Cork convoy diary: Group readying themselves for 1500 mile drive to Ukraine border 

The air is pretty chilly on the deck of the Stenna Horizon as we head into Cherbourg, but what wi-fi we can steal tells us there’s snow on the ground back in Cork, and it’s minus ten where we’re going, so all-in all we’re doing grand at the moment.

Five vans, fully loaded with humanitarian aid bound for Ukrainian refugees on the Polish border, are safely locked below deck, and the crossing last night was relatively smooth, with some of us reportedly sleeping sounder than others. When we land in France, we will drive the 1,500 or so miles to the Polish border in four-hour shifts.

A week ago, volunteers from Cork Missing Persons Search and Recovery (CCMPSAR) and Cork Penny Dinners formed Cork Humanitarian Aid Ireland, and since then they have raised over €25,000 and received more than 25 tonnes of clothing, medical supplies and non-perishable food.

The humour is good over breakfast, with Chris O’Donovan of CCMPSAR commentating on what he calls the “competitive snoring” of his cabin mates overnight.

”I’d just be getting into the rhythm of the fella snoring in the bunk downstairs from me, when the guy across the way would start honking like a foghorn. It’s just as well I’m so selfless, because I was forced to sacrifice my beauty sleep for ye two beauties.”

The laughter is tapering off when Tony, who had the bunk under me, says “I dunno what you’re smiling at, Donal. You were snoring so loud, the captain had to knock on the door at one stage and ask you to keep the noise down.”

Chris, a veteran of numerous humanitarian missions to Bosnia, Kosovo, Chernobyl and Albania, tells me later that spirits tend to run high on the first leg of journeys like this.

“Things get very serious very fast the closer you get to where you’re going,” he says. “There’s a nervous energy builds up as you head out, you might be scrambling to fill vans, or racing to get to the port and onto the ferry, and then there’s no more you can do till you get to the next port, so that tension tends to be released in messing and bla’guarding.

“That all changes when you get nearer to where you’re headed. The laughing and joking tends to stop pretty quick as you head into trouble. And trouble always comes to you before you’re prepared for it.”

Everyone on the convoy has seen the news, he says, and that’s why they’ve decided to travel. They know things are bad out there, if not how bad, and they just want to help people fleeing war and chaos.

“You have the camaraderie and the craic on your way out, and that will stand to you later, because things will get pretty grim once you start meeting people, and hearing the suffering they’ve gone through, and the losses they’ve endured.

“Take your laughs where you can, because there won’t be too many laughs where we’re going,” he says.