A tough day. More wind and rain. Visited Focus Limerick and Parteen National School. More to follow... Oh, the guys on the Shannon ferry were really nice this time. Thanks guys!
Well, my diary's upstairs, so this is from memory...
Started the day with a visit to Parteen National School, where my second-cousins Niamh, Darragh and Kevin go...
My cousin Tracey had arranged for me to turn up, so I got Focus to meet me there. So, Louise and I faced a palyground full of faces who'd never seen anything quite like the tallbike before. a couple of the teachers rode the bike around the playground... Notably Olivia Parkinson who had no idea of how to get off the thing and rode into a crowd of scattering 10 year-olds... very funny!
Next, I was shown into Miss O'grady's class to talk to about 25 kids about what I'm doing... Then into Miss Anderson's class. My favourite question from the kids was... Have you seen any sharks from that thing?!
Anyway. Off to Focus in Limerick. Seeing what they do first hand was quite humbling. Taking people out of the hostel system and teaching them how to look after themselves in the rental sector is such important work What did YOU do today? Share price ok? Well done...
50 miles into the wind later, I ended up in Kilrush. A guy called Tom O'Keefe stopped me for a chat and bunged me €50 today, as did Jesse at the hostel. Cheers guys!
Showing posts with label Kerry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kerry. Show all posts
Tuesday, 15 May 2007
Friday, 11 May 2007
Day 14 - Dingle to Listowel 48.5 miles, 4 hours 41
The Conor Pass. I've been hearing about it for ages. "Are you really going to ride the Conor Pass on that thing?!"
Well, yes. I was going to ride the Conor Pass on the tallbike, as it's the northern route out of Dingle.
Having a rest day, which I really needed by he way, made me NOT want to start moving again. I'd had a meal which I'd had a hand in cooking for the first time in 2 weeks the night before, had a sauna, a jacuzzi, a massage, wandered round being lazy and hung out for the afternoon with Candice and, well, I was tired.
Candice is quite an impressive girl... bronze medals for Tae Kwon Do at world level and about to resume her medical studies. Good cook too.
Later in the evening I went to the Small Bridge pub with various people from the hostel. The boys playing music there were easily the most moving Irish musicians I've ever seen. the guitar player plays exaclty as I'd like to be able to play... Uilleann pipes are much more melodic and soulfull than the Scots version... anyway. I am become more of a plastic Paddy by the day.
So, bed, wake up and think: "I don't want to ride today". Inertia.
I kitted up, said goodbye to everyone and headed off towards the Conor Pass. 1 hour and 4 miles later I was at it's peak of over 500 metres. Of course I'd started at sealevel. Sadly, it was cloudy and the views to both sides of the peninsula were a little less spectacular than they could have been. I was freezing, too as the swaet I'd worked up was getting wind-blown by the now familiar winds, which were luckily at my back today, and gladly half as strong as they have been for the last few days.
The next hour I managed 14 miles, and it would have been more if the roads on the north of the pass were any cop at all. Single track and bumpy. Still.
A largely uneventfull day once I'd dried out and negotiated Tralee. Busy town!
On the road to Listowel I was wondering why my host for the night, Greg hadn't been in touch. A van driver flagged me down for a chat, and luckily it was he. Born on Westcotes Drive and now a resident of Kerry. Leicesterfarian number 2!
I'm full of curry that he treated me to, and I'm sat using his computer at his family's home... Marvellous. County Clare tomorrow... Sorry Limerick!
zzzzz
Well, yes. I was going to ride the Conor Pass on the tallbike, as it's the northern route out of Dingle.
Having a rest day, which I really needed by he way, made me NOT want to start moving again. I'd had a meal which I'd had a hand in cooking for the first time in 2 weeks the night before, had a sauna, a jacuzzi, a massage, wandered round being lazy and hung out for the afternoon with Candice and, well, I was tired.
Candice is quite an impressive girl... bronze medals for Tae Kwon Do at world level and about to resume her medical studies. Good cook too.
Later in the evening I went to the Small Bridge pub with various people from the hostel. The boys playing music there were easily the most moving Irish musicians I've ever seen. the guitar player plays exaclty as I'd like to be able to play... Uilleann pipes are much more melodic and soulfull than the Scots version... anyway. I am become more of a plastic Paddy by the day.
So, bed, wake up and think: "I don't want to ride today". Inertia.
I kitted up, said goodbye to everyone and headed off towards the Conor Pass. 1 hour and 4 miles later I was at it's peak of over 500 metres. Of course I'd started at sealevel. Sadly, it was cloudy and the views to both sides of the peninsula were a little less spectacular than they could have been. I was freezing, too as the swaet I'd worked up was getting wind-blown by the now familiar winds, which were luckily at my back today, and gladly half as strong as they have been for the last few days.
The next hour I managed 14 miles, and it would have been more if the roads on the north of the pass were any cop at all. Single track and bumpy. Still.
A largely uneventfull day once I'd dried out and negotiated Tralee. Busy town!
On the road to Listowel I was wondering why my host for the night, Greg hadn't been in touch. A van driver flagged me down for a chat, and luckily it was he. Born on Westcotes Drive and now a resident of Kerry. Leicesterfarian number 2!
I'm full of curry that he treated me to, and I'm sat using his computer at his family's home... Marvellous. County Clare tomorrow... Sorry Limerick!
zzzzz
Thursday, 10 May 2007
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...
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...
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
Day 11. Waterville - Milltown 42 miles ish. Bike computer doesn't like rain!
Luckily, I'd done the worst climb of the ring of Kerry last thing yesterday: Coomakista Pass is only about 300 metres, but you start at sea level, and, well, with the horrendous head-wind which really must have been near-gale force at times (that's 7 on the Beaufort Scale, readers) i was doing 3.5-5 miles an hour all the way up it, only to find the hostel in town was shut down, the B&B was a little spartan, and the pub had a loud-mouthed Londoner with tourettes in it. Before I got there. Anyway... that's yesterday evening. I set out after a ridiculously early check-out. 0930, into cold rain. Nasty. the wind wasn't as strong as the day before, and as I knew I'd be heading inland after 10 miles or so, I was happy to have it at my back for most of the day. I found a library with internet access, but the PC worked so badly that it could have been set up by Prav Gupta. (in-joke for vermin).
Disgruntled, and still unable to work out why these blogs appear to be out of synch (any ideas Mikey?) i rode off and met the German couple on their bike tour that Rebecca had told me about. They had so much kit strapped to their bikes that I was moving about 50% faster than they could. Nice couple, but where's the fun in that?
Nayway. The cloud was low enough to obscure the views accross to the Dingle peninsula, and if I'm honest, the traffic on Inveragh was so heavy and fast at times to spoil it as a cycling route. I did get a glimpse of Inch Beach where Keith and Jane went on their honeymoon and I'm keen to see it properly as everyone says how gorgeous it is.
I stopped for a cup of tea in Glenbeigh as I was fed up of the drizzle, and it was there the day improved. I met Jill and Wilkie (proof that not everyone whose name sounds that way isn't best avoided, ignored or worse) and they recognised my bike from the paper straight away. Being a family of cyclists - their sons Louis and Michael race (I think Ava their daughter is much more keen on her dancing), they were keen to find out about the trip. 3 minutes later, I was offered a bed for the night and the rest is history.
Riding through Kilorglin on the way here I met my first traqffic jam since Dublin. I also met Steve, my first Leicesterfarian, from Huncote. He's left the M69 corridor to live in Kerry and he's been here for 9 years. I can see why, but, oh, I'd miss the curries.
I'll be headed for Dingle when I leave their house, which from where I sit, I can see Carauntoohil from the window. Thanks guys!
Disgruntled, and still unable to work out why these blogs appear to be out of synch (any ideas Mikey?) i rode off and met the German couple on their bike tour that Rebecca had told me about. They had so much kit strapped to their bikes that I was moving about 50% faster than they could. Nice couple, but where's the fun in that?
Nayway. The cloud was low enough to obscure the views accross to the Dingle peninsula, and if I'm honest, the traffic on Inveragh was so heavy and fast at times to spoil it as a cycling route. I did get a glimpse of Inch Beach where Keith and Jane went on their honeymoon and I'm keen to see it properly as everyone says how gorgeous it is.
I stopped for a cup of tea in Glenbeigh as I was fed up of the drizzle, and it was there the day improved. I met Jill and Wilkie (proof that not everyone whose name sounds that way isn't best avoided, ignored or worse) and they recognised my bike from the paper straight away. Being a family of cyclists - their sons Louis and Michael race (I think Ava their daughter is much more keen on her dancing), they were keen to find out about the trip. 3 minutes later, I was offered a bed for the night and the rest is history.
Riding through Kilorglin on the way here I met my first traqffic jam since Dublin. I also met Steve, my first Leicesterfarian, from Huncote. He's left the M69 corridor to live in Kerry and he's been here for 9 years. I can see why, but, oh, I'd miss the curries.
I'll be headed for Dingle when I leave their house, which from where I sit, I can see Carauntoohil from the window. Thanks guys!
Monday, 7 May 2007
Day 10. Kenmare to Waterville. 40.5 miles. 4 hours 46
Briefly... Rode with Pauline and John to Sneem after a marvellous breakfast at Bacus in Kenmare. Lovely town, my favourite place so far, and definitely the best porridge I've ever eaten. The road to Sneem was littered with beautiful places. Blackwater Bridge nearly pips the Linn of Dee for my favourite waterfall, the wooded section just before you open out onto the sea views accross to Beara was magical, and well, I'm no travel writer, but it lives up to all the hype. The wind was quite something tho... in Sneem there were postcards blowing down the street as the display outside a shop blew over. About 10 of us scrabbled around picking them up for the lady who's shop had lost all it's stock. Hope she could sell some of them afterwards, and I know she probably had a couple of hours work to sort them out... Shame, but pretty sight.
Anyway, I said see you in Clare to John and Pauline, and then headed into the wind. Horrific. Genuinely. When it was in my face 7 mph was all I could manage on the flat, when it was coming accross me, I thought I was going to get blown off the road. Other more sensible folk were pushing their bikes. It was genuinely scary. I pushed onto Waterville, taking an hour to cover 7 miles at one point. Sheesh. Right... better get on.
Anyway, I said see you in Clare to John and Pauline, and then headed into the wind. Horrific. Genuinely. When it was in my face 7 mph was all I could manage on the flat, when it was coming accross me, I thought I was going to get blown off the road. Other more sensible folk were pushing their bikes. It was genuinely scary. I pushed onto Waterville, taking an hour to cover 7 miles at one point. Sheesh. Right... better get on.
Saturday, 5 May 2007
Day 8. Skibbereen to Castletownbere. 55 miles. 6 hours 25
Brief one this time. Seems so long ago. I left the Carmody's to their wedding preparations and headed north. Thanks guys... hope it all goes well next week.
I'd decided to skip the Sheep's Head and Mizen Peninsulas as I was suffering with my knee and wanted to make sure I could get round. Pragmatism. I hate it.
I'd also disappointing found out the ferry from Baltimore to Schull wasn't running, so I was sulking a little, cos I fancied covering some miles without pedalling.
I headed to Ballydehob which is where Jeremy Irons lives. Alright for some, I say...
I passed a house on the way to Bantry were the gate ornaments were the strangest I've ever seen - they looked like werewolf heads. I'll post the images up when I get home, but really, really odd. The woman who lives there doesn't even have dogs!
I reached Bantry hungry enough to eat just about anything despite a big bowl of porridge at the Carmody's. Guess I've not been eating enough, so I wolf down some lasagne at some cafe where the girls were overworked. Nobody in Banty spoke to me, which is quite unusual for this trip, and to be honest, I didn't like the place. too many English!
I decided to push for Castletownbere, which Mikey had told me was worth a visit.
I encountered my first rain of the trip on a mountainous road. Grim. Some german and austrian girls stopped me for a chat. I was glad of the rest and sometimes a bit of a chat can break the monotany of riding along trying to tune my radio into a channel with even half decent reception.
Castletownbere is quite pretty. All the shops are painted in different pastel hues, and in decent light, it be picturesque. The hostel was mad, tho. Everyone I meet knows about it. A converted nunnery, with a Polish woman with a voice like a husky man running it. Her boyfriend likes to walk round in his undercrackers showing his muscles to all and sundry. They argue, in comedic style, and the hostel's expensive. I didn't care.
I ate in a decidedly average place called Murphy's. At least they didn't sit me down at a dirty table and leave me there for 5 minutes like the frosty old witch at Jack Patrick's did. I got talking to Pete James, the music for the night in O'Donahues. Nice guy, really, but he didn't tell me til later that if I'd gone accross the road I could have seen the legendary Fureys at the pub everyone knows in town, MacCarthy's. Doh.
I staggered home to the nunnery. I slept, only to be woken by a church bell. Joy. Average breakfast in Murphy's. Castletownbere is NOT a destination for the gourmet tourist!
I'd decided to skip the Sheep's Head and Mizen Peninsulas as I was suffering with my knee and wanted to make sure I could get round. Pragmatism. I hate it.
I'd also disappointing found out the ferry from Baltimore to Schull wasn't running, so I was sulking a little, cos I fancied covering some miles without pedalling.
I headed to Ballydehob which is where Jeremy Irons lives. Alright for some, I say...
I passed a house on the way to Bantry were the gate ornaments were the strangest I've ever seen - they looked like werewolf heads. I'll post the images up when I get home, but really, really odd. The woman who lives there doesn't even have dogs!
I reached Bantry hungry enough to eat just about anything despite a big bowl of porridge at the Carmody's. Guess I've not been eating enough, so I wolf down some lasagne at some cafe where the girls were overworked. Nobody in Banty spoke to me, which is quite unusual for this trip, and to be honest, I didn't like the place. too many English!
I decided to push for Castletownbere, which Mikey had told me was worth a visit.
I encountered my first rain of the trip on a mountainous road. Grim. Some german and austrian girls stopped me for a chat. I was glad of the rest and sometimes a bit of a chat can break the monotany of riding along trying to tune my radio into a channel with even half decent reception.
Castletownbere is quite pretty. All the shops are painted in different pastel hues, and in decent light, it be picturesque. The hostel was mad, tho. Everyone I meet knows about it. A converted nunnery, with a Polish woman with a voice like a husky man running it. Her boyfriend likes to walk round in his undercrackers showing his muscles to all and sundry. They argue, in comedic style, and the hostel's expensive. I didn't care.
I ate in a decidedly average place called Murphy's. At least they didn't sit me down at a dirty table and leave me there for 5 minutes like the frosty old witch at Jack Patrick's did. I got talking to Pete James, the music for the night in O'Donahues. Nice guy, really, but he didn't tell me til later that if I'd gone accross the road I could have seen the legendary Fureys at the pub everyone knows in town, MacCarthy's. Doh.
I staggered home to the nunnery. I slept, only to be woken by a church bell. Joy. Average breakfast in Murphy's. Castletownbere is NOT a destination for the gourmet tourist!
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