Days 12 & 13 Miltown to Dingle, 34 miles 4 hours

Look at that time and distance. Write it and weep. I've wanted to see Dingle as long as I can remember. Inch Beach, the music, Fungi the dolphin. The Waterboys connection. For a hundred reasons. I have to say the ride here was almost as joyless as writing some UNIX code to provide worthless data to some self-important merchandiser. At least I had a clear motivation: Get to Dingle.

The wind and the rain were hideous, but really, the wind is much, much worse. I left Wilkie & Jill's place with instructions to go and see Lorna at the Phoenix. I struggled along for an hour and found the Phoenix was a building site. I went and said hello, and I'm glad I did. She's made me a veggie stew with black-eyed beans and sweet potato and it was GOOD. If it's any indication of the sort of food the cafe serves, I'd eat there a lot if I were a local. She also offered me a bed for the night, which in retrospect I should have taken. Her son Sam, who's a bike mechanic, confirmed my fear that the chainrings are bent on the tallbike.

Stronglight cranks are shite. Sue me. Useless, bendy, weedy. Do not use them.

The rain was just as hideous as when I'd stopped, but Dingle was only 22 miles away, so I said thanks but no to the ofer of the bed, and headed off.

By the time I'd got to Inch, I was in a seriously bad mood. The rain had stopped, but the wind off the Atlantic was brutal. Wheelie bins lay on their sides, and some of the hideous election posters that have ruined the view all over Ireland were being torn and bent.

One of the sections I'd looked forward to was ruined by the fact I was getting violently blown accross the road and that the headwind was unbearable. On the flat I was i the smallest gear nearly all the time, and even on some sections I could manage no more than 6mph DOWNHILL. I've never done anything more physically and mentally demanding than those 22 miles. Harder than the 3 peaks challenge, easily.

I normaly try and muster a wave or smile for the people who stop and get there cameras out but never sponsor me. Yesterday I was screaming what about a donation into the wind, knowing full well that nobody would hear me above the gusts.

Anyway. I rolled into Dingle in a black mood, after being scared of the winds blowing me over and fighting for every inch of my progress to find out my promised host for the next two nights was AWOL, and I had turned down 3 other offers in this town, too. Hmmmph.

I went to the Grapevine Hostel on recommendation of Eileen. I'm surprised they let me in, I looked so mardy.

Still, everyone there was really friendly. Candice offered told me about the sauna and pool where she works at Harmony health club and offered to smuggle me in in the morning (just been and had the place to my self - Marvellous).

Niamh from Fermanagh cheered me up with her tales of swimming with Funghi and her cycling experience that day which weren't much better than my own...

So, in a marginally better mood I went to Blue Zone for a pizza and a few beers. Nice place, with a good singer and her pissed-up guitar accompianist. Really funny watching Clare's expressions at his 'stylings'. She spent half the night trying to find other guitarists to take his place...

Anyhow the pizza was pretty good, but nowhere near as good as The Criterion in Leicester, but when was the last time the Criterion had any attractive canadian back-packers in there? Or mountains, or the Atlantic, or anything really apart from a sarcastic barman and good beer and pizza. Huh?

I also met Lorna from the Phoenix and her friends in Blue Zone. She introduced me to Terry, a really interesting guy who explained why all the roadsigns for Dingle are painted out, and about the unfortunate associations with the name An Daingean and how it's not even the name of the place in Irish. Hmmm. Confused? Me too. He's a cyclist, and excentric enough to fit right in at Cyclemagic, being a tandem rider and ex penny-farthing rider. Is there no escape?!

Nobody snored in the Dorm:-)
Day off today. and of course, it's not windy. Grrrr.

Oh, and all you store-whores reading this. 8.1% bonus? Surely a fiver each wouldn't hurt? Thanks to Simon who's already sponsored me...