Holyhead to Dublin by RIB: an Irish Sea crossing to the River Liffey

Last year, after twenty-five years of boating I finally achieved my goal of making the crossing from Holyhead, Anglesey to the Isle of Man. This I thought would be enough to scratch the exploration itch and leave me content to stay in local waters. My good friend and cruising buddy Anthony soon convinced me otherwise and our sights were quickly set on Ireland.

Having taken advantage of a Stena Line offer a few years previous, we had been day trippers to Dublin together – walking along the banks of the River Liffey thinking to ourselves how fun it would be to see the city from the water – a notion that would resurface countless times in conversation as time went on. So, there it was, our destination chosen based on an idea we had during a walk to a pub!

As with any passage, especially an open-water crossing, planning would be key. We would be a long way from home, and literally hours away from any kind of help should we need it.

Plans were made that in the event of mechanical breakdown we would attempt a self-rescue by towing the casualty vessel to the nearest location, be it Ireland or Wales. We would also have to be prepared to leave our boats in Ireland and make our way home by ferry should the need arise. In any case, we would make our situation known to the coastguard in the first instance.

Fuel, and its availability is invariably high on the list of considerations with options being limited. Petrol of course is harder still to source on the pontoon, but we look for it anyway. Having an up-to-date copy of Reeds Nautical Almanac and studying the relevant sections should be considered essential. For those who may be unaware, this invaluable publication is where you will find local navigation waypoints and hazards as well as local services and amenities. Phone numbers and VHF channel numbers for marinas, harbour masters, VTS control centres and even local GP surgeries are also listed. It must be noted that the almanac is intended to be used alongside regular navigation charts.

As I scour the pages of the almanac, and pore over the chart, I realise that there is a lot to consider, and that this would not be a simple case of putting the chartplotter’s cursor over Dublin and setting off. First off, Dublin is very much a commercial port with only a small provision for leisure boaters. In addition, there is a huge no-go area outside the mouth of the Liffey which is reserved for the huge ships waiting to dock in the city’s port. We would therefore need an alternative location to make landfall.

Scanning Google Earth, as I often do, gave me a better overview of our intended destination, and with it the location of nearby harbours and marinas. As luck would have it, 2.5 nm to the south of the entrance to the Liffey is Dún Laoghaire Harbour and its marina within. Almost unbelievably, petrol is available on the pontoon, making our adventure that bit easier. Personally, I always like to have a plan B, so I also found another location where we could potentially land the boats and walk to a petrol station nearby should we encounter a problem in the marina.

Keeping an eye on the weather apps as we do, we spied a sustained period of calm weather approaching. Messages between myself and Anthony were furiously exchanged and I set about meticulously, though hurriedly finalising plans.

Of course, in situations like this it is essential that you study not only the local weather forecast, but also that of your destination. The reality of getting lucky and having the forecasts match up is the reason why these trips are so infrequent for us in small boats.

In the days prior to our trip I rang Dún Laoghaire marina to enquire about the availability of petrol and of course the procedure to follow in order to obtain it. Pages of the almanac were photographed (I would also take the book with us) whilst key bits of information such as compass bearings, VHF channels and the marina’s phone number were written on a plastic diver’s slate stored behind the plotter.

Saturday morning arrived and with it the blue skies and calm seas we had been promised. The boats, Northwind Challenger, a 5.8 Tornado with myself and son Tom on board along with Bowser, a 4.8 Ribcraft with Anthony and daughter Paige, were fuelled and provisioned and we were off.

Around 15 nm outside of Dublin we were greeted by a large pod of dolphins. As always, we stopped in order to enjoy this sight without disturbing them. They however made it quite clear that they were here to be sociable. As we set off again they surrounded our boats, breaching in our wakes, crisscrossing under our hulls and keeping pace alongside. It’s hard to say how long this went on for but needless to say we were in no rush for this magical encounter to end.

Pressing on, the 31 m reinforced concrete structure that is Kish Bank Lighthouse soon came into view.

The harbour at Dún Laoghaire spans an area of 250 acres and is cocooned by two formidable-looking breakwaters constructed of granite blocks, the longer of which is around 1.5 km in length and set out in a horseshoe arrangement. Simply named as East and West Piers, it is the eastern structure that looks the most forbidding. Surrounding its circular granite lighthouse is a fort-like structure with gun emplacements. Originally built to defend the port, it quickly became a ceremonial gun saluting station used to mark prestigious events.

We took our time exploring the harbour before seeking out the marina to the west. As it was around noon we decided to eat before refuelling.

Holding short of the southern breakwater I called Dublin VTS. Explaining that we were two RIBs hoping to head upriver sightseeing, we were given the all-clear, though instructed to stay outside of the navigable channel on the southern side of the river. We were to remain listening to Ch 12 all the while we were there too.

Entering the Liffey was an eerie experience. The sea mist was still very much upon us as we made our way past huge commercial buildings and docks.

Passing beneath the first of many bridges over the river we left the industrial setting behind and became enveloped by a vibrant city scene steeped in history, successfully blending modern businesses with old buildings.

Contacting Dublin VTS once again, we sought clearance to pass through the port and exit the river. This time we crossed the channel and stayed to the north of the no-go area before plotting a course to the east and home.

The wind had now picked up considerably, creating a steep, short chop on the port bow.

Our final push home would be in the dark, the familiar flash sequences of the lighthouses at The Skerries and South Stack were a welcome sight. Rounding the end of the one-and-a-half-mile-long harbour breakwater, marked by its own green flashing lighthouse, we caught sight of home.