Traditional Boats

Back to the Skeams: 81 Men Left the Island

Fishing was a huge part of how the islanders made a living and fed themselves and their families. For how this was conducted I am relying on Hester’s detailed account. She writes about her parents’ generation and also about her own – her husband, Patsy, also went fishing. I will use Hester’s words, from her memoir, Misty Memories, lightly edited for a bit of brevity.

Most of the men from the islands around went Lobster fishing every Summer. There were 27 lobster boats in Heir Island when I was ten years old and at school there. Each boat had a crew of three men. That meant that 81 men left the island from May to September and went to Kinsale and Cobh – a long journey along a rough coastline in very shallow sailing boats.

A traditional Heir Island Lobster Pot. © National Museum of Ireland*

Lobsters were caught in baited lobster pots, made of willow twigs and anchored in deep water. The men made the pots themselves during the winter months. Some were very skilled and others helped them – they worked as a team or ‘meitheal’ as it is called in Irish. They had special tools for the job and a sort of mould around which they wove the twigs so that the pots had the proper shape. Rowing for miles to the other islands and to the mainland to get enough twigs, they carried big bundles on their backs, often having to walk four or five miles back to the boat. 

The authority on traditional Heir Island boats is Cormac Levis, and this book is a must for anyone interested in this topic. It is currently out of print but you might be able to find a copy online. Cormac is planning a second edition for 2026.

Lobster boats had three sails and the smallest one of these, called the ‘Towel Sail’, was used to make up a sleeping tent over the boat’s stem. Just as with the lobster pots, the men made the sails themselves. There was a lot of work in them and some of the men were really expert at it. Sails for the lobster boats and other bigger boats were made of canvas with a rope sewn firmly all around the edge. They made special eyelets across the sail to hold the reef cords so the sail could be made smaller in high wind. 

Cormac’s own boat, the Saoirse Muireann, is a traditional towelsail yawl, built at Hegarty’s boatyard

There were lots of preparations to be made for going lobster fishing. When pots and sails were right, the boats were filled with ballast and sunk in deep water for two weeks to close the seams after winter dry dock. Then they were taken up, painted inside and tarred outside. The three-man crew came together to put in the ‘pig-iron’ – slabs of iron for ballast to keep the boat from capsizing. They then put in the steer and the helm and a big anchor. Special ropes and stones were prepared to tie the pots deep in the fishing ground. They called these the ‘Killick rope and stone.’ Next, they added the utensils – a tin basin for washing and for making bread, pots, a kettle, tin plates and mugs. Foodstuffs, including the flour for making bread, were kept in the little cupboard built into the stem of the boat. Drinking water was stored in a ‘breaker’, a round wooden barrel that held a few gallons. They also brought potatoes and coal for the fire.

This photograph shows the relative size of the three boats used in the Heir Island fishery. Left to right is the Saoirse Muireann, the Saoirse and the Hanorah

They had an iron bastible pot they called ‘the oven’ to hold the coal fire. The set-up for the fire had to be very carefully and safely arranged. A thick piece of cast iron was placed on the thwart mid-way in the boat and the fire pot was put on top. All the cooking was done on this fire. A pig’s head, potatoes and vegetables were all boiled together in an aluminium bucket. They also cooked fish. One man was in charge of the bread-making. They made white soda bread – very thin cakes that baked quickly. Bits of soot sometimes got into the white flour and the bread would have black streaks in it.

This is the largest of the boats. This is the fabled Saoirse, a replica of the boat sailed around the world by Conor O’Brien is 1923-25. It is a 42′ Ketch and the design was based on a traditional Roaringwater Bay fishing boat

There was smoke and soot everywhere and the men’s skin and clothes were black on their return home and took weeks to get clean again. The combination of soot, salt water and the hauling of ropes caused the skin of their hands to crack. Their ‘intensive care lotion’ was to ‘pee’ on their hands to toughen the skin. They all put on lots of weight during the lobster season and when they came home and their skin cleared of soot, they had a great healthy colour.

Joe says in his account In 1934, when I was thirteen, we got a boat built by Harry Skinner at Baltimore.This was a small light boat, not the boat above, but I am including this image as it is of a Skinner-built mackerel yawl. It’s from this source.

Washing and shaving were done by sitting the basin of water into the open end of a lobster pot to keep it steady. The same tin basin was used for everything – washing, shaving and making bread. Three towels had to do them for the whole time they were away and these towels were jet black when they came home. They wore flannel underwear – ‘the wrapper’ was a thick vest top with long sleeves and ‘the drawers’ were full length long-johns. The women made all these by hand from their own patterns. All the seams were sewn by hand – herringbone stitch to make sure they never ripped. The younger men didn’t like wearing this heavy underwear but they soon found they were so cold out at sea that they were glad to have them. Each man had three sets of underwear kept in a flour bag with their other clothes and a small bottle of Holy Water.

The Hanorah is another traditional boat built at Hegarty’s – this one was used for mackerel fishing

The lobster-men were really skilled at their job. They knew exactly where to get the lobsters and how to handle them without getting bitten when moving them from the pots to the storage basket. This basket had to be kept submerged under a buoy until they went ashore and sold their catch to buyers along the coast – lobsters had to be sold alive. 

A closer image of the Laveneer loaded with lobster pots

The three men had to get on with each other in a very small space and co-operate together for their own safety. They said the Rosary together every evening and used their Holy Water to bless themselves, their boat and their pots. Patsy’s father, Mike O’Neill (called Mike, the Laveneer or Mike Mary Harte) was considered one of the best boatmen around. He was described in Heir Island as “the safest man going out the harbour mouth” (Baltimore Harbour).

This is aboard Cormac’s Saoirse Muireann this summer – it will give you a feel for the kind of room we had in the boat

Hester’s memories above were of her father’s generation, but her husband, Patsy also went to sea when he needed to and it was an anxious time for Hester.

In the last few winters before we left Heir Island Patsy went herring fishing to Dunmore East in County Waterford. He went with a crew from Cape Clear in a small trawler called ‘The Radiance’. Herrings were in great demand in those days and when they had a week of good catches, he sent the money home in a registered letter. I tried to save some of it for the day when we might be able to get a place in the mainland. I remember how the children and I used to write letters to him and address them to ‘Boat Radiance’ c\o Dunmore East Post Office where he picked them up when they landed their catch, and wrote back to us. He could be away for up to three months in the depths of winter and I was always worried for his safety in the stormy seas on those cold winter nights.

It might be a while before I get back to Hester and Joe, but there is lots more to tell from their accounts on life on a small island in Roaringwater Bay

The Picarooner

Question: what’s the connection between these rather lovely donkeys in a little North Devon (UK) village, and our own beautiful Roaringwater Bay (below)?

Answer: a Picarooner! And here is one . . .

Selkie belongs to our friends and neighbours, Oliver and Susie Nares. It has a mooring at Audley Cove – just over the hill from us. It has been out of the water during the winter receiving some refurbishment and a new colour scheme (it’s shown above in last year’s livery). I was pleased to get an invitation to the launch this week, down at Rossbrin Cove.

Oliver and Selkie, getting ready for the launch

A Picarooner is a small fishing boat which has a long history. The name is reportedly the corruption of a Spanish word and means ‘sea chaser’ or ‘sea robber’. These boats are now associated with the North Devon coast and, specifically, the fishing village of Clovelly, where they still bring in catches – mainly of herring – using sustainable methods. But there is a fascinating etiology legend – which they will tell you in the West Country – that they were originally the ‘cockboats’ or shore tenders carried on board the galleons of the Spanish Armada which foundered on the west coast of Ireland and the southwest coast of England in the summer of 1588 while trying to return to Spain by circumnavigating the British Isles and Ireland. These endeavours were confounded by exceptional storms and lack of local knowledge of treacherous coastlines together with the effects of a strong gulf stream pushing them off course. There were many attempted landfalls in Ireland – in County Clare, Kerry, the Blasket Islands and Valentia Island – resulting in numerous wrecks. It is logical that their cockboats, which were stored on deck, would have survived the destructions and taken on lives of their own, wandering the lonely seas until they landed up on strange shores. One such landing was at Clovelly – or so the story goes – and the local fishermen and boatbuilders there were so impressed with the construction of the craft – its size, shape and manoeuvrability – that they established their own fleet of them to seek out the enormous shoals of herring which had arrived off that coastline due to a medieval climate change bringing warmer waters. That same climate change also brought a similar influx of fish to the south west of Ireland and – particularly – to Roaringwater Bay, allowing the Gaelic chiefs here to prosper.

Photo above by Franzfoto, Wiki Commons; header photo  by Adrian Pingstone, Wiki Commons

This is the fishing village of Clovelly, probably little changed from the times of the Armada and the herring bonanza. It is built into the side of a cliff and the one cobbled main street is so narrow and steep that only donkeys and pedestrians can negotiate it. I know it well, as I spent numerous years of my architectural career working on projects in the village, restoring scores of cottages, boating facilities and the two village inns. The village is owned to this day by a descendant of Zachary Hamlyn who, born to a farming family in Higher Clovelly, made his fortune as a lawyer in London and returned to purchase the whole estate for around £9,000 in 1738.

Old Clovelly – romantic views from Alfred William Hunt (upper) and an engraving (lower), both mid nineteenth century

It’s very fitting that the Nares should launch their Picarooner herring boat under the shadow of Rossbrin Castle, as Finnin O’Mahony, who occupied it in the fifteenth century, became fabulously wealthy through the medieval herring and pilchard fishing industry. The O’Mahonys and their fellow Gaelic overlords levied dues on visiting fishermen from Spain, Portugal, France and England and provided victuals, barrels, salt, liquor – and fish palaces for processing the catch.

The Nares family getting their feet wet, and preparing to run back to Audley Cove. Interesting to note that the Picarooner has a ‘cockboat’ of its own!

It’s worth going back to Clovelly before finishing off this post. Here is a gem: the village Harbourmaster, Stephen Perham, giving us a first-hand account of using a Picarooner for its traditional purpose – fishing for herrings. I remember Stephen well from my Devon days.

Oliver and Susie’s boat was built by Martin Heard of Tregatreath, Mylor Bridge in Cornwall. Martin sadly passed away in 2009, but the yard still builds and maintains traditional boats. This is another connection for me as I had cousins living in nearby Perranarworthal, and spent idyllic summer holidays there in my youthful days.

Many thanks to the Nares for inspiring this post and providing some of the material, including the view of Selkie under sail (above)

Cruinniú na mBád – the Boat Gathering

It only happens once a year! During Ballydehob’s Summer Festival traditional sailing boats gather in Roaringwater Bay and when the tide is right they sail up the shallow waters of Ballydehob Bay to the quay.*

This is a tidal estuary and normally not deep enough to be a reliable port of call for boats, especially those with keels. But during the high summer tides the waters become navigable, provided you time it right, and Ballydehob breaks out the band, fires up the barbecue and invites all sailors to the quay for a gathering like no other.

The Cruinniú na mBád (pronounced krinoo nuh mawd) is part of the village Summer Festival so from year to year it’s a real community affair. The vintage cars and tractors (my goodness there’s a lot of them in West Cork) parade behind a marching band to kick off the week of festivities. The week is filled with music in the pubs, guided walks around the village, charade competitions, and an evening of street sports where we cheer on the youngsters in the madcap turnip race and a completely socially irresponsible event involving chugging beer and pushing a wheelbarrow with an occupant (only in Ireland!).

Turnip races down the main street and crab fishing at the quay

On the weekend the whole village takes to the Pier. The kids compete for medals in crab fishing, there’s a “world famous duck race” (I have no photographs as it’s been cancelled due to bad weather so often), there are fireworks (when it’s dry enough) from the Twelve Arch Bridge, and we await the arrival of the Old Boats.

This year’s entertainment was the fabulous East coast Jazz Band. We catch up on the chat, and look out for one of our popular locals sailing in

It’s an oddly emotional experience to see the boats appear, one by one, and round the bend into the last stretch to the quay. Emotional because this is essentially a re-enactment of what was commonplace in former days, when the quay at Ballydehob was a bustling hive of commerce. Bigger boats would anchor at the entrance to the Bay and lighters would haul the cargo to the quay.

Not all the boats are old – some have come just to be part of this unique gathering – but most are traditional and many of them have been lovingly restored. Some, like the Ette, have been rescued from extinction and reconstructed from crumbling derelicts by master boatbuilders Anke Eckardt and Rui Ferreira – check out their site for an illustrated guide to the slow and skilful processes involved.

Anke and Rui arrive in their Ette-class boat

At this year’s gathering Anke’s parent, Dietrich and Hildegard, our neighbours and friends, were there with their classic fishing boat, the Barracuda.

The whole Levis family sailed in on their beautiful Saoirse Muireann (seer-shuh mirren, Freedom of the Seas), a traditional Heir Island Lobster Boat. Cormac has written the book, literally, on these boats: Towelsail Yawls: The Lobsterboats of Heir Island and Roaringwater Bay. He started this gathering way back in 2004 and it’s been going strong ever since.

Saoirse Muireann coming in to dock. The term towel sail comes from the Irish word teabhal (pronounced towel) meaning shelter, as the sail could double as a kind of tent in wet weather.

Another traditional boat was An tIascaire (on tee-skirruh, The Fisherman), a traditional mackerel yawl. Like many boats in these parts, this one has benefitted from the extraordinary knowledge of the boatbuilders at Hegarty’s Boatyard at Oldcourt – regular readers will remember Robert’s post about this wonderful place.

It’s also lovely to see a Galway Hooker, An Faoileán (on fwale-awn, the Seagull), participating – their black hulls and red sails are instantly recognisable. This one has quite a history – and reading it educated me as to the difference between sails that are gaffe-rigged, versus a traditional Irish rigging known as pucán-rigged (puck-awn). Of course all you sailors know this already, right?

Our friend Jack O’Keefe organises a rally every couple of years for Drascombe Luggers and they joined the gathering en masse in 2014. Unlike 2013 it wasn’t the best of weather, but that did nothing to dampen the spirits of the sailors. It was lovely to be there on the dock to cheer them in.

The Drascombes raft up alongside. Jack O’Keefe and  keen sailor Sheena Jolley

It takes lots of sailing know-how to get up the Bay, but even more to manoeuvre into the tight spaces along the quay, or raft up alongside. By the time everyone’s there, they are rafted up four and five boats deep. 

Then it’s up on shore to partake of the music, the food and the friendly camaraderie that is so typical of both the boating community and the village of Ballydehob, until finally the word goes around that the ebb tide has started and it’s time to carefully push out and take to the seas again – until next year.

 I’ll finish with a video. Sit back and enjoy it, and think about the hundreds, no thousands, of years of history that is evoked by the sight of boats sailing up Ballydehob Bay.

*The photographs in this post are not all mine. Barney Whelan (friend and follower of Roaringwater Journal) was in one of the boats and sent me some taken on the water. Thank you, Barney! Some were shamelessly stolen from the Fastnet Trails Facebook Page, and are the work of the indefatigable Margaret McSweeney (great people shots – thank you, Margaret!). The video is by Tom Vaughan of Oakwood Aerial Photography – he makes West Cork look even more beautiful than it is (and that’s saying something) in his amazing drone footage. The rest of the photos are mine and were taken in 2013, ’14, ’16 and this year.