Month: September 2015

I spent the night alone in the completely deserted hostel – vaguely disturbing. I awoke to a silent hostel, breakfast food sitting forlornly on the table. As I left, the junior staff member cycled up to clean the hostel, and I cycled away.

By 10:00 am I cycled with the wind at my back, and a beautiful sunny day. I passed a typical Norman church ruin, and stopped for some photos. I find the Norman churches more interesting than the Gothic cathedrals; Gothic cathedrals feel more symbols of wealth and power than places of worship.

By 11:00 pm the sky blustered grey. I stopped to check my position on the GPS, and realized I could check the weather radar. (In my defense, I haven’t had cell service until Galway, and I’ve been under the weather since then). Radar showed an incoming storm, with me cutting across the middle of its path. A light mist-like rain began to fall, with dark clouds to my left, yet I could see blue skies ahead. A mad dash followed. I stopped once, only 4 km short of my destination, to let a brief band of rain pass, and then finished the ride at the hostel in Westport still dry.

Reception didn’t open until 3:30 pm. I sat in the hostel kitchen waiting for the rain to pass, when a staff member noticed me and and checked me in. The Old Mill Hostel rests inside an old mill, with walls of mortared stone providing a great atmosphere. In town I picked up more cold meds, and wandered. I walked to the local castle, the Westport House, located inside a local amusement park area, with paintball, a flume ride, and other associated modes of entertainment, all closed.

A statue of Grace O’Malley, a famous 16th century pirate queen, stands on the grounds, as a relation of the family that now owns Westport House. 

As I couldn’t tell from the Irish Rail website how bicycles work, I walked to the nearby train station. The station information didn’t open for a couple of hours (when the next train would arrive) but from the posted URL  I found the information I needed: bikes are permitted on all Irish trains, but add 6 euro, and they recommend you reserve the space in advance. Visiting a Tesco (supermarket) on the way back, I updated my supplies. Walking back to the hostel a passing rainstorm caught me unawares, and came close to soaking me before I found shelter.

Back at the hostel, I met Dennis, hiking around Ireland (with occasional train relocation) for the last seven weeks, an indefinite finish date, and 50 km day hikes making me feel a bit less superior to hikers. He cooked dinner while I surfed the Internet, and offered to share, as he couldn’t buy small enough quantities for only one person. He created something from chicken, pineapple, and apples, and a sauce which added slightly more heat than either of us expected. 

After dinner we spent a long time discussing where each of us headed next. I don’t like my plan of the next leg as a train to Dublin, but in coming to Westport the next hostel falls 130 km away in Sligo. Given how tiring I found racing the rain today, farther than I wish to go. The places Dennis wishes to visit in Ireland all fall outside of a direct path to Westport, so he needed to figure out the best way from here to there as well. To continue my trip now involves planning for my flight, and associated time to ensure I have a way to get my bike on that plane. At the same time, to directly close the loop back to Dublin requires passing through more central Ireland with fewer hostel options. I’ve made that journey before, and would prefer something different.

By the end of our discussion, Dennis heads to Inishmore, passing through Galway. I decided to continue towards Belfast. No train heads directly from Westport to Sligo, and any layover takes most of the day. However, I can take a short train ride tomorrow to reduce the distance to Sligo from 130 km to 70 km, a compromise between my desire to cycle, and (hopefully) not overextending myself.

I began my day chatting with Kathleen (the German woman from last night) over breakfast, and then back in the room we added the motorcyclist (who we will refer to as Franz, although I never caught his name) to the fray. In pondering my future route,  Kathleen suggested I grab a train/bus to Dublin, and then play a more conventional tourist until I felt better. I sometimes have a hard time breaking out of cycle tourer mode, and I welcomed the suggestion.

That left only the decision of how to get from here to a transport hub. Clairemorris, Galway, and Westport all rest about 40 km from here, both close and far away. Kathleen suggested and discarded giving me a ride, as her small rental car doesn’t lend itself to moving a bike. At that point I had mostly decided to stay in Cong for the day, but Franz decided to continue to help. He approached the couple from the Netherlands who had a bike rack on their car about giving me a ride.  They clearly had reservations about that plan, and it took me a while to untangle things with my plan of resting for the day.

Franz headed to Westport. Given the weather, Kathleen decided to abandon her plan of hiking today to visit friends. During that discussion we woke Bruno, our fourth roommate (at 10:00 am so I didn’t feel all that bad).

I then spent most of the morning and early afternoon hanging out with Bruno, while rains fell. Bruno started working at Ashford Castle last week, and uses the hostel as a base while straightening out his living situation. Bruno lived with his father in Westport before starting work in Cong, but originally hails from Argentina. He plans to travel the globe, working when necessary in high-end hotels to earn money. We spent much of the day talking about geo-politics and perceptions of the US and other countries before he finally had to head to work.

From Bruno I learned that Ashford Castle was a medieval castle that has been expanded and turned into a five star (and very expensive) luxury hotel and golf course, with only the grounds open to tourists. In a light rain I walked with him to work, which as he suspected meant I avoided the entrance fee to the grounds – very kind of him. 

From there I cycled into Cong, picking up supplies and seeing what else I might have missed the day before. On the way back to the hostel I followed a sign to a cave, but a huge lock presented itself on the door to the cave, stopping myself and two other cyclists I met. They asked where I had started cycling, and did not expect an answer of “Istanbul”. They commented I’d cycled across Europe, and I had not thought of this trip that way, more by day and country.

After that I returned to the hostel, and after that long tiring day, I took a nap. While lying in bed I could feel my heart pounding, and took my pulse – 48. Given that my pulse normally falls in the 60-70 range, apparently cycling changed a few things.

I generally prepare a very basic fare when cycling, but tonight I stepped things up a bit (which for me means actually cooking beef and pasta sauce), which at least went better than last night. I had to throw some of it away; too much food!

Given the possible destinations, and weather-dependent, I plan to make the 40 km ride tomorrow to Westport, having confirmed availability at the hostel. I hope to cycle with the wind, and maintain any dry window I find. The morning forecast looks good, although the afternoon forecast for “widespread through the afternoon with a few turning heavy or possibly thundery” bears careful consideration. Bruno provided a lot of advice on how to get in and around Westport, and on the train from there to Dublin. He also mentioned the castle in Westport, reportedly one of the most beautiful historic houses in Ireland.

At this point almost everyone around me has a cold, so doom clearly approached one way or the other. Holiday season apparently runs directly into cold season in more ways than one.

Two hours after I left the hostel, Clifden sat only 2 km behind me.

The Clifden hostel caters primarily to backpackers, so the room smelled much of wet gear. I went to bed by 9:00 pm, waking during the night to take more cold medication. I even slept through my 7:00 am alarm, much (I’m sure) to the joy of those sharing the room.

Connemara includes the local equivalent of the Ring of Kerry – Sky Drive. Sky Drive wends its way around the peninsula, and comes highly recommended. On a previous trip I cycled the Ring of Kerry, and found myself inspired as much by the heavy traffic as the scenery. Nonetheless, I decided to give Sky Drive a go.

Sitting along Sky Drive rests the road to Clifden Castle. A sign on the road to Clifden Castle indicates no cars, and no dogs, both not usual on a passage into the hills. The locals don’t need a lot of traffic, the road tends to be poor, and dogs bother the local livestock. As a cyclist I tend to ignore those signs, and cycle on. In this case I discovered the road to Clifden Castle to be the worst road encountered the entire trip. After the first few hundred meters, a ravine wends its way down the center of the steep road, requiring me to occasionally pick up my bike and jump to the other side of the road to progress. A hundred meters before the castle the road degenerated into deep muck, at which point I left the bike by the side of the road to wander through the castle. Not feeling well and the trek down the ravine likely contributed to not being impressed by the castle, the interior in ruin.

The road continues past the castle back to the road (per the GPS), and improved, so I trudged back to my bike, and slogged through the mud with the bike. After 100 meters, the road turned uphill (as expected), and 200 meters later ended at a barricade, clearly posted to not proceed (not as expected). I reversed course, and returned to Sky Drive, the wheels, brakes, and a fair amount of myself caked in mud. After using half the water I carry to clear up the wheels and brakes, I moved on. I took a few pictures, but I didn’t find the scenery any more inspiring that that of much of the rest of Ireland. The other end of the Sky Drive loop ends only 2 km outside of Clifden where I started my day.

The remainder of the day I spent cycling through the hills of Connemara and around Connemara National Park. Surprised by level roads, the hills rose around me all day, with long lines of stone walls dividing up the seemingly impassable terrain.

I passed my two alternate stop points to continue to Cong. Just outside of my destination of Cong I passed Castle Kirk, not readily accessible resting on a small island in Lough Carrib.

Cong focusses on only one thing – “The Quiet Man”. The ruins of Cong Abbey also rest near town, but clearly serve only as an aside to those here in reference to the movie. Every shop in town, every bar, derives its name or function from the movie. You can sign up for a tour of all of the film locations. A statue near the center of town serves tribute to the movie.

Clearly not fully mentally alert, while adding vegetable oil to my pasta I managed to not add insect repellent; instead I added dish washing detergent. On my second try for dinner, I poured my chicken soup over the edge of the pot, bringing the soot on the side of the pot with the soup. During my carbon-flavored dinner I spoke briefly with a woman from Germany hiking parts of Ireland, and a German motorcyclist, visiting the area.

The hostel/campground/B&B here shows “The Quiet Man” every night in their small theater, except for when I was here 11 years ago, when the World Cup took priority. I watched the movie along with the German motorcyclist and a couple here from the Netherlands, none of whom appreciated it.

A dire forecast for tomorrow (showers with period of heavy rain), and my general sense of poor well-being, prompt me to remain here in Cong tomorrow. Ashford Castle sits down the road, and I might visit it tomorrow if dry enough. I can manage a quick nearby unloaded trip even in moderate rain and stay dry.  

Definitely sick, prompting a pharmacy visit. Pharmacies all over Europe have a large green blinking “+” sign outside, making them easy to find. Brand names differing in Ireland, the pharmacist picked out several medications for me. That complete, I headed out of Galway.

I pondered whether to take the coastal or mountain route across Connomara towards Clifden, and then remembered the mountain route passed by Auglinaire Castle, my entire reason for cycling to Connemara.

On the small road just outside of Auglinaire Castle, an older gentleman driving by stopped next to me and rolled down his window, so I stopped. Besides the usual questions from the FAQ, I learned most of his life history, with him having spent much of his life  living in New York, but also owning a house here in Ireland. He also offered me a place to shower and wash up should I need it, a very generous offer. At that point, only 20 km outside of Galway, I graciously declined, but if I regularly wild camped the offer could have been timely. He also provided some navigational tips on how to get to Oughterard once I visited Auglinaire Castle.

Auglinaire Castle sits just outside of Oughterard as a example of the classic Irish tower castle. Unfortunately they did not permit tours inside the tower today, but no charge for wandering about the outside. I wish I’d been able to tour inside; they located the door on the ground floor, and I couldn’t find any sign on the exterior of the location of the original door on the second floor, the normal location.

During our honeymoon Marnie and I passed by Connemara because the contours on our map indicated significant mountains. With a better map, and now having cycled across from Galway to Clifden, the main roads run through the valleys, with no major elevation changes. With a limited shoulder, and traffic limits of 100 kph, I would have traded some room on the road for some elevation. With the continuing dark grey days of Ireland, I appreciate the gift of the neon yellow vest all the more.

The head cold leaves me with less energy, so I took my time. When I arrived at my next potential stopping point (the next hostel), 60 km from Galway, I decided to press on to Clifden. The winds turned, clouds darkened, the road began to climb, and I pondered the wisdom of that choice. Fortunately those circumstances didn’t last long, and I arrived in Clifden by 4:00 pm, plenty of time to go by Tourist Information should I need assistance. The hostel host maintains the registry with paper and whiteout, but after some pondering he decided he had a bed available. I spent part of the early evening working on the upcoming routes. I’m still working to reacquire the habit of planning my route every day, made more complicated by carefully laying out routes with a fallback plan. 

Even run down a bit, until the end of the day I managed a slow steady pace, so the same plan for tomorrow. I have a hostel at the 30 km and 50 km point before pushing back over to Cong, the filming location for John Wayne’s “The Quiet Man”. The forecast tomorrow calls for warm weather and sun, without indicating any rain at all – highly unusual.

Uggh, someone in my room in the hostel brought a cold. Hosteling brings with it the risk of contagion; colds spread through hostels like a convention. I have a scratchy throat now, one way or the other it’s all in my head, but I don’t feel well. I’ve caught a cold on other trips; my second trip to England I caught a cold from someone I met the first night.

I asked at Information for an EirCom office (to fix the SIM in my phone), and they found an office in one of the Galway suburbs, 15 min away by cab -too far. Walking around the inner city pedestrian district, I found an office about three blocks from the hostel. The cell phone initially failed to pick up the configuration, and they resolved the issue in short order.

After my phone update, I wandered in and out of a number of shops before heading to the local cathedral. The cathedral didn’t begin construction until after WWII, but I found it interesting to see what a cathedral can look like when effectively brand-new.

Navigating my way back after visiting the church I noticed a theatre on the map, and stopped there to find something interesting to do this evening. Tonight they had a one-man show, “The Man in the Woman’s Shoes”, performed by Mikel Murphi. The brochure reported (unsurprisingly) rave reviews, and I purchased a ticket.

Returning to the hostel, I hung the tent fly up to dry in the en-suite shower, and draped the tent around the room. I used that time to email hostels en-route to confirm they remain open, and check general availability. I spent part of today trying to solve what I refer to as the “travelling cyclist problem”. Not only must I plan short and long routes each day, but what happens several days out when I change my destination on the fly, or a destination fails to exist. One hostel closes the day after I cycle through; timing issues never dealt with before due to off-season.

Mikel Murphi put on the most brilliant, amazing, stunning performance I’ve experienced. The play both simple and complex, serious and hilarious, I could see elements of John Lithgow and Robin Williams in the performance, as well as characterizations clearly Mikel’s own. A fun evening.

I turned all of my laundry over to the hostel tonight. I have washed everything only by hand for a very long time, and everything desperately needs a machine wash. All of my laundry – currently typing while wearing my rain pants and jacket.

30 km from the hostel, I cycle tomorrow to one of the few calendar-worthy castles in Ireland I haven’t visited. Then weather (which I might be under) determines how far after that.

Temps last night dropped down to 5 C, which empirical testing shows as just barely colder than my gears’ designs. The low temps and clear sky covered everything in heavy condensation. The cold wet morning lead to a slow departure, and even so I packed the tent soaked, which I need to resolve.

I thought I visited Athlone on an earlier trip, but I don’t remember the castle. I wish I did, because I would have skipped it. Multiple multimedia displays fill the fully-modern interior, covering a variety of topics that don’t interest me. I did, however, manage to capture Athlone Castle with two days of food left and losing only 100 of my men.

In Ireland, ruins litter the countryside. Before my first cycle tour in Ireland, I once saw a grand total of three castles in a day. On my third day ever in Ireland, I cycled past and/or visited 16. At one point 3,500 tower castles covered Ireland, particularly the south east, providing much opportunity to explore. I came across this tower castle today by the side of the road, the interior filled with rubble and trash, the interior destroyed by fire.

Today I needed to cover a lot of ground quickly. I didn’t leave the castle in Athlone until 11:30 am, which meant 100+ km in six to seven hours, with potential delays for dodging rain. I made good time, entering Athenry around 3:30 pm. I came across the old priory, and I also visited the castle there (which I have definitely been to before, and worth seeing the second time).   

Hey, I’m cold, damp, tired, and concerned about rain, but I’m not dead.

From Athlone I had only another 25 km to Galway. Donal scared the daylights out of me as I entered Galway. He cycle commutes to work, and silently pulled up next to me to ask about my travels, providing the opportunity to talk for a few kilometers. He’s done some cycling in the north of Ireland, but my starting in Istanbul took him somewhat aback.

In some ways the trip amazes me too. On the other hand, I just travel one day at a time; each day follows the next. Despite everything, while I feel experienced, I don’t feel like an expert. I’ve met far too many people this trip doing the same thing, with far less experience, who have come up with far better planning and solutions for problems than I.

Last night I selected the  hostel for tonight, the top-ranked hostel in Ireland for 2014. As usual, I didn’t have a reservation (but much more conservative than usual, with slight odds of this and the other six or so hostels in Galway all being full on a Wednesday). With friendly people at reception, I settled in. I went out to dinner with a group organized by the hostel, and afterwords went to a local pub for authentic tourist Irish music.

I reserved the bed for two nights, so as to wander around Galway tomorrow. My knee aches, a likely combination of the cold and pushing for speed, so I welcome the break. I picked up a power adaptor today when I passed an electronics store, so no worries there. Hopefully I can find an EirCom store to fix my non-working cell plan. I look forward to plotting my course through Connemara (and back to Dublin); I certainly carry enough maps at this point. So far I’ve managed to avoid major incident from cycling on the wrong side of the road

I just barely crossed the 2,000 mark on the (reset) odometer today.

I did my best to get the tent dry this morning. The tent remains waterproof, but packing the tent wet lends to the dampness spreading to the interior. Fortunately a good breeze this evening helped dry everything out. Once the tent fly dried out I unpacked my bike to the tent.

Weather continues to challenge me. While I repeatedly put rain gear on only to take it back off, I managed to get through the day without soaking my shoes. For a while I chased a storm; I could tell when I crossed the threshold because the temperature would drop, the winds would change,  and, of course, rain would follow, but light enough that I could wait out the rain by ducking under a tree or into a gas station. Weather should improve slightly tomorrow, so the ride to Galway should be similar or better than today.

I spent most of the day on major roads, making the trip slightly longer distance-wise than the GPS predicted, but providing the ability to predict how long things would take, and requiring fewer navigation checks (harder in the rain). The major roads generally have a shoulder to cycle on. The next two tiers of roads not only do not have a shoulder, but on smaller roads the hedges have grown into the roadway, providing even less room.

I first visited the the Rock of Dunamase, which lays crumpled, like giants ripped the walls asunder. Large blocks of former walls litter the ground inside and outside of the keep. Dunamase stood on a rock promontory, with three sides being steep drops. As the campground host pointed out, Dunamase can’t compare to Cashel, but i could still pick out the former structure.  

After Dunamase, I had a 30 km cycle to Tullamore, designated as my abort stop should I be soaking wet. While I first started encountering rain just outside of Tullamore, careful time and space management let me make the final run up to Athlone dry, with no further rain this evening.

I think I have visited Athlone before, but plan on heading to the castle in the morning before the ride to Galway.

Silence woke me this morning. As I lay in my tent, muzzy from the morning, thinking that perhaps the weather today would permit me to cycle, rain started to fall. While the weather occasionally slowed to a light drizzle, or even provided temptation with a brief respite, I stayed put. With the campground 4 km outside of town I pondered heading into town to see the sights, but an Internet search left me untempted.

Instead, I spent the day inside the campground community room, reading. I spent a while quite chill, before I brought in my sleeping bag and spent the rest of the day curled up within on a couch.

It was Cork that taught me about being trapped by rain. Three days of heavy, sheeting rain left me seeking out things to do. I got to know my fellow campers, Polish men who came to Ireland because of a better economy and more jobs. I caught up on the summer blockbusters at the local movie theater. I cycled through a local nature park with the water on the trails over the rims of my bike. I also met Ed in the local wilderness preserve, an English cyclist who cycled in Ireland every year. We travelled in opposite directions, yet I still encountered him not once but twice more as I cycled around Ireland.

I generally hate doing nothing. After so long on the move, staying still becomes that much harder. Resting in a common room all day, when on a bicycle touring trip in Europe, only exacerbates that feeling. But, once I burrowed into my sleeping bag, the day turned out ok.

Temps are dropping to 5-7 degrees C at night, and only rising to the mid-teens during the day (37-68 degrees F). The rain gear works, but I clearly don’t want to get my core soaked, and cycling in wet shoes and gloves doesn’t exactly lend itself to being called fun.

I know I’m headed somewhere tomorrow, if only because, even though I picked up extra food yesterday on this possibility, I run out of calories, having but a tube of Oreos, a couple of slices of bread, a half-jar of peanut butter and jelly, and a can of beans.

Forecasts show better weather the next couple of days, so despite earlier predictions I plan to make two 100 km jumps to arrive in Galway. Multiple hostels in Galway give me some breathing room over camping. Maybe some day trips into Connemara, then heading north towards a slightly drier standard.

I woke to rain. As a general policy I don’t cycle out in rain; I took my time getting up, and chatted with two German backpackers. I talked with one of them last night. They’re hiking and then taking a train or bus to another area of Ireland for more hiking. I also talked with an English woman last night, camping while she hunts for a house. In both case I was hanging out in the common shelter area of the campground, a facility lacking in other countries, and welcome in Ireland, both from the opportunity to meet people, and a dry place to hang out during inclement weather. The English woman actually relocated there to sleep the night before when her tent failed in extreme rain.

As the rain abated, I moved my tent onto the porch of the shelter to pack from a dry location, with the two German guys doing the same thing. When the rain finally stopped I headed out, almost immediately greeted by a slow mist. I received a gift from the English woman last night – one of those neon yellow safety vests. I normally don’t worry about such things, but after the dark day and mists I felt grateful for the offer. 

Within 15 minutes mist converted to driving rain, and by the time I reached Eniscorthy I had enough. I waited in the alcove of a closed store waiting for the castle to open, and when I found the reception served also as the local Tourist Information, I asked about accommodation. As we worked our way through limited options (with a music festival in town), the sky cleared. Only one hotel offered rooms, at $90/night. Given that the forecast for tomorrow looked wet, I had hoped to find a place I could potentially setting for a couple of days, but unhappy with that price, the sky clearing and the rain stopped, I headed on.

As I made the next turn for Rathdrum, everything suddenly became cold and hilly. I realized a few things: the road headed into rolling hills; my new path turned away from my tailwind; I didn’t have any particular reason to head to Rathdrum, a small town also poor to hunker down in for bad weather tomorrow.  Reviewing the map, from where I stood the distance to my planned destination tomorrow, and my destination today, matched, except my destination tomorrow fell directly in-line with the tailwind. Following the tailwind also let me follow the weather, staying in the clear (dry) spot, a trick I learned from previous trips to Ireland. The remainder of the day storm clouds lay ahead, and sun and blue skies lay behind, giving me the chance to enjoy the day. I pulled into the campground near Athy under sunny skies.

The exceedingly friendly camp host then spent the next hour asking me about US politics. Deftly dodging those on abortion, and avoiding gay marriage, I enjoyed talking to him. I’ve had discussions with four different sets of people in the last couple of days. It’s refreshing to have returned to an friendly English-speaking baseline.

I’m taking a path across the center of Ireland because I haven’t been this way before. Of course, I now know why – few campgrounds and hostels exist in the center of Ireland, with big gaps between them. Normally not an issue, I have less time to cycle (and thus more limits on distance) if I stop to avoid rain, which looks to be a regular occurrence in the upcoming forecasts.

Tomorrow I will want to see what the weather brings before I depart. I’m in no hurry.  

When I bought the ticket for the ferry, I paid an extra five euro for a reclining seat and a better night’s sleep, but that room sat right over the engines (loud) with the seats jammed together. I ended up moving out into the main area and sleeping on one of the random couches used for seating. I woke repeatedly thinking we must be suffering a severe storm, with the rocking of the ship. I arose to a clear sunny day, with the ship still bouncing up and down. Movement settled down by 8:00 am; I think they slow the ship down a bit when people are moving about. We arrived in Ireland at 1:15 pm.

Expecting rain, I planned to head to the nearby campground and figure out my next course of action. I first headed to the Tourist Information in Rosslare, only to find that information point had only a few pamphlets. With a gorgeous day, and Wexford only 20 km away, I updated my agenda.

The Tourist Information in Wexford took a long time, because the one woman working helped everyone in great detail. To that point, when I finally left I had: a map of Wexford, a general map of Ireland, a map of all IYH hostels in Ireland, a map of all independent hostels in Ireland, a booklet with all campgrounds in Ireland, brochures for different regions of Ireland, instructions on where I could get cell service, and a collection of brochures on different castles. She also confirmed the campground down the street did, in fact, exist.

From Tourist Information I headed to the center of town. I purchased a cell plan. I couldn’t get what I wanted (1 GB for 30 days), only because the minimum plan of 10 euro provides 7.5 GB. Across the street a bookstore sold me detailed road maps of Ireland. Now fully supplied, I headed to the campground.
  
While the bathhouse at the campground  includes standard European power outlets, the default power outlet in Ireland differs, so I need to pick up another adaptor. The last time I visited Ireland in 2006 I didn’t carry any electronic devices.

While I have a routine of things every day, the days themselves do not feel routine. I’m camped on the coast of Ireland!

As I type, rain falls on my tent. Welcome to Ireland.