona Lake which historically offered protection and safety to the Celts of Old.
Leaving Lough Major under the first foot bridge then the second, the flow took me past the burnt out Riverdale hotel. The town was soon left behind with only the views and the wildlife to keep me company I paddled on.
 I began to round Rectory Lake towards the third bridge at Balladian. The river spread out across the fields and what during the dry spells is a small lake and a defined river had become one vast lake covering all before me leaving me in the bizarre situation of paddling over the drowned farmland with its wooden posts and barbed wire growing out of the cold still waters. As I looked through the lens of my camera the landscape took on the guise of a huge patchwork quilt. With a quick compass bearing and a few pictures I was back on route and on schedule.
White Lake
 Next on the journey was to the paddle across White Lake which is famous for its fishing on Bairds Shore. The trip was broken up with a brief encounter with some fishermen and a fly over by fifteen swans. It was already 3pm and my hands were beginning to freeze. Close to the shore of the lake where it remained in the shadow of the hills was still frozen as the boat cracked it’s was through the thin film of ice which had formed.
I left White Lake behind and was now on the Dromore once again. With farm houses far off in the distance and no farm animals in the fields it was pretty lonely out there. The fourth Bridge of the trip was now in sight with some limbo manouvers I was under the main Rockcorry to Ballybay road. A car passed over and I waved my gesture was not returned, he didn’t see me. And why would he, the river had not been descended in almost 32 years. I carried on towards the camp site.
Clossagh Lake was crossed next then back onto the river system to the next destination, Ballynascarva Bridges the fifth and sixth Bridges along the river trip. Passing under them with ease I hopped out for a quick inspection and a few pictures of the GNR Bridge. The Great Northern Railway linked Belfast in the north to Dublin in the south bringing with it prosperity and riches as it passed through the many towns on its route. During the summer it has been known for the local OEC staff to jump its 10m height. But today on my trip the water temperature was close to freezing and I was getting hungry. So I pushed on towards Drumlona.
The river began to flow a little faster and with the increased water levels I was soon upon the remains of two thatched houses. Time and neglect allowed the mud walls to crumble permitting the world to see what remains inside.
T-junction
Eventually I arrived at a T-junction in the river, to the left the Dramore River continuing towards Cootehill and to the right the entrance to Drumlona Lake. The lake opened up with fields on the right and Dartrey Forest soaked in the evening sunlight to the left. In front the moon reflected in the ripples of the lake as it shone from above.
The intended camp site was the Crannog but the level of rain fall in the past week ensured the proposed site was 30cm under water. The night was closing in fast, the temperature was dropping. A quick scout of the shore revealed a flat piece of ground, and as quick as that, a new camp site was chosen.
With the tent pitched and trangia cooking dinner I had a chance to take a few more pictures of my surroundings before the night set in. I then began to put extra layers of clothing on. With the starter of soup and main course of Noodles, desert of fruit and all washed down with cold soya milk it wasn’t the Ritz but it hit the right spot.
My feet felt like blocks of ice
 That night was the coldest point of the trip. The temperatures dropped lower than the expected minus two to minus five. My feet felt like blocks of ice, every time I managed to warm them up my toes would sting with a cold bite. But sleep took over and with the addition of an extra fleece thrust down the sleeping bag I fell off to sleep until the next morning. At six am I woke to a phone call from my girlfriend, Virginia, wondering if I had survived the big freeze of the night before. Once up I sparked up the trangia and had a coffee.
With breakfast down and camping gear stowed the phrase “Take nothing but pictures and leave nothing but footprints” echoed in my mind as I cleared up the camp site and started to continue towards Cootehill. Only 4km remained, it was early in the morning, much too early for my pick up at Halton’s Bridge.
I continued to take pictures as the Dromore River flowed into the Dromore Lake and past Belmont House on the right which belongs to the Coote Estate where the lord of the manor visits rarely and then only to entertain dignitaries, millionaires and royalty.
There is an inlet covered by reeds which links the Inner Lake and Dromore Lake. The cast iron bridge is the best exit point. The bridge is one of the oldest remaining pieces of cast iron bridge work in Ireland. It also gives an excellent opportunity to look over at Belmont House.
The walk around the island is a complete circle. Once on the bridge turn right then left all the way around up to the Mausoleum which marks the birth, death and tomb of the Dawson Family who with their great wealth and power gave streets in both Monaghan and Dublin their name. Inside are the remains of some of the Dawson Family. From the elevated vantage point if one was to take a peek at the inner lake one could see the remains of two Crannogs.
 Once again back to the CFS and onwards, towards the eighth and final Bridge of the adventure. Here and there fishing stands mark the proximity of the car park, with one final glance back at the river behind two Swans paddled passed, paying no heed as I took my last few pictures of the trip.
The Dromore continues to flow, paying no notice to the first solo navigation of its 13km length.
Alan Judge
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