Don't forget the Criterion next Saturday the 16th for beers and pizza and laughing at my bizarre tan...
Oh, I'll fill the other days in later, but I guess old news is no news...
Rob, the Rothar Aird rider...
one man, three bikes welded together!
it's a lyric from a Killers Song Mikey. They're a popular beat combo...
So much happened today. most of it in the evening.
I'll be brief and fill it in later...
after riding through Strandhill,which does have an incredible surfing beach, and passed WB Yeats' resting place and the worst cycle lane that Andy Salkeld wasn't involved in laying out (hi mate... can you ask the Sustrans guy tor NI to get in touch again, I've been talking to Claire Lundy at Derry council and she's after sorting something out with him, so she is.)
Met Paul and his sons David & Dermot in Grange and got taken back to his house to meet his wife Mary and their wee daughter Anna, who thankfully is too young to be a Liverpool fan like the men of the house. Turns out my host for day 29 in Mary's brother Brendan in Donegal. And the host for the next night is Paul's colleague. Result. Brendan's taking me under his wing for a big weekend, which includes a night out and a ticket to Armagh v Donegal in GAA football on sunday. Can't say no to hospitality like this... will flesh this out when I get time.
Got fed really well, taken to the pub with NO women that used to be a shop, met some great characters and a really unbeleivable Scot, called, of course, Jim, and then to a house of a nother jim where the whole kitchen table was covered in booze. I'm late setting off today.
To Donegal & Ulster. my 4th province! all the way round to Lenster again and I'm done! 2 weeks today...
After a few beers, our bikes were locked at the pub and we were dropped at the B&B and told to be ready for 10pm... it was raining by now, and personally, I was more than happy not to be under canvas.
we were picked up by Tom and taken to the Broadhaven Bay Hotel in Belmullet to meet some truly brave guys. 3 firemen from bedfordshire and their support crew are circumnavigating Ireland in a rib, which is an inflatable speedboat. It was dead easy to spot the guys who were afloat, as they were windblown and tired.
In common with me, they were inspired by guys who'd been around Britain. I have to say, I take my hat off to thses guys. It's one thing being on a bike in gale force 8 winds, but being at sea and being battered by waves must be terrifying. Oh, and if anyone thinks I was exaggerating about the weather, the guys confirmed the wind was gusting to Severe Gale force 9 on friday & saturday and they were harbour-bound. There. I'm double-hard, or double stupid. after many pints, Tom had called us a taxi, which when we tried to pay for, we found they wouldn't take our money. Thanks Belmullet! it was a blast... follow the guys in the boat at www.uk-challenge.co.uk
Not a long day today, but, O, it felt like one. I took an inland route as there was places to stay at Oughterard and not really on the coast. Also, I tried in vain to avoid the Beaufort 8 winds. Didn't work. I was genuinely very scared a number of times today. Blown left and right by a very powerful headwind that would unpredictably push me towards the verge or the oncoming trafic: I decided on a couple of sections to get off and walk. IT WAS BAD.
I found the hostel at Oughterard and met, without probable exception, the man LEAST suited to the hospitality industry in the whole of Ireland. I was soaked, cold and scared witless and the man known as 'Arrogance on legs' in town wouldn't let em have a shower til 6pm. If Oliver didn't read this site I'd tell you what I really thought... Anyway. I found a pub in town (called Breathnacht's) that had a tasty looking menu and settled in.
A pint in front of the fire listening to the barmaid fend off the cheesy advances of the World's least sexy men, anglers, soon warmed me up.
Ann, the barmaid and her partner John got chatting to me and the owner of the bar had seen me struggling earlier in the day. Cyclists themselves, John and Ann paid for my meal and bought me a pint. The lamb stew and black pudding with bacon were top class. I went back to the Oughterard hostel feeling pretty good, and ready for a night's sleep.
Sadly, the humourless shower-nazi has no such controls over noisy clients. Boring anglers wittering on until I finally lost my rag and stormed up to their room and told them, in so many words as to shut the f*** up at 0130, kept me from sleeping. As did the snorers. Sheesh!
Genuinely the worst place to stay I've ever paid for, and the IHH should kick the guy off their register. Earliest check-out too.
In case you didn't get it. Oughterard hostel. Pants.
So, after a breakfast of cereal and tea - which is a joy after too many sausages, rashers and white puddings - I leave the Yeomans feeling really good about the day ahead. The Yeomans were great company, and it was really novel to start the day at the top of a hill. I headed towards the ferry port at Tarbert and caught my first glimpse of County Clare, my mother's home.
I made the ferry and for the first time on this trip I actaully asked for something for free, ier passage accross the Shannon. The fare collector was the most miserable human being I have ever met in my life. Sadly, I'll maybe meet him agian, but that's another story...
Of course the grumpy old scrote said no. Well, as they say here, he's a bollix.
I rode off the ferry into Clare and turned right. The water's going to be on my right for a couple of days as I need to see the Focus people in Limerick as well as see my Mum's brother Sean, my aunt Nora, my Cousin Tracey, her kids, etc, etc. A big sorry to Travelodge for messing you around. I really do appreciate all you guys are doing for me on this trip.
Anyway. Clare. Up, down, up, down. Never ending undulations, and really different to Kerry. Kerry's roads around the coast are very busy, where Clare seems a little less damaged by tourism. I managed to find Sean & Nora's place after being chased by dogs AGAIN and was more than happy to stick the bike in their study and wolf the enourmous steak I was offered.
Sean and Nora took me in their car to Corofin where my mother was born. It's hard to imagine a family of 10 living in such a small cottage. The view of the Burren from the lane across the way must have been some compensation for the lack of space. Next, we visited my grandfather and grandmother John and Maisie McNamara's grave. It was the first time I've ever visited a relative's grave. Dunno how to articulate the feeling, but I'm glad that the grave wasn't adorned with ceramic squirrels and other tut like so many were.
After a drive to the Burren, which really is the most bizarre landscape I've ever seen... A kind of limestone cross between the Nevada desert, the pyramids and Ayre's Rock littered with Neolithic sites I visited Patrick Power's pub in Clarecastle for some beers... Ireland is truly full of characters...
Slept like a log this mnorning!
Google Inchydoney. See? Gorgeous. As is Kinsale, Kinsale Head and the beaches en route here are as pretty as anything on Lewis or at Sidney... The town of Timoleague should be in a movie or a TV programme. Gorgeous. The civic art in Belgooly? Bizarre. Truly, I would have taken a pic if I weren't so horrified by it...
Anyway, Ray D'arcy tells the nation my knee is giving me hassle on the radio yesterday, and basically appeals for some accommodation for me...
Which is why I end up here... www.inchydoneyisland.com but it was a tough ride to get here, really. an I didn't eat enough as I underestimated the distance and the hills . Kinsale was pretty much ALL uphill from Cork apart from the final drop down into the port. Kinsale head is rugged, peaceful, wild and spoiled by a golf course on the vey tip. Please, spare me from golf. Please, the Irish need a National Trust equivalent to reclaim this bit of land. It's as crass as anything I've ever seen.. anyway, the beaches heading west? Stunning. The roads? Brutal. hilly, and partially surfaced for about 4 miles that felt like riding through treacle. Can I dispel a myth? Irish roads are OK. pretty good a lot of the time. Honestly. Except the bit near Timoleague.
I was on my last legs when I got to the Spa and met Ruth, who'd offered me the room for the night and the treatments for my legs. I was whisked to a room with a view of the beach and taken to meet Aoife who was to sort out my knotted muscles and to do some cryotherapy on me!
2 relaxing and occasionally painful hours later, after all the knots were ironed out of my legs I was shown to the thalasso therapy spa. I went to a spa in the Pyrenees last year, and it was one of the highlights of my holiday. This one was a little different in it uses sea water. Amazing... Jets of water massaged and relaxed my back and legs and neck and to be honest, I'm falling asleep writing this! zzz.
Short day tomorrow, then press on!