Month: September 2015

With everything boxed, and a taxi/van reserved at 8:00 am to get me to the airport four hours before my flight, I headed to bed. I slept horribly, waking every hour or so,

Is it time?

finally giving up on sleep and climbing into the shower at 6:15 am. At 7:30 am a taxi/van arrived, looking for someone else. Confusion ensued; the cab company sent a van for someone else at 7:30 and intended a cab for me at 8:00 am. Resolving that to everyone’s satisfaction meant still meant I left for the airport earlier than planned.

The taxi driver dropped me at Terminal 1, because construction blocks access to Terminal 2, providing the opportunity to wander through the airport dragging a large box while finding my way to the other terminal. After that I waited for check-in to open. First in line, my bicycle box passed through with no issues, and they forgot to charge me the bike shipping fee. Only one issue passing through security – the dental rinse. But a quick check to make sure it wouldn’t explode, and I proceeded. Yet more waiting (not unexpected), I  boarded. Time to fly home.

Unfortunately the AC on our plane did not actually provide AC. A short delay and the AC was fixed, and then broken again, and then deemed not fixable. At that point the airline decided we would fly a longer northern route (colder), which meant a longer flight, and another delay while we took on more fuel.

In my experience, international flights use large, modern planes. Video on the back of the headrest, audio jacks in the chair. I don’t know if we were on an older plane, or an even more modern plane without those features. Instead, I had the option to use WiFi to view in-flight movies on my mobile device, or  rent a tablet ($10) and headphones ($4) for in-flight entertainment. In-flight entertainments included mostly very old TV and movies; the two sitting next to me watched episodes of “The Love Boat”.

I try to schedule layovers for international flights for four hours, to help ensure both I and the bicycle make the transition. In this case I started with six hours. By the time we landed in Toronto, I had four hours left (two used up with the delayed flight). Landing in Toronto, I processed through US Customs. Flagged for an individual check at security, they then pulled me out of line at Customs, flagged my box to come off the plane, and walked me a very long distance away to  separate area, leaving me to sit. I pulled out my book.

I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned that I’ve played this game before. Coming back from my first tour, cycling from England to Italy and back, Customs reviewed my passport and asked why I’d been in the Netherlands for only four hours. My quick response of, “Because I cycled across it?”, while true, almost prompted a drug search.

After touring, I always check the “Have you been on a farm?” box. The first time I came back from Ireland, the customs officer asked, “Have you really been on a farm?” and was not amused with my response of, “I’ve been in Ireland, the entire country is a farm”. To his followup question of “But have you actually been on a farm?” I responded , “Does being chased across a field by cows count?”.

I expected the questions to focus on farm life, but the first questions were: “How long did you stay in Istanbul?” “Where did you stay in Istanbul?” “What’s in the box?”. Once the customs agent realized the box contained a bike, and I’d used the bike to move myself across Europe, he relaxed a bit. He told me I’d been flagged because of my time in Istanbul, as a gateway point, and sent me on my way.  Now with only two hours to catch my plane, I grabbed a meal.

I boarded the next flight, with a row all to myself. While I could have regretted the layover time, instead it provided a relaxing flight home, surrounded by people freaking out about their flight. I landed in RDU with my box already  waiting for me, found Marnie waiting for me, and we headed home to a poodle who wasn’t quite sure who I was for the first few minutes.

And so it ends. The weight of that, and how my life changes after that, still hasn’t sunk in. I still have photos to go through, an analysis of expenses, a few random blogs posts to make (“Top 10 Classic Mistakes”, “Top 10 Tricks”, “Brilliant life insights of some sort”, etc.), and upgrades and fixes to the website I didn’t want to tackle remotely, so I still can savor the experience for just a while longer.

Life feels like it’s suddenly moving very fast.

I crashed early last night.

The late night with Dominic caught up with me, and I fell asleep by 10:00 pm. I awoke early, and caught breakfast as the hostel started serving, at 7:00 am. I headed out to find an additional box, tape, and ideally a hardware store. The bike shop closest to the hostel didn’t open until 11:00 am. The hardware store I found didn’t open until 9:00 am. I carried on looking for tape. Along the way,  I stopped by one of the farther away bike stores offering a box today, but they didn’t have a box to offer. Tesco didn’t open until 9:00 am, but from them I stocked up on tape. Back at the hardware store on the way back to the hostel, I managed to find all the components of my fork protector (see June 10).

I still wanted a second box, but decided to have faith in the shop near the hostel. Lacking complete faith, if they failed me I could make do with one box. I headed out. Researching what to do today, I kept finding things in Dublin I didn’t want to do, and guided tours to castles in the surrounding area. Mapped out, the castles formed an arc around Dublin. I needed only to return to Dublin before the bike shops closed, both to make a final attempt at a box, and to have a bike shop remove the pedals (avoiding the panic situation – see June 10). I planned a semi-circular route to permit a direct short return to Dublin early if time ran out.

I haven’t biked unloaded for a while – an invigorating change. Ashford Castle sat in Phoenix Park in Dublin. Only available by guided tour, I caught the tour at 11:00 am as it started. Renovations on Ashford Castle only finished recently. They discovered the castle when knocking down an estate house built around it, and reconstructed it. They did a great job – simple.

I saw Dunsloughly Castle for the first time on my first visit to Ireland. It stands in a farmer’s field as a ruin. I wondered whether the castle might be more accessible many years later, and it sits between Ashford Castle and Swords Castle. Unfortunately, more restrictions exist on the castle than before; I could only get a few zoomed pictures at distance.

I could not remember whether I visited Swords Castle previously. The large sign out front proudly announced they opened the castle to visitors in June, 2015. Unfortunately I arrived just as the staff closed for lunch. I decided to wait until they re-opened, ate lunch, and wandered around Swords a bit. They have a long way to go on the castle renovations, so the site should continue to improve.

The staff (who also serve as Tourist Information) strongly recommended Malahide Castle, the next in the arc. They also gave me a brochure for Malahide Castle, a brochure for the nearby Ireland coast, and a map of the city of Howth, which also includes a castle. She also proceeded to explain in detail how to get to Malahide (even after I showed her the location on the GPS). Malahide served as a residence until the 1900s, so I knew the interior would be remodeled. The tour guide came from Spain; I found the accent for an Irish tour a bit distracting.

From Malahide, I had only a short ride to Howth Castle. Howth still serves as a private residence, so can only be viewed from the outside. Carefully checking the time, I headed to Howth, and still returned to the bike shop near the hostel by 5:45 pm. Just a good stretch of the legs.

The bike shop loosened my pedals, and indeed had a box. I returned to the hostel, box perched on my bike as I walked back. In comparing the two boxes, the second box paled in size to the first, about the same difference as the box from yesterday to the bike I originally brought to Istanbul. I settled in to pack.

Two hours later I finished packing. The smaller box forced me to remove the front racks and the front fender, and detach the front handlebars. I juggled equipment around between the box and panniers. I arranged a taxi/van for the morning. Everything all set, I wandered the streets listening to buskers and the music drifting out from the bars on my last night in Europe.

I spent a while hanging out in the hostel room with Eric, Jamie and Neill. Jamie and Neill drove up from Dublin, with plans to visit Belfast, and then camp near Giants’ Causeway. They invited me out to the bar they’d gone to the night before, and I decided to join them for a night of live Irish music. I failed to factor in that Jamie and Neill came from Dublin. We ended up at  Dirty McNasty’s, a bar down the street. The Irish don’t actually go to Irish music bars; they’re for tourists. Reportedly packed for the World Cup the night before, things were quiet, and we chatted, giving Jamie a hard time for bring single, while he blamed his wingmen. I stayed for a while, but headed back for a good night’s sleep.

I met Dominic over a bucket of chicken in the lobby of the hostel. Dominic left his life in San Francisco, on his second month of  traveling  the world for the next year. He’s never done any international travel before this extended trip, and I realized he hadn’t heard of Schengen. We discussed his itinerary in that context, and swapped stories back and forth until the wee hours of the morning.

Busses in Ireland carry bicycles, but the bike gets bumped if the bus doesn’t have room. I arrived at the station early, checked in, and waited. The bus website failed to mention the lack of room for bikes on this bus even when empty. When Mike, Marie, Marnie and I cycled in Ireland, we packed four fully-loaded bikes onto a bus. I struggled for 10 minutes to load mine onto this one. Unsure if I could get the bike back out, we were on our way to the airport.

I’d decided to take the bus directly to the airport to find out if they had a bike box, and check on any hidden criterion I might have missed.  No box, but I confirmed my flight, and adjusted my meals. The airline said any bike shop would gave boxes. I expressed reservations about small bike shop boxes, but they assured me that was not the case. I also found a company which could handle shipping the bike if I ran into extreme issues. They needed a box as well. Time to cycle into Dublin and find a box.

Dublin offers a variety of tours: the Whiskey Tour, a Ghost Tour, an Authors’ Pub Tour, the Irish Storytellers Tour, a historical walking tour, a Game of Thrones Tour. I spent the day going from bike shop to bike shop, an opportunity missed by the local tourist bureau.

The first bike shop offered a bike box tomorrow. I wanted to resolve the box issue today, and continued on. In total I visited six different bike shops, and at the end of the day had promises from two places for tomorrow, and a box in hand. One box resolves the crisis, but with a smaller box than my original at the start of the tour, I hoped to find a second box, either larger, or meld the two boxes together.

After that, I attempted to visit Tourist Information. They closed in mere moments, but I grabbed a few brochures of nightly activities. Failing to find anything that piqued my fancy, I headed back to the hostel for dinner. I forgot how zoo-like the larger hostels’ kitchen are; dinner took almost an hour to prepare.

Disorganized, bike lanes in Dublin switch back and forth from roadside, bus lane, sidewalk, and non-existent, yet  considerably improved since the last time I cycled here. One of the bike shops told me Ireland’s BikeToWork started five years ago; you can purchase a bike (and equipment) up to 1000 euro, and pay over a year’s time through payroll deduction, pre-tax. Given the tax rate in Ireland, you can save up to 52% on your purchase, and bike sakes skyrocketed.

Jamie and Neill could not have picked a better time for camping. With the warm sun-filled days, tomorrow could well include cycling if I can resolve all of the bike issues.  I still need tape.

Given the hostel in Belfast doesn’t serve breakfast, I had little motivation to rush about. I talked with Eric (one of my roommates) this morning, who planned to visit the Ulster Museum and Botanical Gardens. I asked if I could tag along, as he knew the way. Eric traveled here from England, and will be in Belfast for a few days, on the coast for a few days, and then head home. I learned from Eric today that while Northern Ireland uses the pound, they issue their own bank notes which only Northern Ireland honors.

The museum held a hodgepodge of small exhibits on Natural History, Modern Art, Costuming, Minerals, Jewelry, and Porcelain. The mineral display included a radiation lab kit for children to play with. I left in short order. I stopped by a nearby theatre looking for a show, but Sunday limits my choices.

After that I headed off to find the bus tour. As I walked back to the center of the city, two people approached me to pitch … the bus tour, from two different companies. One pitch included a trip to Belfast Castle, so I followed him back to their kiosk, and used the tour to deliver me to the castle. Belfast Castle includes a small garden outside, but the interior serves as a convention center you can rent out for parties and weddings. They also offer one more experience – can you see it in the picture?

I boarded the next tour bus that came through to finish the tour. The tour brought to the forefront the history of “The Troubles” in Northern Ireland. Fortifications surround the churches. Blast barriers still protect the police stations. Walls decorated with iron spikes still separate the sections of the town, with gates they still close every night. The city serves as a stark reminder of where the religious right wants to take America.

No cycling today and little cycling yesterday leaves my metabolism confused. I didn’t drink or eat anywhere near the usual volume or calorie level, and spent part of the day sugar-crashed before I figured that out.

While not maudlin, I ruminated on things I won’t miss:
-Wondering if I’m going to run out of water.
-Racing the rain to avoid getting cold and soaked.
-Hand-washing my laundry.
-Finding a supermarket every day.
-Wondering about my bike, alone somewhere.
-Not packing up my life every day.
-Hostelmates that snore.
-Mosquitoes buzzing in my ear. (Wait, I have that at home).
-Finding a missing ferry.

On second thought, all of those minor aggravations come with:
-Hiking the walls of Derry and Carcassonne.
-Sitting in the seat of a Roman amphitheatre(s).
-Surrounding myself with the hills of Connemara.
-Climbing into a communist space ship.
-Two Australians renting bikes to visit fortified churches.
-Camping next to the water (over and over).
-Clambering about innumerable castles.
-Bulgarians doing their damnedest to find me a map, and failing in their success.
-Visiting friends who never expected me to show up at their doorstep in Europe.
-Touring with a friend from America.
-Perseids while camping in the Swiss Alps.
-All the other kindred cyclists I met along the way.

And the trip’s not over yet. I reserved my ticket for the bus to Dublin tomorrow.

No one slept well last night.

The hostel assigned Featherdawn and Sophia to my room last night, so for once I knew my roommates. All three of us spent the evening drinking the free tea the hostel provided, and the tea contained more caffeine than any of us expected. I didn’t even go to bed until 1:00 am, and Sophia gave up on sleeping to take a shower at 2:00 am.

I knew I could sleep in, as they only serve breakfast from 9:00 am to 10:00 am. I planned for a slow day today, but the day decided not slow enough. The hostel provided a great breakfast, with each meal a custom order and individually prepared. Tasty, but with all the meals cooked by only one person, not a fast process.

Sophia and Featherdawn left before me, with the plan to hitch into Bushmills for groceries and whatnot. I passed them on my way into Bushmills, on the road where everyone headed towards the Giant’s Causeway, instead of into the city.

I enjoyed the Bushmills Whiskey tour. Unlike the Jameson tour from years ago, the tour runs through the actual production plant (where they also handle surplus Jameson bottling). Stunning that such a small facility produces the entire world supply of Bushmills. As a production plant, no handicapped access existed. If you use a walker or cane, you could not take this tour.

From the tour, a short ride brought me to Coleraine and the train to Belfast. I used the time on the train to make some changes to how the website and the blog work. Time passed quickly, and the next think I knew I arrived in Belfast, with the hostel just down the street. Unsurprisingly, the main hostel in Belfast is big and institutional, such a change from the small independent hostels after Galway.

I arrived early enough to get to Tourist Information. Someone at the last hostel highly recommended the city bus tour, but didn’t clarify whether she meant the “Belfast City Tour”, the “City Tour Belfast”, or the “City Sightseeing Belfast” tour. Belfast constructed the Titanic – the city “claim to fame”, along with “the Troubles”. I’m glad I didn’t plan two full days here.

The last few hostels provided Internet throughout the building, an advantage of small hostels. In Belfast not only must you sit in the lobby for Internet, but the sheer number of residents slams the performance. Usually I manage to meet someone in the communal kitchen or the common area, but no such luck tonight. Not surprisingly, many people are just on holiday for the weekend from Dublin. Occurs to me that not only am I not a fan of most big cities, I’m not a fan of big city hostels; I have more in common with the small city travellers.

While a few short rides remain, back and forth between trains and hostels, cycling effectively ended today – out of time. The last few days things have gone well, a much better note than my expectations of cold and rain. I don’t have the urge to turn around and ride back off into the wilderness, but I certainly feel a sense of loss.

The GPS indicates I cycled 234 km today.

I never have to worry about thinking that touring for four months makes me unique as I regularly meet people on a journey making mine but a brief jaunt. I met James at the hostel last night. Four years ago he retired, sold (or gave away) all of his possessions, and travels the world, ducking in and out of Europe based on Schengen time. He spends some of that time doing voluntourism with different organizations. 

Tourist Information yesterday didn’t know a route out of town, but gave me several maps. As a base plan I just followed the highway until I left town, and then veered onto smaller, more scenic road. Tourist agencies use “more scenic” because “many hills” does not have the same ring to it. Fortunately I have energy again, even if I used most of it today. I crossed a number of long steep hills, but I had great views of the coastline. 

Dunluce Caste partially fell into the sea in the 17th century, unsurprisingly causing the general abandonment of the property. They think a lot of their castle, as entry costs roughly $20. I wandered about the outside, but I’m not supporting that level of price-gouging. I learned from a fellow hostel resident a few days ago that the Giant’s Causeway costs money only if you choose the audio tour, although the signs hadn’t make that clear. A helpful tip, as the Giant’s Causeway has great scenery and I preferred to enjoy the day in silence.

I wondered exactly where to find the hostel for tonight as they provided limited directions, but passed the hostel on the way to the Giant’s Causeway. Two girls from the hostel last night, Featherdawn and Sophie, hitched to the Giant’s Causeway today, and also stay here tonight. Another nice hostel, with a view of the northern coast from the sun room.

Tomorrow I cycle back through Bushmills city, and likely take the Bushmills Distillery tour. I took the Jameson Whiskey distillery tour on my first tour in Ireland, and the impacts of that visit stretch forward to today. On that tour, I cycled up to the distillery as two tour buses arrived. The tour consisted of myself and folks in their 70s and 80s. In talking with them, they all saved money all their lives, and were now living the dream of touring in Europe. During the tour, their walkers and wheelchair constantly caused them to either detour or not visit parts of the plant. I realized I didn’t want to save money my entire life, to then travel after a normal retirement age in a disabled state. The whiskey tasting afterwards? Unrelated.

After visiting Bushmills, I will cycle 15 km to the rail line, and ride the train to Belfast. I have a reservation for a hostel in Belfast for two nights, and will make reservations in Dublin for the last two nights. Hopefully the airport has a box for the bike, and I can spend the remainder of my time touring Dublin.

As to the GPS? In bicycle mode the GPS refuses to let me cycle on a highway. In this case the only path the GPS would provide required cycling all the way back to Donegal, because the bridge today counted as a highway, and the next bridge sat on the other side.

I hate starting the day cycling into the rain. When camping it means packing a wet tent, but even from a hostel the day starts wet, and if/when the day goes downhill, I have no one but myself to blame. Even if I’m only cycling to a train or a bus, I have to deal with wet gear on the bus or train. 

Rain hammered my window this morning, but as I packed the rain ceased, the sun came out, and the sky turned a cerulean blue. The forecast shifted from thunder and hail to scattered showers with a 30-40 kph direct tailwind. More than once this trip I’ve unnecessarily ducked non-existent rain. I left for the 8:47 bus, and cycled past the bus station for the 67 km ride to Derry. I feel much better today; energy levels feel back to normal.

10 km outside of town I passed a sign showing 78 km to Derry.

What? Arg.

I saw my first Ireland rainbow for thus tour. I stopped to take a phone, and then remembered the cause of rainbows: sun and rain. I can tell when the rain will start: The sky greys over, the temperature drops significantly, a few drops of rain fall. Sometimes I can see the rain on the hill nearby. Most of the day, blue skies and sun surrounded me; when that changed I knew to hide. Rain fell four times on my ride to Derry, twice with serious intent. Dashing for shelter, I ducked the rain every time, taking advantage of: an abandoned farm building; a burnt out gas station; a gas station; and a bus stop. 

A steep downward hill preceded my descent into Derry, and only at the last moment did I narrowly avoid the brambles reaching out at head level,  successfully not veering into traffic, losing an eye, nor ripping my rain gear. As I cycled into town, it began to rain. I passed Tourist Information as the hostel displayed on my map. I arrived at the location for the hostel, and the building had a For Sale sign. Not good. I had pre-reserved the hostel, so I ducked under a tree and checked the confirmation email for the address. While at the right place on the GPS, the address in the email differed. Fortunately the hostel moved only around the corner, so a short ride later I checked in. The owners eclectically decorated the interior. One regret from the trip is not taking a photo of every place I stayed, if only to remind me as my memories fade. 

I walked to city center, and the medieval walls of Derry. As a walled city, buildings crowd into each other inside the walls. To gain more space, three department stores are built into the hill, three stories on one side, and one story on the other. While in town I visited Tourist Information, leaving with the usual stack of information, including information on Giants’ Causeway, potential cycle routes, and a nearby castle falling into the sea.

Tomorrow’s forecast calls for no rain, not even passing showers, and a tailwind to the Giant’s Causeway, so I’m looking forward to the ride, and might have the patience to trade time for traffic. I made a reservation at the hostel just outside the entrance to the park, so everything should be all set.

After that only four nights remain. From the Giant’s Causeway I have a two day ride to Belfast, and a three+ day ride to Dublin. I debated visiting Giants’ Causeway, and then riding directly on  to a train station to spend the night in Belfast, but instead decided to take my time. Trading cycling time for time in Belfast, Tourist Information provided train schedule information from nearby to Belfast; a train lets me spend most of the day in Belfast, instead of two days of cycling and no time in the city. If I find enough of interest, I’ll spend another day in Belfast before heading to Dublin.

I finally slept through the night, waking only when one of my roommates left early. I no longer struggle feeling the effects of the cold meds wearing off an hour before the next dose. My energy levels haven’t returned to normal, but at least I didn’t feel the need to collapse when I arrived this evening.

After breakfast I packed, waiting for the morning rain to stop. I refilled my water bottle, and during second breakfast talked with the German backpacker who decided to remain in Sligo for the day. The skies cleared by 10:30 am; I waited another half-hour for the weather to settle out and headed forth. A kilometer later I realized I’d left my water bottle behind, distracted by conversation.

Not losing anything else.

I returned to find the hostel door locked. With no one at reception, I decided I had time to wait, with only 70 km planned  today. While waiting, I spoke for a while with another guest, waiting to check in.  By noon I found myself back on the road, water bottle in hand.

The skies cleared, and I cycled much of the day with sunny weather and a tailwind. I’m cycling along the western coast on the Great Western Way, with the coastal mountains in the distance. No rain until 5 km outside of Donegal, where again I came close to getting soaked at the end of the day. I’m cycling shorter days but as the day cools off, showers strike.

I still love Tourist Information in Ireland. I stopped at Tourist Information in Donegal, and left with a local map of Donegal, the bus schedule to Derry, the city map for Derry, hostel information in Derry, and the location of ATMs in Derry; each of those documents came with hand-drawn circles and arrows for more information. Not only am I not in Derry, Derry is another country. Tourist Information in larger countries provides information for only their region; getting information cross-region helps a lot given that I often cross more than one region on any given day.

In the grand scheme of things, I should have turned east and not cycled to Donegal. The last time I cycled to Donegal, I had the same problem – running out of time. I need to cycle Ireland counter-clockwise next time. The last time I made a mad dash from Donegal back to Dublin, but in this case not only am I trying to cycle in Northern Ireland, but the hostel in Enniskillen ceased to exist. On the other hand, I also wanted to visit the city of Donegal again. While the old abbey was converted to a cemetery, Donegal Castle still stands as a great example of a tower castle.

Different hostels allocate guests by either loose-packing (not placing a second person in a room until all rooms are full) or tight-packing (filling each room before moving on to the next). Besides the more pleasant experience of  having one’s own room, that behavior often predicts the rest of the experience at that hostel. The hostel in Donegal follows the former practice, and the rest of the experience to match. Linda, one of the hostel owners, introduces everyone to each other as they come in, actively interacts with the guests, and makes sure everything goes OK for everyone. Everyone had their own room. 

Forecasts tomorrow call for thunder, rain (differentiated from “showers”), and hail. I had thought Donegal Castle only opened tomorrow, but Tourist Information corrected that perception. I planned to huddle here in Donegal tomorrow, but arrived in the city early enough to see everything. So, you know, new plan.

Getting from Donegal to Giants’ Causeway to Belfast to Dublin, losing a day for weather, and then who knows what, leaves little time in Belfast or Dublin. I only care about time in Dublin to ensure the bike comes home, but I would prefer not to rush through things at the end of the trip. Tomorrow during the bad weather I take a bus to Derry instead of sitting still. Weather for the weekend should be good, and regardless eastern Ireland suffers less rain. From Derry I can cycle to Giants’ Causeway, and then hopefully spend time in Belfast, before a train closing the final leg back to Dublin. Until the next plan.

I woke when the cold meds wore off, and could not go back to sleep. I decided to reserve the hostel in Enniskillen (my stop after Sligo), and then the train ticket for my partial jump to Sligo. I stayed in the hostel in Enniskillen during my trip in 2004, ideally located directly in-line towards the Giants’ Causeway and Belfast. While unsuccessfully trying to reserve the bed, I learned the IYH closed the hostel in Enniskillen in 2014, leaving a gap in my planned trek north and east. Some research and I adjusted my path to Donegal, then cutting back across to the same hostel planned after Enniskillen – solved.

No issues in purchasing the ticket on-line for myself and the bicycle. No issues picking up the ticket from the machine. No issues getting on the train. Loading my bike into the rack on the train I took a small chunk out of my thumb, but at least managed to not bleed completely over everything. Other than that, I spent an uneventful hour on the train to Castlerea, and covered 50 km. Somewhat depressing really, but the ride brought the distance to Sligo back inside of my comfort zone. Still felt like a long day of cycling; by the end I switched to a major highway to cut a few more kilometers off, and still took a nap after I arrived at the hostel.

I had lovely if cold weather today. I spent a while adjusting my layers to control for the headwind and 10 degree temperature without overheating, and stopping to eat presents challenges in controlling body temp, but I managed to find a good windbreak for lunch. Sunshine and white puffy clouds followed me the rest of the day, with the exception of a few light sprinkles just 3 km shy of Sligo. Really?

The changes in path should have adjusted my route back to where I hadn’t been before. When I took a slight detour to visit the ruin of Castle Ballymote two thoughts crossed my mind: “I’ve been here before”, and “I think this was closed last time too”. Grf.

The outskirts of Sligo presented the opportunity to visit a 17th century fortified manor house, but I passed. I had just climbed over the mountains to get to Sligo, and the weather threatened rain.

The Railway Hostel in Sligo shows on my GPS, but none of the hostel association maps. I had enough information to search for the hostel on-line and confirm via email that I had a place to stay. The owner welcomed me, and later in the evening provided a number of tips on places to visit and the path to Donegal. I had hoped to visit Parke’s Castle while in the area; one of the stairwells spirals in reverse because of the mostly left-handed family. One of my favorite castles in Ireland (indeed, I have a photo on my wall at home), but the castle closed for the season four days ago. 

I met a woman at the hostel tonight who sold off her life, and brought herself and two daughters to Ireland for three months, and then six months in southern Europe, and then three more in Ireland. She homeschools her girls, and thought to provide them a different experience. Awesome. While discussing hostels and places to stay, I found a hostel between Donegal and my planned hostel after Donegal as a mid-point bailing plan – perfect.

I’m struggling with planning the end of the trip. I cycled to Westport specifically for a  final train to Dublin, because the trip feels like the end, even with 10 days left. In some respects that’s true in the overall scheme of things, but 10 days can be an awesome vacation in Ireland, and bailing back to Dublin and managing the end of the trip from there seems like a waste. Travelling through Northern Ireland adds another country to learn, and another currency to exchange, and of course new things to see.

With cold and rainy weather, I continue to head north. At least I soon head east towards drier lands. So I’m moving on. I made the journey to Sligo with no issues, and I think I can do the same to Donegal. From there another two days brings me to the Giants’ Causeway in Northern Ireland, and another two to Belfast, leaving me three+ days in reserve for rain, Belfast, and to get to Dublin (either by train or bicycle), and resolve the great question of how I get the bicycle home.

Someone tonight suggested I sell my bicycle in Dublin instead of trying to get it home. I don’t think so.