2nd UK trip, day one

With this dawn comes responsibility. Pre-booked tickets and interconnected plans, a fabric of preconceived direction unlike anything my past self has ever really given me before. The morning air is already bright with warmth. I cycle alongside vans and articulated trucks to the Dublin port, entering the industry-heavy realm of twisted coloured metal, stacks of aging shipping crates, petrol fumes. I am boarded onto the lower deck of the ferry with all the HGVs. There is a three-bicycle rack there by the gangway, where BK will wait patiently for me to return to her, bracing herself by one wheel against the rolling of the sea. I say goodbye and make my way upstairs.

The sea is smooth and clean as silver. I stare out over it, this ethereal reflection of the air. Three hours of sleep is hardly enough to keep me going past this point. Food first, then rest, curled up in a booth with my bag between my legs like some kind of canvas egg. I awaken when we approach the other shore. The water glitters violently as we forge ahead to dock, and I disembark after the biggest truck, a guppy swept up in the slipstream of a shark.

Two trains follow close after one another and I hardly register either one. Marshmallows and peanut butter and a ribbon of land unspooling rapidly behind. Ill-behaved children and ill-tempered parents. Fits of sleep stolen before muscles relax into the rattling panes.

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Every city has its own unique character. It is etched into the street signs, spattered in graffiti, lurking in each grubby corner. To be understood it must be seen, smelled--felt, boiling off the concrete in the sweltering heat of a midsummer's day. Manchester is its own self. A wizened old man, hunching over his meagre river with a shifty smile.

reflections off the road: back into bad habits

Well, here I am back in Dublin, and slipping immediately back into all the bad habits I thought I put behind me when I set off on my grand cycle. Watching youtube videos all day, after being youtube-free for almost 30 days. Sitting around refreshing pages over and over waiting for updates. Getting hardly anything done. I'll run an errand or two, then sit down at the computer for hours. Wash a few dishes, put a few things away, then sit down again.

I really need to start having dedicated Internet-Free Days. I think I will start with one day a week: Friday. Every Friday I will do no internet except email on my phone, and research if necessary. I will try to do more creative things. I will restart my non-cycling workout routine. I will start a new comics project. I will sketch or write in my journals more often. I will make a blog entry twice a week and a youtube video once every other week.

I'm putting these goals in public now so you guys can get on my case if I don't follow thru. If you see me on the internet on Friday, say, GET OFF THE 'NET, WOMAN. If I don't post a blog entry once every three or four days you can email me, WHAT ARE YOU DOING. WRITE STUFF.

--

Tomorrow morning I'm getting up at the crack of dawn to take a ferry, with my bicycle, to the UK. I'll disembark in Wales at Holyhead and then take a series of trains to Manchester. I will kill zombies again at an abandoned manor house out there, go visit Holmfirth and take pictures/video for my grandmamma (it seems to be the #1 place she would visit were she to come to the UK), then take a train to York and cycle up to see an abbey that my mother absolutely adored when she was here. Then I'm going to Cardiff to do the Doctor Who Experience that just opened down there, and will probably return home after that, altho' I haven't bought my return ticket yet just in case I would like to stay a bit longer. The trip will only be 7 or 8 days total, and I'll come back just in time to prepare for my sister to come visit me on the 21st - 29th!!

I will write blog posts from the road possibly, but may not post them until a few days later. I have some "reflections off the road" blog posts that are only half finished right now that I've been procrastinating on... haha, good going, me. I had a wonderful 27-day streak of being more creative and I went and blew it on the internet once I got back to my flat. I was gone so long I forgot that my carpet was red and was literally surprised by it when I returned home. Now it's been days since I've properly left this tiny little room.

My time abroad is rapidly coming to a close. It's up to me to make the most of it from now on.

Pax.

Reflections of the road: bike kisses

Here's a problem all cyclists face that might not be well known. Oil stains on the calves, caused when your bicycle shifts forward when you're straddling it and the front chain rings rest against the leg. (Pictured above.) My right leg--the chain is on the right side of the bike--was usually covered in marks like this by the end of each day on the road, and sometimes my left leg was graced with one as well, if I was leaning against the bike or picking her up or something.

I saw a lot of Ring of Kerry cyclists sporting their own marks like this as well.

They need a lot of soap and vigourous scrubbing to remove, haha. But I see them as a badge of honour. Something unique that brands a cyclist a cyclist...

Random thought for yous to enjoy.

Pax.

Day twenty-seven

Arglshgs. I want to sleep in, but this hostel is all like GET OUT WE CLOSE AT ELEVEN so if I want tea and breakfast I have to get my arse outta bed.

Had a weird dream that we drove my grandmamma to Las Vegas so she could get her gallbladder removed. What is this I don't even.

Today was the most emotionally draining and confusing so far. The morning was absolutely miserable and pushed me to the limit of my mental endurance. The afternoon was amazingly calm and beautiful. My last proper cycling day had all the ups and downs of a long trip like this mashed together into less than six hours...

Started out by going down to see the rope bridge to Carrickarade island, which was of course chock full of tourists. Originally the thing was a way for fishermen to get across to check their salmon nets but now it's just a thing people do to say they did it. I didn't pay to cross and didn't even go all the way up to it, 'cause I realised I wasn't terribly interested, so I cycled away.

I really wanted to get out of the traffic I started out in on the A2, so I followed the instructions in the book and went off onto a third-class road in Ballyvoy. It seemed to make sense; I followed signs for Cushendun and everything. Passed a lot of sheep that absolutely panicked at the sight of me. Passed some llamas too, of all things. Then the road slowly gave up on the whole *being paved* thing. It began lashing rain and I had to get off the bike and push her up gravelly tractor tracks. At some point, I reached a dead end with three sheep gates on all sides. Rather than turn around and go down the rough slopes I'd just pushed BK up, I opened a gate and kept following the tractor tracks south. Then the wide tracks became a muddy path. Then the path disappeared into grassy muck. And that's how I came to be pushing my bicycle thru a bog, too stubborn to turn around, soaking wet and swearing.

I slogged along that way for what must have been two hours. I would tell myself, just reach the crest of the next hill, and you can decide what to do next. My shoes and socks were soaked all the way thru so I made no pretense anymore about avoiding puddles. Several hills were crested. The bog got boggier. Everything was wet and icy cold. I wanted to cry so bad, but I was like, no. You're stronger than that. Keep walking; as long as you head south you can't go wrong. Eventually, I saw a proper road in the distance, and headed for it, hauling BK thru the reeds and rushes and trying not to break my ankles as I randomly stepped into sinkholes. When I was like five metres from the road, I hated all the cars driving past, callously flashing me with their headlamps, offering no help as I was nearly waist high in grass and ankle deep in rain-drenched moss. Reaching the hard black asphalt was like waking up from a nightmare. I then had to pick all kinds of grass and debris out of my derailleur and chain, covering my hands in oil, before I could set off at a decent pace once again.

The sun emerged from behind a canopy of thick dark clouds before I hit Cushendun and I stopped there to get another sports drink and a snack... but I only had euros in cash, and both their ATM and card readers were broken, so I apologised and left with nothing. I had to pee really bad and I hated everything. When a kind young woman asked me if she could help me somehow, I had to choke back tears. I just wanted to quit today. If there was a train or a bus to Belfast there I would've gotten on it immediately--gotten on it and missed one of the best day's cycles yet. But I didn't know that. I did check the map, but the nearest train station to me was still in Larne, which was where I was headed anyway.

I did cry a little on the road to Cushendall, just to get all the built up stress out. When I reached that town I found a working ATM and bought my drink and snack, then begged to use the toilet in a hotel and kindasorta crashed a wedding reception. Outside the sun was quite warm, so I found a place by a little harbour to sit and breathe for a while. Calm down. Ate peanut butter and marshallow fluff out of their jars till I felt a bit sick. (Had an apple too, Mama.) When I was full and rested, I headed for the coast road I would follow all the way to Larne.

If it weren't for the constant annoyance of traffic, this road would, hands down, be my favourite cycling road so far. It was all flat or slightly downhill, allowing me to keep an easy pace of 20+ kph without stopping very often. The sea was on my left, no more than ten metres away, the water clear as a cut jewel and calmly lapping against the mottled black and white rocks. The sea in the distance was a solid blue line against the softer sky, horizon impenetrable as infinity. Sunlight bathing everything. How can one remain angry at life, bitter from a miserable morning, on a road like this? With the wind gentle, sea quiet, traffic polite...? When all your burps taste like marshmallows?

There were sage coastal cliffs, mystical forests, fields full of sheep, town after cute coastal town. I was going at such an easy pace I hardly stopped and took no pictures, but it was beautiful. When I reached Larne, I boarded the first train for Belfast and was on my way.

Whoa. Lady voice on train is a Northern Irish accent instead of a British one. Cool.

Carmel and Ciara came to pick me up once I reached Belfast central. Ciara and her husband Tim are like my Irish parents; Carmel is my Irish auntie. We fit BK into the boot with a bit of bother and some twine. At her house was a nice hot shower, supper (chicken wrapped in bacon!!), plenty of wine. And such good company. I can't forget my sister Nicoletta as well. The surrorogate family back together again. What a brilliant way to end this epic journey.

Tomorrow, Sunday, is a rest day in Belfast and I'll return to Dublin on the 30th of July. (this may not be posted till after that due to network problems.) I can't believe this is almost over. I won't know what to do with myself after this.

Pax.

Day twenty-six

Didn't get rollin' till half noon today. GF pasta leftovers, tea, and four rashers for breakfast. Boiled six eggs to carry with me. I was gonna fry some but had no oil, not enough fat in the bacon either, and didn't wanna burn 'em.

Very sunny day today, but not hot due to a refreshing abundance of breezes. Hills were all smooth and I spent a lot of time singin' jazzy scat for some reason. Nice views of Lough Swilly and pillowsoft green and yellow hills. Seemed to pass by quickly and I averaged over 15 kph, yay me!

Aside from a few busy, potentially dangerous (if you do it wrong) roundabouts, had a nice hard shoulder on the busy N13 all the way to the border. Didn't even know I'd crossed it of course except that the speed limit signs randomly changed from kilometres per hour to miles per hour and the hard shoulder vanished. Had a useless off road cycle path for about a quarter mile, then had to merge with traffic again for a ton more roundabouts. Forgot how much I hate city traffic. It's much more annoying on a heavily loaded touring bike. Dublin seems more manageable than Derry; Derry had practically no cyclists in it to train motorists to look out for us. But once I remembered to take my whole lane, I was fine and felt safe enough. There was a righthand passing lane for folks behind me to use all the way into Derry so no one got in anybody's way.

Guide book I'm using suggests taking a train out of Derry to the giants' causeway area so I got a ticket for Portrush at the Derry sation. It didn't leave for two hours so I cycled around a bit and went to the tourist office to see if the hostel I was aiming for on the map was still running (had found out in Malin Beg that the one I wanted the next night in Crohy Head was shut down, hence the miserable camping). It still exists, so I went ahead and booked tonight over the phone. Makes this the only night I've booked in advance.

After that I cycled to the Bogside and went into the Free Derry Museum. It's propaganda, sure. Mostly chronicles the events of Bloody Sunday and the 13 innocent deaths thereon. And I got to thinking, Damn. Dozens of police opening fire on civilians (after YEARS of unrest and troubles) and 13 die. One dude in a movie theatre in Colorado opens fire for like five minutes and 12 die. Talked to the guy in the museum about American gun laws for a while. Damn do we need to do something about those.

Other than a few political-historical things, Derry seems to consist mainly of huge shops, so I didn't feel inclined to stay long. Back to the train station for a hurried lunch while waiting for the train. Guy waiting in there too gave me an orange, said I needed the sugar for cycling. Thank you, guy. I'll eat it with breakfast in the morning and add some vitamins to my bacon diet.

On the train, I met some girls who'd met my bike in Donegal--that's right, not me, but BK, and they recognised her later. We talked for a bit, then played Boggle. Couldn't help but think of you, Mama. They allowed three letter words tho', not only five and up like you do :P

Had to change trains in Coleraine and therefore didn't make it to Portrush until almost 19:00. Portrush is another seaside resort town, even had a fair going on with all the spinny pukey rides of childhood. And cars parked everywhere in one way streets making me go in a huge circle before I found the right road.

Countryside here mostly feels British. Not sure how to describe it. It's like, the grass is shorter, the hedges more orderly. But then you'll cycle past a house pouring sweet turf-smelling smoke and it's Irish too. Such a weird transitional space.

Cycled up to the giant's causeway--taking a road the little bus for the elderly/handicapped/lazy uses (prolly wasn't allowed but I didn't want to leave BK unattended at the top). I climbed about on the basalt columns for a while and got a guy to take a picture of me with my broken camera (hope the photos are turning out fine...). He asked me something like, "did you walk all this way? You look..." And gestured at my legs. I s'pose that means I look super fit, haha! Makes me feel like a hero. I talked to him a bit about my cycling trip before turning back.

I would've liked to have done the whole cliff walk there, or at least spent an hour or so sitting there and contemplating the vastness of the sea. But as it was, I needed to reach the hostel before its 22:00 curfew, so I only stayed about twenty minutes. Then, onward in the waning light toward White Park Bay.

The White Park Bay hostel is the cleanest and most professional so far, because it is an official Youth Hostel Association place. That also means it's the most expensive (£18) and the most strict about closing and opening times etc. Means an early morning for me... Have to leave completely by 11:00.

Tomorrow I'm going to Belfast, and will stay with friends there for a day or two before taking a train back to Dublin... Bringing this whole saga to a close. It's hard to believe that this trip is almost over. Where have the days gone? Where is July running off to in such a hurry?

I'm not done travelling yet, tho', of course! Or blogging. I hope to keep both up for a long while yet.

Pax.

P.s. -- now that I'm technically in the UK, O2 wants to be stupid and charge me roaming and limit my internet access etc. Which means I don't know when I'll be able to post these last few days of posts since it will depend on wifi access. Fyi.

Day twenty-five

I'm not even going to try and write today's post until tomorrow. Considering you will exclusively be reading this in the future that might be a bit confusing, but that's only the start of how addled my brain is today. Yesterday. Okay, forget the above and just pretend I wrote this on the evening of the 27th.
--

I was trying to describe last night's campsite when I was so rudely attacked by midges. Basically, the site itself was beautiful. Mossy ancient trees and rocks, evergreen canopy, blanketed in bright green clover. So I set up camp and began to eat supper, marvelling at how magical it was, up out of sight of the main road toward Dungloe. Then, WHAM. The midges found me. I think midges and damp are Ireland's curse because no landscape on Earth is allowed to be perfect.

Anyway, I used up all the rest of my repellent, but still the midges were so thick I was literally *breathing them in*. So I changed and crawled into my bivvy bag ASAP. Tried to write a bit while inside it but the midges poured in thru the little breathing hole I left, flying all over my phone and into my eyes. Basically I had to shut the bivvy bag over my face, leaving only my mouth and nose exposed. Except then they flew into my mouth and up my nose, so I had to pull my kerchief over my face and try to sleep that way. I hardly slept, let me tell you. The ground was rocky and it was a bit warm so I kept wriggling in and out of my sleeping bag within the bivvy bag and of course if the opening shifted from my kerchief'd nose the midges would terrorise me... Basically, worst night so far, and a big mistake. But once I'd already set up camp I was too tired to move it. Of course, this whole island is one big bog so on a warm night like that I doubt anywhere would be better. 'twas the first time I found myself wishing I'd brought a tent instead, something less flexible but with the ability to zip up all the way and shut midges out, allowing me to change or type unmolested.

When I finally got up in the morning I ate nothing, just changed and packed quickly as possible and fled. Pulled some gunk out of my derailleur on the road, some grass and stuff now black with oil, and now I don't think my fingernails will ever be clean again...

When I finally stopped for a small snack, sitting on a rock in the peat bogs, I was attacked by huge, multicoloured bog flies. Aaaaaaaaarrgghghhhgh! I smashed all that dared to touch me and fled again.

Finally stopped for a proper brunch in Doocharry, just eating random food from my panniers. It was lovely in the sun by the Gweebarra river (pictured above) and there were few bugs. The town's only shop had no peanut butter, tho' :( . Got going again toward Glenveagh National Park. Small one lane road, little traffic, so sunny it actually bordered on uncomfortably hot. A lot of the houses I passed were trailers. Poor farmers out this way I guess? The park itself was beautiful, whispering grasses on every side, crisscrossed with running water, lumpy grey mountains bursting at their mossy seams. It was a long, slow uphill, and my sleep-and-bacon starved legs fatigued right quickly. I was slick with sweat all day. The degree of incline was very low but I felt so draggy... I kept checking my drivetrain and tyres but the only mechanical problems were in my muscles. The park was lovely tho', so I just slogged along at a nearly walking pace and enjoyed it. Nice lengthy downhill toward Church Hill (sorta) before the road flattened out again. I hardly remember much past that crossroads (I went toward Letterkenny); I was practically falling asleep at the wheel. (handlebars?) When the sign said Letterkenny in 8 km I was on a nice downhill so I was like, could this downhill last 8 whole km? Please?? And it did! Yay.

Letterkenny is apparently the biggest town in Co. Donegal, and it seems nice. I meant to go on to Derry today, but fatigued as I was, I figured I'd stay here tonight, then cycle to Derry tomorrow, catching a train toward the Giant's Causeway to cut off some of tomorrow's journey. So I stopped at the first hostel I saw, but it turned out to be for the homeless, haha. Guy there directed me to the Port Hostel behind the theatre, and I headed that way, stopping at a health food store first to get some snacks and more non-DEET insect repellent.

This place is very obviously an old house converted recently to a hostel. The owners seem new to the hostel business; very friendly and laid back, but inexperienced-seeming. Good value for money--€15 got me a private double bed for the night. So needed after the fiasco of last night. Ate a whole gluten-free cake while interneting and then made a huge GF pasta dinner to make up for my lack of snacking throughout the day. Long hot shower. I don't seem to have too many bites... One obnoxiously on my stomach, a few on my arms. I guess the repellent didn't keep them from crawling on me but did keep them from biting.

Defo sleeping in so late start tomorrow.

Pax.

Day twenty-four

I did not want to get up this morning... Could've slept for forever. I mean, I got nine hours of sleep last night so it's not like I've been sleep starved or anything. My digestive system is still on the fritz tho'. To the point where I know I'm not absorbing all the nutrients in what I eat because it's just passin' right thru me.

Didn't burn my breakfast but still managed to fill the kitchen with smoke while cooking it. Gorram it. French folk in the dining room laughing at me. Man this is dripping in oil but I'm gonna eat it anyway.

Tap water here comes from under the bog and is coloured like tea. Hostelman says it's fine to drink it, so I guess I will. Better to turn it into actual tea first tho'.

Cycling here is much nicer in the sun than in the rain. Tons of uphills today tho'. Met a fellow cyclist along the way, him on his holidays too but based in a car. He stayed and chatted with me for a while, distracting and encouraging me enough to get up a pretty significant incline without stopping to rest. On downhills and flat stretches I kept up with him all right, but eventually lost him among the green suede hills. S'all right. I'm quite slow, carrying the weight of my gear. Didn't wanna slow him down.

Reaching the top of the Glengesh pass was brutal. At one point an elderly Irish man in a car stopped to encourage me. I ate a boiled egg and finished all my water by the end. When I reached the top, I strapped my countourROAM to my helmet and tried not to die coming down. Descent did something weird to my speedometer/cycle computer thingy but I think it's working all right again now?

Stopped for lunch in adorable town of Ardara, sitting at a picnic table in the sun by a river. Ate peanut butter and marshmallows on corn cakes. (don't judge me.) While I was sitting there, a little robin came to perch on the handlebars of my bike and keep an eye on me. (Shat on my handlebar bag tho', haha.) She kept coming back, begging for food I s'pose. I crumbled up a corn cake for her and she flew back and forth getting more. Should have a picture of her up there. I did see her stuff some food down the throat of a brown screaming fledgling on the fence.

Wonderful lunch by the river, soaking up the afternoon sun. Glutted myself on the internet I'd been lacking for a while. Finally posted the last entry and all. Lingered for over two hours because I didn't want to leave the warm lawn I sprawled out on.

Relaxing cycle for the rest of the day, past beaches and sunsoaked farmsteads. All subsequent hills were a bit tough on my already hardworked legs, but they were mostly short. I particularly enjoyed crossing the bridge over the Gweebarra delta for some reason. Sandy bay sparkled in the oblique sunlight. After that I passed miles and miles of ugly roadworks, looking for a place to camp for the night. Passed thru a lot of barren, empty peat bog, but then a forest came up on the left which seemed perfect so I pulled on in. Note word seemed.

all right hold on y'all the midges are inside my bag in my eyes ohgodi'll finish thi