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July 24 Monday rain afternoon clearing evening Bicycle touring Northern Ireland Last night we rode until we came to a forest hiking trail. Remembering that our previous free bicycle camping on the Ulster Trail by the river had been so nice, visions of the same spurred us on. In actuality, this camping spot turned out to be a midge infested hatchery that had us swatting and complaining about how they don't know how to plant trees in Ireland. They just make an artificial breeding ground for bugs. We dove into our screened Kelty tent and spent
the next half-hour killing all infiltrators that had come in
with us. We thought it might actually be better to take down the tent in the rain as maybe the inclement weather would hinder the midges from flying. We kept hoping for a breeze. Sharon thinks mosquitoes are passive compared to these voracious critters. Battalions of midges were gathered under the tent fly in a solid black mass - waiting out the rain in a dry spot, no doubt - and licking their lips spying the tasty morsels inside the tent. Our breaking of camp was a precision take down, quickly squishing the fly together to kill a few hundred midges in revenge for their feeding frenzy we endured the previous evening. We bicycled back to the main road. After cresting a hill, we had a fifteen kilometre coast into Larne, Northern Ireland. In Larne we pulled our touring bikes to a stop and bought breakfast. We had scones (they have lots of varieties here) and soda bread made into flat triangles. We put rhubarb jam on top. The P&O Scottish ferry across to Cairyan, Scotland, cost us £21 each. I had 85 Southern Ireland pounds left, called punts, from Sharon's miscalculation the other day. She calculated correctly for the number of days we had left on our bicycle tour in Ireland, but she forgot that for a number of those days we would be cycling in Northern Ireland -- which uses different currency than the south. I traded in the £85. It cost us another $10 to do so. This money exchange business is a bloody racket by the banks to grab more money on exchange, and that's not even taking into consideration the bloody nuisance of it all. What a farce. That standard European currency is going to be a boon to tourists who hop through a bunch of European countries. Sharon bought groceries before we left Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland takes English pounds, as well as Northern Ireland notes. Sharon paid in English notes (which they also take in Scotland, as well as their own Scottish notes). We didn't notice until later (like after we were off the ferry) that the grocery store had given her Northern Ireland notes for change (which they don't accept in Scotland or anywhere else in the UK for that matter). Hell! Bloody crime! Silly buggers! Pain in the ass! In Larne, Northern Ireland, we saw signs: No Vehicles Left Unattended. The reason is because bombs have been left in unattended cars in the past. There are many policemen walking the streets. They are not friendly. I saw one with a massive German Shepherd that the police handler had to constantly restrain from eating pedestrians. Yikes. I hate to think what it would do to poor defenseless touring cyclists. The police have lots of guns and ear phones plugged in. No smiling allowed. Definitely a joyous place to live. The ferry takes about three hours to cross. It was calm .. which we are told is rare. We watched a movie. Before we went back to the bikes we hit the washroom. To our dismay we found showers! Too late. Sharon wondered if she had time to grab a quick shower before they reloaded the ferry to make the return trip to Larne. The Scottish scenery is grrreat. Roll that R. We were along the coast. Pine forests too. No rain, even better. Still, it is very green in Scotland, so I refuse to be lulled into a false sense of dry security. In B* we cycle inland on B4077. No traffic. The river follows on one side with farmland, sheep, and curly-haired cows. A path goes into a field below a farmhouse. We go to ask permission for overnight camping, but no one is home. We continue cycling. There are many dramatic-shaped pine trees. We're bicycle touring in Scotland all right. I saw a curling rock on someone's front steps. A mini-putt is by the beach. There are people playing cricket and lawn bowling. The grass in the cemeteries is shaved to a putting green length. School yards are locked, but public washrooms, garbage cans, and picnic tables abound. Checked a cemetery for camping. There was a headstone with an angel perched on top, wings outstretched. When I looked up at the figure I saw a cloud behind it in the same form, angel wings outstretched. Decided to camp at some trees across the road. We set up our small Kelty bicycle touring tent on a long disused concrete path. It kind of looks as though it was once a feeding station for cows. It is by a creek. As we lay in our tent we can hear the water flowing. It is clear tonight. Not many bugs. We saw bats out catching supper. Suddenly, three low level jet fighters streaked noisily overhead in the dusk. I could feel the air shimmer before they approached. Then, with a loud roar, they barely cleared the treetops above us, the fighter jets' afterburners glowing in the twilight. |
