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

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!

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.