I woke to the sound I dread most on this trip. Strong winds. Not good. I was planning o seeing the Antrim coastline at a leisurely pace as there's so many things along there from Dunluce Castle, Bushmills, Giant's Causeway, the rope bridge, etc. I rolled over only for my phone to go off. It was Kerry. He'd offered to take me for breakfast and I was not out of bed yet. I slung my clothes on (let me tell you how sick of wearing the same clothes for 6 weeks I've become) and dragged the bike out for Kerry to have a ride on the thing. The gears and brakes have long since gone passed a servicable standard and I always worry for anyone fool enough to ride the damn thing, but Kerry seemed to enjoy himsel getting blown accross the road near the harbour well enough. I didtched the bike and went to Coleraine for an Ulster Fry.
An Ulster Fry. I could write a few pages on this treat. Fried soda bread, fried potato bread, fried pancakes, fried eggs, fried bacon and fried sausages. All fried. I never want another one as long as I live! my arteries clogged, I decided tat there was no way I was gonna ride in this weather. Kerry sails a 22 foot boat and rides a touring bike and confirmed my decision was a wise one... He dropped me at the Gian's Causeway (after I'd turned down Damian's kind offer of a loan of his scooter. I'd have take him up on it, but I've promised myself not to drive anything until I ge back home.) The Cuaseway was more impressive than I thought it would be. it's no place to walk in cycling shoes with metal cleats, as the basalt is slippy enough when it's wet to start with. My camera chose a great time to let the batery go flat. When rested on a rock to take my pic on the timer, the wind was so strong I had to dash and catch it as it got blown over. In fact, it was actually hard to walk there, but the place is so beautiful that I didn't mind getting a good soaking to marvel at this plave I've wanted to see for a very long time.
My rough guide book states it's hard to believe the place was created naturally. Well, only if you're stupid. The rock formations are clearly crystals, huge ones at that, but obviously natural, and incredibly beautiful. I'll definitely visit here again.
A taxi back to town before a nap, using Kerry's internet conection, and then a big night out at Ramore's and the Harbour pub in Portrush. Ramore's is a huge, busy place, but manages to serve truly tasty food while providin a great view over the harbour. I had chilli beef pasta and garlic poptatoes and left not a scrap. Kerry and his mates Robert and Steven would not even let me buy a pint all night. Thanks guys. Portstewart/Portrush goes right up there with Belmullet, Dublin, Grange and Letterkenny as nights out I'll never forget.
Oh, thanks to Ann for saying I seem English only in my accent. I think that's a compliment. Or is it?
Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts
Monday, 4 June 2007
Friday, 1 June 2007
Day 34. Malin Head - Derry. 39.2 miles. 4 hrs 8 mins
Right. I left Malin with a bit of a dicky tummy, no breakfast in me and a deadline to meet Mark Patterson, a presenter on Foyle FM, the BBC station for the Derry area at 3 pm.
First we had to head to Banba's Crown, the most northern point. Done. Steep, evil little hills that made me almost sick from the exertion. Nasty start to the day...
So, yet again, I had to split from Aidan and take the high road. I've long since worked out that heading across any peninsula is not really the easy option. There be hills that way, and of course, they always involve a long climb and a short fast downhill section, as it was today towards Quiggley's Point in intermittent drizzle, and the wind, which I shit you not, was now coming from the south. FFS! I know it's about pressure equalising, etc, and if it blows west for long enough, it has to blow east at some point, but it just seems to be in my face the whole time. Grrrr. However. I'm bored of typing so I'll be brief. After crossing the county line/border at Muff, yes, I know, all that gave away any sort of border crossing was the road signs changed to MPH and the petrol stations were all out of business as it's cheaper to buy fuel in the Republic.
The 'better' roads of the North just meant the drivers were more aggressive, with - sadly - just as many rally-driving-obsessed Civic and Impreza drivers with exhaust pipes bigger than a Ferrari... Roundabouts where 2 dual carriageways crossed forced me to dismount for the first time since Dublin because of a road system.
Entering Derry was a little odd. The signs just said 'Welcome to the Walled City' - nothing about (London)Derry. Almost desperate to skirt the whole name issue.
Maybe it's the easiest way. I dunno. Either way, Derry doesn't look like any part of Ireland I'd seen. It does LOOK like Britain. Like Scotland I guess. I made my way to the radio station where I was to be on after some child musicians and a young lad born with no lower jaw. Poor sod. He was quite funny tho', with his Steven Hawking voice generator thingie. I wish him all the best for his gruelling operations in America coming up.
After declining the invite to attempt my Belfast accent on air, I headed to the Travelodge to secure our beds for the night. I have to thank Richard O'Sullivan again here as the Travelodge was bang in the middle of town and just what I needed. A room with a bath and a TV to watch 'The Simpsons' (the episode where Homer moves the family out to work for an evil James Bond baddie character).
After eating at a Witherspoons Pub (Yes, I feel dirty. I'm no fan of Tim Martin and his anti-Euro cronies.) I headed off in search of Free Derry Corner with Aidan. Spooky as hell, I turned a corner and knew where I was as well as if it was my own home town. I've seen the streets of Bogside on TV a thousand times. A placard on a house commemorating an 11 year old boy killed by a plastic bullet chilled my blood. I stood in amazement at the murals and the Bloody Sunday memorial. What an introduction to the North. I didn't feel comfortable or happy at all. I still don't. I dunno what to say or think and I'm certainly not going to express opinions on it all here here and now. I can't say I liked Derry very much despite nothing happening adversly and being treated very well. Hmmmm.
First we had to head to Banba's Crown, the most northern point. Done. Steep, evil little hills that made me almost sick from the exertion. Nasty start to the day...
So, yet again, I had to split from Aidan and take the high road. I've long since worked out that heading across any peninsula is not really the easy option. There be hills that way, and of course, they always involve a long climb and a short fast downhill section, as it was today towards Quiggley's Point in intermittent drizzle, and the wind, which I shit you not, was now coming from the south. FFS! I know it's about pressure equalising, etc, and if it blows west for long enough, it has to blow east at some point, but it just seems to be in my face the whole time. Grrrr. However. I'm bored of typing so I'll be brief. After crossing the county line/border at Muff, yes, I know, all that gave away any sort of border crossing was the road signs changed to MPH and the petrol stations were all out of business as it's cheaper to buy fuel in the Republic.
The 'better' roads of the North just meant the drivers were more aggressive, with - sadly - just as many rally-driving-obsessed Civic and Impreza drivers with exhaust pipes bigger than a Ferrari... Roundabouts where 2 dual carriageways crossed forced me to dismount for the first time since Dublin because of a road system.
Entering Derry was a little odd. The signs just said 'Welcome to the Walled City' - nothing about (London)Derry. Almost desperate to skirt the whole name issue.
Maybe it's the easiest way. I dunno. Either way, Derry doesn't look like any part of Ireland I'd seen. It does LOOK like Britain. Like Scotland I guess. I made my way to the radio station where I was to be on after some child musicians and a young lad born with no lower jaw. Poor sod. He was quite funny tho', with his Steven Hawking voice generator thingie. I wish him all the best for his gruelling operations in America coming up.
After declining the invite to attempt my Belfast accent on air, I headed to the Travelodge to secure our beds for the night. I have to thank Richard O'Sullivan again here as the Travelodge was bang in the middle of town and just what I needed. A room with a bath and a TV to watch 'The Simpsons' (the episode where Homer moves the family out to work for an evil James Bond baddie character).
After eating at a Witherspoons Pub (Yes, I feel dirty. I'm no fan of Tim Martin and his anti-Euro cronies.) I headed off in search of Free Derry Corner with Aidan. Spooky as hell, I turned a corner and knew where I was as well as if it was my own home town. I've seen the streets of Bogside on TV a thousand times. A placard on a house commemorating an 11 year old boy killed by a plastic bullet chilled my blood. I stood in amazement at the murals and the Bloody Sunday memorial. What an introduction to the North. I didn't feel comfortable or happy at all. I still don't. I dunno what to say or think and I'm certainly not going to express opinions on it all here here and now. I can't say I liked Derry very much despite nothing happening adversly and being treated very well. Hmmmm.
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Day 31. Donegal - Dungloe. 46.2 miles. 4 hours 46
Leaving Donegal was tinged with the fact that, because I'd spent some time watching the game and hanging out with the Bradys, I was going to have to high-tail it through the county. This meant heading in-land, but I'm here on holiday first and foremost. Without wanting to sound defensive, if anyone wants to accuse me of skiving in Donegal, I say 'Guilty, Your Honour', but the inland roads in this county cross some hills, let me tell you. The Ras comes up here, and foolishly I rode some of the roads they use, which certainly put my fitness and mental toughness to the test...
Oh well. So, I headed out towards Killybegs in cold rain and blustery winds from the North. Which, of course, is the general direction I'd be heading today. Hmmmph. I wasn't going to have time to follow the coast round Slieve League, the tallest cliffs in Europe (not that you can see them without a long walk) so with myself resigned to that, I headed for Ardara. Look on the map. See how many mountains are on that section?
In Ardara a guy called Chris shouted me to stop; He's a cousin of Eleanor who works at Mannin Bay hotel, and he'd been looking out for me. Small world, etc... He introduced me to Anthony Molloy, a proper hero in these parts as he was Donegal captain when they won the All-Ireland Football Championship in '92. Nice guy, bunged me a €20, wished me well and did what I wish folks wouldn't do; Warn me about a hill up the road. It was a right ball-breaker of a hill tho'. As steep as any I'd faced so far. I was glad not to have stopped for lunch or I'd have seen it again straight away.
More hills on the way to Dungloe. Lots of them. Anyway, I arrived at the Rockery B&B which had a marvellous shower, something I've come to really appreciate...
I asked the owner where I should eat. She said NOT to eat in Dungloe. I had no choice, but she insisted I not eat anywhere on risk of an upset stomach. Great.
I tried one place, which she warned me specifially about. It was like the cafe in Withnail & I. It was closing. The only other options were a Chinese takeaway called Doodle Bug. I'm not eating anywhere named after a weapon of anti-civilian warfare, so I tried the hotel bar of Ostan Na Rosann. Dreadful, really. The dead eyed waitress took my order for the safe option of lasagne and chips & salad. A few minutes later a cereal bowl full of oilly, piping hot lasagne arrived with a salad that realy was almost old enough to vote. Curled up peppers, dehydrated cucumber, etc. I struggled through the pasta, and got out without touching the salad or leaving a tip. Dejectedly, I wandered back to Beedy's Bar to listen to the locals discuss the merits of various Transit van models for a quiet pint before bed. Zzz
Oh well. So, I headed out towards Killybegs in cold rain and blustery winds from the North. Which, of course, is the general direction I'd be heading today. Hmmmph. I wasn't going to have time to follow the coast round Slieve League, the tallest cliffs in Europe (not that you can see them without a long walk) so with myself resigned to that, I headed for Ardara. Look on the map. See how many mountains are on that section?
In Ardara a guy called Chris shouted me to stop; He's a cousin of Eleanor who works at Mannin Bay hotel, and he'd been looking out for me. Small world, etc... He introduced me to Anthony Molloy, a proper hero in these parts as he was Donegal captain when they won the All-Ireland Football Championship in '92. Nice guy, bunged me a €20, wished me well and did what I wish folks wouldn't do; Warn me about a hill up the road. It was a right ball-breaker of a hill tho'. As steep as any I'd faced so far. I was glad not to have stopped for lunch or I'd have seen it again straight away.
More hills on the way to Dungloe. Lots of them. Anyway, I arrived at the Rockery B&B which had a marvellous shower, something I've come to really appreciate...
I asked the owner where I should eat. She said NOT to eat in Dungloe. I had no choice, but she insisted I not eat anywhere on risk of an upset stomach. Great.
I tried one place, which she warned me specifially about. It was like the cafe in Withnail & I. It was closing. The only other options were a Chinese takeaway called Doodle Bug. I'm not eating anywhere named after a weapon of anti-civilian warfare, so I tried the hotel bar of Ostan Na Rosann. Dreadful, really. The dead eyed waitress took my order for the safe option of lasagne and chips & salad. A few minutes later a cereal bowl full of oilly, piping hot lasagne arrived with a salad that realy was almost old enough to vote. Curled up peppers, dehydrated cucumber, etc. I struggled through the pasta, and got out without touching the salad or leaving a tip. Dejectedly, I wandered back to Beedy's Bar to listen to the locals discuss the merits of various Transit van models for a quiet pint before bed. Zzz
Sunday, 27 May 2007
Day 29. Grange - Donegal. 35.5 miles, 3 hours
My coast host for the night in Donegal, Brandan Brady had quite a weekend lined up for me... But I'll get to that in a bit...
I left Grange with donations and a hangover... I had a great night with Paul and his friends in one of those pubs in shops where there are 40 men squeezed into one bar... No women. Bizarre. Ended up staying out far too late at a guy called Jimmy's house with Mick, Donal, Barry, Paul, Alan, Sean etc. Grange is a strange place, but I had a good time there.
Many thanks to Paul, Mary, Sean and Grainne! At last I've met a Grainne - It's the name I've given the tallbike. It means Grace. Ahem.
Anyway, I made good progress out of Sligo, through Leitrim and into Donegal - I'm in Ulster, my fourth province - Until I got to near Rossnowlagh - The village that is always 2 kilometers away. Who put up the road signs here? Did my head in... seriously, there must be 5 roadsigns along the way and the place never gets any closer...
I missed all the bad weather today, somehow. Roads were wet but I didn't get a drop of it, despite some big black clouds.
I rode through Donegal and found Brendan's place easily enough. We locked the bike away and I had myself a bath so hot that I nearly passed out when I tried to get out. dur. A glass of iced water and a lie down sorted me.
Annette, Brendan's partner, made me the strangest salad I've ever had; strawberries, tuna, ham, banana, cheese. Somehow, it was delicious and I left nothing...
Brendan had been playing football somewhere while the salad & bath had been going on, so Annette & I drove up to Letterkenny to meet some more for my folk for my night out. More Bradys: Emmet, John, David. Ray from Armagh, Brendan & Myself went into town to McGinley's for a few beers where they set about trying to explain the rules of Gaelic football: They'd got me a ticket to the big game at Ballybofey - Donegal v Armagh. Sold out and the biggest game in Ireland today!
After a late night with some guitars, the boys had a whip-round for me and, after not letting me put my hand in my pocket since I've been in the county, bunged me €150. Thank you all! More is to follow on Donegal. What a great couple of days... I'll write it when I get down the road a bit.
Oh. I'm not able to get my staple diet of Yorkies with biscuit & raisin up here. Bah. Double Deckers are just as good, tho!
One major concern is my eyesight seems to be failing. It's always been better than 20:20 but it's getting a bit blurry. Hope it's just cos I'm tired.
Right, it's late, I'm behind schedule and I need to get a wiggle on to make June 9th in Dublin.
There is, like I say, much more to write about this place... zzz
I left Grange with donations and a hangover... I had a great night with Paul and his friends in one of those pubs in shops where there are 40 men squeezed into one bar... No women. Bizarre. Ended up staying out far too late at a guy called Jimmy's house with Mick, Donal, Barry, Paul, Alan, Sean etc. Grange is a strange place, but I had a good time there.
Many thanks to Paul, Mary, Sean and Grainne! At last I've met a Grainne - It's the name I've given the tallbike. It means Grace. Ahem.
Anyway, I made good progress out of Sligo, through Leitrim and into Donegal - I'm in Ulster, my fourth province - Until I got to near Rossnowlagh - The village that is always 2 kilometers away. Who put up the road signs here? Did my head in... seriously, there must be 5 roadsigns along the way and the place never gets any closer...
I missed all the bad weather today, somehow. Roads were wet but I didn't get a drop of it, despite some big black clouds.
I rode through Donegal and found Brendan's place easily enough. We locked the bike away and I had myself a bath so hot that I nearly passed out when I tried to get out. dur. A glass of iced water and a lie down sorted me.
Annette, Brendan's partner, made me the strangest salad I've ever had; strawberries, tuna, ham, banana, cheese. Somehow, it was delicious and I left nothing...
Brendan had been playing football somewhere while the salad & bath had been going on, so Annette & I drove up to Letterkenny to meet some more for my folk for my night out. More Bradys: Emmet, John, David. Ray from Armagh, Brendan & Myself went into town to McGinley's for a few beers where they set about trying to explain the rules of Gaelic football: They'd got me a ticket to the big game at Ballybofey - Donegal v Armagh. Sold out and the biggest game in Ireland today!
After a late night with some guitars, the boys had a whip-round for me and, after not letting me put my hand in my pocket since I've been in the county, bunged me €150. Thank you all! More is to follow on Donegal. What a great couple of days... I'll write it when I get down the road a bit.
Oh. I'm not able to get my staple diet of Yorkies with biscuit & raisin up here. Bah. Double Deckers are just as good, tho!
One major concern is my eyesight seems to be failing. It's always been better than 20:20 but it's getting a bit blurry. Hope it's just cos I'm tired.
Right, it's late, I'm behind schedule and I need to get a wiggle on to make June 9th in Dublin.
There is, like I say, much more to write about this place... zzz
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Day 23. Rest Day in Mannin Bay 6 miles
Tony's offer of a second night was so welcome. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning before breakfast and decided to take him up on it...
When I sloped into the hotel bar for breakfast, I was confronted with the tallbike, € notes taped all over it, and a photo of the women who'd had their hen night the night before clambering all over it.
Tony had the bile brought in and basically raised more money for me than anyone since the first night with Eily and Conor (hello guys... hope you're still coming to Dublin on the 9th).
I was so touched, genuinely. I walked into the restaurant to a small round of applause from the other guests and felt so, so humble. I really don't think what I'm doing is such a big deal. People do amazing things everyday, and I'm just on holiday, you know?
Still, I showed a few folk how to ride the bike, had kippers for breakfast which was a complete treat, got the Observer in the village - free book; The weather. Great!
Went for a short bike ride to Slayne Head which is the most western lighthouse in Eire, and you know what? After the day from hell, I loved riding a bike.
people smiled at me today, didn't take my photo without acknowledging me (I hate that. I can see why celebrities batter paparazzo, I can... I must have my picture taken 50+ times every day, and so few want to talk about what I'm doing or even smile).
Anyway, I've loved riding bikes since I learned on my cousin Debbie's Raleigh Chipper in Birmingham when I was a wee boy. I'm sure I always will. Excuse the schmaltz, but bikes have been such an important part of me sorting myself out after escaping from the Evil Empire this year, and I have so much to thank the guys at Cyclemagic for, even if they are too useless to send me my saddle to relieve the horrible saddle-sores!
Do it. Go for a bike ride. Or escape the Evil Empire. Both will be good for your soul, if not your bank balance...
Anyway, I sat at a memorial for a crashed American plane and watched a tractor trundle past with 2 kids and their dad at the wheel. Their ubiqutous border collie ran alongside, jinking about in that lovble, stupid way that no other breed can manage. Such a beautiful image. There was blue sky, little wind, mountains and sea in the near distance. I was listening to Bonnie Prince Billy, The Triffids, Smog and Richmond Fontain on my iPod... I treated myself to an icecream, a pint of shandy at the bar, a walk on the beach, and realised, that for the first time for a VERY long time, I was doing nothing with nothing to do. I loved it. I was on holiday...
If I don't get the chance to thank the guys at this hotel on the radio, and I really hope I do, they should all know. I'm not someone who relaxes easily. But they made it happen. I love it here...
Westport Co. Mayo tomorrow!
zzz
When I sloped into the hotel bar for breakfast, I was confronted with the tallbike, € notes taped all over it, and a photo of the women who'd had their hen night the night before clambering all over it.
Tony had the bile brought in and basically raised more money for me than anyone since the first night with Eily and Conor (hello guys... hope you're still coming to Dublin on the 9th).
I was so touched, genuinely. I walked into the restaurant to a small round of applause from the other guests and felt so, so humble. I really don't think what I'm doing is such a big deal. People do amazing things everyday, and I'm just on holiday, you know?
Still, I showed a few folk how to ride the bike, had kippers for breakfast which was a complete treat, got the Observer in the village - free book; The weather. Great!
Went for a short bike ride to Slayne Head which is the most western lighthouse in Eire, and you know what? After the day from hell, I loved riding a bike.
people smiled at me today, didn't take my photo without acknowledging me (I hate that. I can see why celebrities batter paparazzo, I can... I must have my picture taken 50+ times every day, and so few want to talk about what I'm doing or even smile).
Anyway, I've loved riding bikes since I learned on my cousin Debbie's Raleigh Chipper in Birmingham when I was a wee boy. I'm sure I always will. Excuse the schmaltz, but bikes have been such an important part of me sorting myself out after escaping from the Evil Empire this year, and I have so much to thank the guys at Cyclemagic for, even if they are too useless to send me my saddle to relieve the horrible saddle-sores!
Do it. Go for a bike ride. Or escape the Evil Empire. Both will be good for your soul, if not your bank balance...
Anyway, I sat at a memorial for a crashed American plane and watched a tractor trundle past with 2 kids and their dad at the wheel. Their ubiqutous border collie ran alongside, jinking about in that lovble, stupid way that no other breed can manage. Such a beautiful image. There was blue sky, little wind, mountains and sea in the near distance. I was listening to Bonnie Prince Billy, The Triffids, Smog and Richmond Fontain on my iPod... I treated myself to an icecream, a pint of shandy at the bar, a walk on the beach, and realised, that for the first time for a VERY long time, I was doing nothing with nothing to do. I loved it. I was on holiday...
If I don't get the chance to thank the guys at this hotel on the radio, and I really hope I do, they should all know. I'm not someone who relaxes easily. But they made it happen. I love it here...
Westport Co. Mayo tomorrow!
zzz
Day 22. Oughterard - Mannin Bay. 42.2 miles, 5 hours 16
Right, if yesterday was tough, today was horrific. I'd been offered a night at Mannin Bay hotel by the owner Tony who heard me on the radio and I was desperate to get there.
After a week of hostels, some of which like Aille River are really lovely, I was really looking forward to a night where I wouldn't be woken by snorers, could use the bathroom at leisure, and bizarrely, the desire to watch tv, take my time and not worry about anyone else was eating at me.
So, about 40 miles, and I'd be there...
I know I'm moaning about the wind. A lot. But, it really is genuinely scary riding that thing in 40mph winds. Connemara is bleak and rugged, in the most beautiful way, but there is NOWHERE to hide when the wind blows a hailstorm accross your path.
A few times I climbed off. Once, I contemplated pitching my tent as I was so scared of the weather. More than once I screamed at the weather to leave me alone which I'm properly aware is as futile and vain as praying to an omniscient god.
How many sailors and mountaineers have died after pleading with the elements or their maker?
Anyway, I'm no Rannulph Fiennes, and I just had to tough it out. I did hit my lowest ebb and was nearly in tears at one point. Brutal, and not fun. And in some of the most gorgeous scenery I'd encountered. Shame.
My ears and face are wind-burned today, and I'd really had enough.
Roundstone, Ballnahinch and a river I passed were so gorgeous. The railway station that looked like it could have been transported from rural Victorian Britain that since being de-commisioned has become a home was so beautiful right next to a trout fishery...
I struggled into Ballyconneely in very bad sorts. Halfway through the trip but in a very bad mood. Fed up with impatient drivers but fully in agreement that I was a hazard, exhausted from the hardest days ride I've ever done, scared witless somany times, cold and wind-blown and really missing my bed, my kitchen, my son... Curry, the Criterion, and so many people...
Tony and his staff at the hotel, he says with no hint of exaggeration, made me feel so welcome immediately. Shown to a lovely room with a massive bed and a shower to myself and a tv set, I was left to clean and shave and when I came to the bar, Tony had poured me a Guinness. Too polite to turn down his hospitality, I tasted it.
Cliche number 1. In the world. Guinness is better over here. I had another. And a hams sandwich with home made crisps. Gorgeous. Tony and Joanne and Eleanor and Gabriel and Bernie and Noel, etc. I really, really thank you all very much for the stay here. I was ready to make a decision I'd always regret and quit.
After watching Men in Black on the sofa in my room, I slept like a log...
After a week of hostels, some of which like Aille River are really lovely, I was really looking forward to a night where I wouldn't be woken by snorers, could use the bathroom at leisure, and bizarrely, the desire to watch tv, take my time and not worry about anyone else was eating at me.
So, about 40 miles, and I'd be there...
I know I'm moaning about the wind. A lot. But, it really is genuinely scary riding that thing in 40mph winds. Connemara is bleak and rugged, in the most beautiful way, but there is NOWHERE to hide when the wind blows a hailstorm accross your path.
A few times I climbed off. Once, I contemplated pitching my tent as I was so scared of the weather. More than once I screamed at the weather to leave me alone which I'm properly aware is as futile and vain as praying to an omniscient god.
How many sailors and mountaineers have died after pleading with the elements or their maker?
Anyway, I'm no Rannulph Fiennes, and I just had to tough it out. I did hit my lowest ebb and was nearly in tears at one point. Brutal, and not fun. And in some of the most gorgeous scenery I'd encountered. Shame.
My ears and face are wind-burned today, and I'd really had enough.
Roundstone, Ballnahinch and a river I passed were so gorgeous. The railway station that looked like it could have been transported from rural Victorian Britain that since being de-commisioned has become a home was so beautiful right next to a trout fishery...
I struggled into Ballyconneely in very bad sorts. Halfway through the trip but in a very bad mood. Fed up with impatient drivers but fully in agreement that I was a hazard, exhausted from the hardest days ride I've ever done, scared witless somany times, cold and wind-blown and really missing my bed, my kitchen, my son... Curry, the Criterion, and so many people...
Tony and his staff at the hotel, he says with no hint of exaggeration, made me feel so welcome immediately. Shown to a lovely room with a massive bed and a shower to myself and a tv set, I was left to clean and shave and when I came to the bar, Tony had poured me a Guinness. Too polite to turn down his hospitality, I tasted it.
Cliche number 1. In the world. Guinness is better over here. I had another. And a hams sandwich with home made crisps. Gorgeous. Tony and Joanne and Eleanor and Gabriel and Bernie and Noel, etc. I really, really thank you all very much for the stay here. I was ready to make a decision I'd always regret and quit.
After watching Men in Black on the sofa in my room, I slept like a log...
Day 21 Galway - Oughterard 20.5 miles 2 hours 15
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.
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Day 20. Doolin - Galway. 47.2 Miles, 4 hours 33
Right. Day 19 was depressing. Wind, rain, mist, no view at Moher after a bus ride. The hostel was full of Germans and French and other people congratulating each other in pidgin English at how great the other nation's travellers are. Ahem.
I want to meet Irish folk on this trip, predominantly. Spare me from back-packers and other planet-destroyers. Guess I'm not too diferrent in that I'm a tourist, and there ain't no getting around getting round, etc, but I left Doolin bored of tourists. Seriously. I did not hear one Irish voice on my side of the bar last night. How sad. Kerry wasn't like that. I know I'm practically as English as anyone, but 15 miles from my mother's birthplace, I felt a long way from home...
In a flat mood, I set off towards Galway, after tossing up the advantages of getting a a ferry to the Arran Island and then over to Galway. I decided to head inland a little and see some of the Burren and hope the wind wasn't so bad inland. I've heard that wind has driven sailors mad in the past. I can see why. Relentless hard work and fear will mess with anyone's mind...
Anyway. I had the 4 seasons in one day thing today, and I think my plan to avoid the coast a little was a good one. There's no point in photographing the Burren. it's just too odd and has to be seen to be believed...
Anyhow... I had a first today. Graham calls a road in Scotland the Electric Brae. It looks like you're going up hill, but you're going down. I had a similar thing. The wind blew me uphill. Bizarre. I stopped pedalling, and freewheeled up hill for 100 metres. Hmmm.
Galway. one-way systems, exciting, pretty, and no place to be alone. Also full of back-packers...
Oh, I'm in Connacht! Only Ulster and back into Leinster and I'm done. It'll take me 3 weeks...
I want to meet Irish folk on this trip, predominantly. Spare me from back-packers and other planet-destroyers. Guess I'm not too diferrent in that I'm a tourist, and there ain't no getting around getting round, etc, but I left Doolin bored of tourists. Seriously. I did not hear one Irish voice on my side of the bar last night. How sad. Kerry wasn't like that. I know I'm practically as English as anyone, but 15 miles from my mother's birthplace, I felt a long way from home...
In a flat mood, I set off towards Galway, after tossing up the advantages of getting a a ferry to the Arran Island and then over to Galway. I decided to head inland a little and see some of the Burren and hope the wind wasn't so bad inland. I've heard that wind has driven sailors mad in the past. I can see why. Relentless hard work and fear will mess with anyone's mind...
Anyway. I had the 4 seasons in one day thing today, and I think my plan to avoid the coast a little was a good one. There's no point in photographing the Burren. it's just too odd and has to be seen to be believed...
Anyhow... I had a first today. Graham calls a road in Scotland the Electric Brae. It looks like you're going up hill, but you're going down. I had a similar thing. The wind blew me uphill. Bizarre. I stopped pedalling, and freewheeled up hill for 100 metres. Hmmm.
Galway. one-way systems, exciting, pretty, and no place to be alone. Also full of back-packers...
Oh, I'm in Connacht! Only Ulster and back into Leinster and I'm done. It'll take me 3 weeks...
Tuesday, 15 May 2007
Day 18. Kilrush - Doolin 50.9 miles, 5 hours 31
More wind, rain and big hills. Terrible food at Doonbeg, but a really nice hostel in Doolin. Knee pain re-occuring. pants. Nearly halfway round! Oi, Cyclemagic. How come my saddle hasn't shown up in Clare yet! Too late now. Rode straight past the cliffs of Moher. too knackered to be a tourist. Maybe tomorrow!
More to follow, oh I should be on Ray D'Arcy's show tomorrow... Look at me. I'm almost as much of a media whore as that lazy, self publicizing fella with the fridge. Hey, Tony Hawks. I bet you one Euro you wouldn't ride the tallbike for one day...
Hmm. that was a tough day. hills, wind and rain. Crap cafe for lunch and not much human contact...
Found the Aille River hostel as instructed by Pauline & John who I met in Kenmare (hello) and the owner gave me 2 free nights and €20, too! thanks Robert. Good name that! Needed the rest. But rest messes with my mind. Inertia is at once my best friend and worst enemy on this trip... When I'm moving, I want to keep going. when I rest, I want to quit. Seriously. This trip is very tough. It's like riding a tandem with the passenger not pedalling... Hmmm.
The food at McDermott's in Doolin was marvellous both nights, especially the beef in Guinness stew. But, without wanting to be disingenuous... I don't like Clare much. I was the nearest thing to a local in Doolin. Americans, germans and French. So much for the real Ireland.
More to follow, oh I should be on Ray D'Arcy's show tomorrow... Look at me. I'm almost as much of a media whore as that lazy, self publicizing fella with the fridge. Hey, Tony Hawks. I bet you one Euro you wouldn't ride the tallbike for one day...
Hmm. that was a tough day. hills, wind and rain. Crap cafe for lunch and not much human contact...
Found the Aille River hostel as instructed by Pauline & John who I met in Kenmare (hello) and the owner gave me 2 free nights and €20, too! thanks Robert. Good name that! Needed the rest. But rest messes with my mind. Inertia is at once my best friend and worst enemy on this trip... When I'm moving, I want to keep going. when I rest, I want to quit. Seriously. This trip is very tough. It's like riding a tandem with the passenger not pedalling... Hmmm.
The food at McDermott's in Doolin was marvellous both nights, especially the beef in Guinness stew. But, without wanting to be disingenuous... I don't like Clare much. I was the nearest thing to a local in Doolin. Americans, germans and French. So much for the real Ireland.
Day 17. Parteen - Kilrush 50.5 miles 5 hours 3 mins
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!
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!
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