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July 12 Wednesday rain sun rain sun rain wind rain rain Bicycle touring Ireland We coasted the remaining downhill on our fully loaded touring bicycles into Kenmare, Ireland. We bicycled route N70 to Sneem, Ireland, getting alternately rained on for ten minutes, then sunned for an equal length of time. Should I put on my rain jacket? Should I take off my rain jacket? It was going to be one of those days. Four and a half miles before Sneem, I pulled my bicycle to a halt under a tree to wait for Sharon to catch up. While I was waiting, the heavens really let 'er rip for a heavy downpour. Sharon, lucky bicyclist that she is, arrived a split second before the deluge. We decided we would look for a tea shop in Sneem and hopefully this saturated weather front would blow over. Sneem is the point the Ring of Kerry begins. Traffic has been steadily increasing, though it is not nearly bumper to bumper as some people have informed us the Ring of Kerry becomes in the summer. There are lots of blind corners, which makes bicycling the narrow road exciting, especially with the many tour buses plying the asphalt. Sneem was the winner of an annual Tidy Towns award. It looks like an ordinary tourist town to me. Horse carriages waited curbside to give tourists rides around town. A one-lane rock bridge spans the river with outcropping slabs of granite stuck on edge. The bridge is a very effective bottleneck with tourists cramming both sides of the bridge, and cars, trucks, and buses trying to get through on each end. We bicycle along the street until we find a bakery with tea shop attached. We lean our fully loaded touring bicycles against the building and enter to buy jam-filled pastries. We take our purchases next door to the tea shop and order a large pot of tea. Sitting at a window table, we watch rain pummel our bikes on the other side of the street. We take the opportunity to write postcards home, detailing the wonderful time we are having bicycle touring in Ireland. A fellow touring cyclist comes in and sits at a table next to us. He complains to his girlfriend that he's changed his socks three times already and he only has one pair of dry socks left. He is cycling. She is driving. Well, make that he was cycling. He has already loaded his bicycle into the car. He laments once again about the unfairness of wet socks. I'm with him on that one. He tells us that he's from New Jersey. He's ridden the New York Five Burroughs 40 miler with 25,000 bicyclists and 25,000 walkers. He's also ridden in the 200-mile Seattle ride with 10,000 cyclists. "I did it in 17 hours," he smugly informs us. We didn't have the unkindness to tell him we have bicycled farther than that on fully loaded touring bicycles, including a two-hour lunch break, in less time. As I get a refill of hot water, the owner tells me it's usually packed in here at this time of year. Since the New Jersey super-cyclist left, Sharon and I are the only ones in the tea shop. The owner sighs, "The Americans and Germans haven't come this year like in the past. The American Dollar is lower, so it's keeping more of them in North America. The Germans are holidaying in Italy, since the lira is so low. Ireland doesn't have any bargains," she said. You can say that again, I thought to myself. It cost me 5 bucks for a pot of hot water with a one-pence tea bag. With the free hot water refill, I figure I'm averaging down. The boys we met in Tramore, Ireland were right -- the ride from Sneem to Waterville is brilliant. There is only a tiny rock wall from the edge to the valley far below. Since we're bicycling the outside lane, we get a terrific view over the edge. I have to be careful as I bicycle along, as I gape over at various points, vertigo is experienced. And we have to watch for sudden wind gusts. The road around the Ring of Kerry is about as wide as one normal width road. A white line is painted sarcastically down the middle. Tour buses are only allowed to go in one direction -- counterclockwise. The tour buses take up almost all of the road when they pass us on our touring bicycles. With the wind gusts, I imagine myself plastered onto a bus windscreen. Buses used to go in both directions around the Ring of Kerry, but they've decided amongst themselves that they would only travel in one direction. Like one local told us, "They could almost get by one another." When the tour buses met, one bus driver would have to back up to a wider spot so the other could nudge by. With the amount of cars that sometimes got lined up behind the tour buses, this not uncommon occurrence was a nerve-jangling affair for everyone involved. We pass lots of cyclists coming towards us. Amusingly, the fella from New Jersey told us he had cycled the Ring of Kerry in the same direction that the buses go and he was the only cyclist going that direction. "Every other cyclist was going the opposite direction," he told us. Well, duh. Touring bicyclists rarely see other cyclists going the same direction as they are, unless they stop, since everyone travels around the same speed. Sometimes, another touring cyclist can be a few minutes ahead and you never see them. Lunch was behind a church where we hid trying to get out of the wind. We hadn't eaten anything save for tea and pastry and the sugar fix had all but burned out. That's the thing about that quick sugar energy -it's not sustainable. Sharon took out our Whisperlite camp stove and set to work making pancakes. The corn flour that I bought looked and squeaked suspiciously like corn starch. Oops. It didn't mix up so good with the milk and duck eggs either, but it seemed to fry up okay. What happens when one eats half a pound of corn starch? I wonder if I won't be able to crap for a week. The rain fell intermittently during lunch. It dripped off the church's one-foot roof overhang and onto my knees. After lunch, we bicycle to the top of a pass. A group of five Belgian cyclists from Brussels are there. They are students. Three of them tell us that they had bicycled in a charity event in Morocco a couple of years ago. They were the first friendly Belgians we have met. We got back on our touring bicycle and glided down to Waterville, Ireland. We bicycled a small road out of town. Immediately, the Ring of Kerry traffic was gone. As we bicycled along in the countryside, only a couple of locals passed us. The scenery is great. We get a sweeping view of the bay all to ourselves. We bicycle to Lake Cloonaghlin, Ireland to camp. The road down to the lake is fenced on both sides. We wave to a man and his wife as they work in their garden. The road to Lake Cloonaghlin unexpectedly ends. And not at a pristine lake camping location as we expected, either, but rather at a large old farmhouse. Dejectedly, we turn our loaded touring bicycles around begin cycling back along the road. After bicycling a short distance, we meet Timothy O'Sullivan walking on the road towards us. He had seen us go by while he was working in his garden and he knew we would be hitting the dead end soon, so he had come looking for us. "What are you folks looking for?" he asked kindly. We told him we were looking for a free camp spot to pitch our little tent for overnight. He said, "I can put you into one of my pastures." He led us through a couple of gates into a meadow that had us soon overlooking whitecaps on the Lake Cloonaghlin below us. Timothy closed the gate behind him. Taking his dog, Sailor, he bid us a goodnight. Looking at the dark grey sky coming towards us, we speedily set up our Kelty tent and dove inside just as a torrential cloud burst. It is midnight. What a great day we had bicycle touring in Ireland! |
