The seven plucky cyclists (l-r): David Meagher, Eoin Burns, Colum Dunne, John Cooke, Paul Finucane, Phil Henschke and Paul Reynolds
Our 2010 cycling season clicks off with an attempt by a group from the UL Graduate-Entry Medical School and their friends to cycle the length of Ireland — from the south-western tip of Cork to the top of Donegal’s Inishowen peninsula.
A flurry of emails around Easter identifies seven of us with little or no interest in Wimbledon or the World Cup and with nothing better to do with ourselves in early July.
The planning falls just a little short of the definition of a ‘military operation’. Instead, we agree to meet up at Mizen Head on a certain Wednesday evening, to turn our arses to the wind and to hope for the best.
Paul agrees to loan us his bus (‘Jojo’) as a support vehicle and Aileen is press-ganged into driving. A new record (19 hours) for cycling the distance has only just been established and so we think it only fair to defer our own attempt at that particular record. Instead, we’ll try to cover the 667kms over five days and a bit.
Day 0 (Mizen Head to Bantry – 44km):
Driving into West Cork on the appointed afternoon, the mist that we first encounter at Bandon turns into serious rain as we hit Drimoleague. At Mizen Head, the rain is horizontal. Like the royal family, we have avoided travelling together. As expected, those travelling from Australia and London arrive on time while the Limerick contingent is over half an hour late.
A decision by the ‘regulars’ not to hang around in the teeming rain for the ‘irregulars’ helps to maintain the proud Irish tradition of establishing a splinter group, even before the first wheel is turned.
Once on the road and with the weather at our backs, the cycle through the rain is just fine. We travel through Barley Cove, Goleen, Toormore and Durrus — God’s own country, if only you could see it.
We later assemble for grub and a pint in The Snug bar in Bantry. This small pub is one of West Cork’s best-kept secrets and consistently produces simple but high-quality food in generous portions and all for less than €20 a head – something to remember the next time you’re at the West Cork Literary Festival or the West Cork Chamber Music Festival.
Day 1 (Bantry to Tralee – 114km):
This promises to be one of the more challenging days of the trip and so we decide to take it handy. A leisurely breakfast is followed by a gentle spin through Ballylickey and Glengariff before our first climb over the Caha Mountains into Kenmare. The rain has cleared overnight, leaving a fresh morning with plenty of cloud cover – a perfect day for cycling.
To reward ourselves when we reach Kenmare, we have a coffee break at Jam café on the main street. Half of Kenmare seems to have the same idea, but they somehow manage to squeeze us in, look after us supremely well and even manage a bit of banter regarding the likely outcome of the Limerick/Kerry Munster Final on the following Sunday.
There seems to be a bit of divided loyalty on the match in Kenmare as the Limerick manager, Mickey Ned O’Sullivan, is both a local and a local hero.
The next stage takes us over Moll’s Gap and into Killarney — a bit of a challenge this, and a sure measure of fitness levels. Those of us who think we’ve passed the worst on reaching the summit of Moll’s Gap are in for a rude awakening as we hurtle downhill, swerving all the way to avoid potholes, loose gravel, tourist coaches and jay-walking sheep.
Killarney is heaving and rather than linger, we head on for Tralee and a badly needed assignation with a shower or bath. Anybody in search of a near-death experience need do no more than attempt to cycle between Killarney and Tralee, a road on which the volume of traffic is matched only by its speed.
Like he’s been able to do with the roads in South Kerry, here’s hoping that Jackie Healy-Ray manages to convert this to motorway before he retires from politics! With the grace of God or with the luck of the Devil, we all arrive safely in Tralee.
Dinner that evening at the Bella Bia turns out to be another great experience. Though we arrive unannounced at the packed restaurant, all ten of us (by now we have acquired a few hangers-on) are found a seat with the minimum of fuss and a lot of Kerry humour. We’re offered the ‘early bird’ menu a good half hour after this is no longer meant to be available and are again royally fed for less than €20 a head.
The team celebrates the end of the journey, as they finally reach Malin Head, Co Donegal
This is meant to be a low-demand day, sandwiched between the earlier challenges of the Cork and Kerry mountains and the long cycle to Roscommon. The Gods are again with us and provide a dry, overcast and warm day and with a good stiff breeze at our backs – perfect for cycling. With yesterday’s perils still fresh in our minds, we decide to diverge from the more direct N69 route and instead travel to Listowel via Abbeydorney, Lixnaw and Finuge. The Listowel Arms Hotel is a flurry of activity, with a wedding party expected within a few hours.
Still, they have the time and patience to ply us with coffee and conversation. Somehow or other, we soon find ourselves engaged with some of the natives in earnest and contemporaneous debates on the economic development of Kenya, on obscure aspects of Zen Buddhism and inevitably, on Limerick’s chances against Kerry in the upcoming Munster Final.
It might well be off the streets of Listowel that John B Keane and Bryan McMahon licked their literary talents.
Back on the bikes and on to Tarbert and to a rough enough ferry crossing of the Shannon, with the wind working against the tide. On reaching the Clare side, we suffer our first abdication. While the peloton heads for the west coast, David decides to cycle the direct route to Galway so that he can participate in a triathlon on the following morning. He will rejoin the group near Galway on the following day and continue on to Malin with us. There’s a whole different world out there!
As the rest of us make our way to Kilrush and then on to Kilkee and Doonbeg, we face into the wind for the first time and fully appreciate the difference that this is making to our progress.
Even going downhill, it’s hard to make ground against the gale and as we pass by, it strikes us that the townland of Moanmore must surely have been named by a previous cycling group. We lunch on a seat outside the SuperValu in Kilrush, where the local sages and philosophers also seem to gather.
We examine them closely to make sure that it’s not the same group that we left behind us in Listowel, but they look and speak differently, even if with the same air of authority on equally diverse topics. They are liberal with their advice on the best route to take to Doonbeg and on the likely impact of a night there on our bank balances.
When we get there, the splendour of Doonbeg relegates all thoughts of expense to the subconscious. To hell with poverty – treat yourself to a night or a weekend there at some stage and see for yourself.
Day 3 (Doonbeg to Ballinlough – 165km):
The first (and by no means the least) of today’s challenges is to haul ourselves out of bed and prise ourselves away from Doonbeg. The wind is still fresh and the day is dry as we sail through Miltown Malbay and Lahinch and on into Ennistymon.
The Falls Hotel has no issues with serving coffee to seven sweaty cyclists and the caffeine infusion helps us on our way through Kilfenora, Carran and Kinvarra. We hit the Limerick-Galway road at Kilcolgan where Mother Hubbard’s fast food restaurant provides us with exactly the energy replacement that we need, again served with equal measures of humour and efficiency.
We make our way past Oranmore where David rejoins the group, ‘fresh’ from his triathlon earlier in the day. By this stage, the rest of us are beginning to feel that we too might just have completed a triathlon.
The flat terrain that we are expecting turns out to be quite undulating and we find that the succession of hills starts to drain both our energy levels and our will to live.
On and on we go through Claregalway and Tuam until we reach Dunmore. Here, we make the mistake of stopping at a pub, ostensibly to watch the second half of the Germany vs Argentina World Cup match. The game is enjoyable, but an outbreak of sore backsides and aching legs makes it anything but easy to get back on the bikes afterwards.
For the last few kilometres through Cloonfad and then across country to Ballinlough we are all running on reserve and some of us on empty. We arrive at the White House Hotel just as the first rain of the day starts to fall.
Day 4 (Ballinlough to Donegal Town – 135km):
We rise to a wet and windy morning and examine our luggage for wet gear. However, by the time we finish breakfast, the rain has cleared and sun begins to emerge.
The wind is a gale-force westerly and as we begin our cycle north, the road ahead is strewn with leaves, twigs and branches — hazards that make an interesting change from the myriad of potholes with which we have had to contend to date.
The first townland that we meet has the delightful name of Upper Mountain and has a roadside graveyard, presumable for the convenience of passing cyclists.
For most of the day, the wind is from the side and other than almost causing us to lose control of the bikes from time to time, it is not a particular nuisance. However, on the rare occasions that we have to cycle into the teeth of the gale, we come to appreciate its ferocity. Today, we finally begin to work as a team, cycling two abreast whenever the road conditions and traffic allows.
At any given time, the pair in front does the bulk of the work with the others literally hanging on for the ride. We rotate the positions regularly, thus sharing the workload.
In this way, we zip along the back roads through Loughglinn, Ballaghderreen and Gorteen at speeds that regularly exceed 40kpm and sometimes 50kpm. We feel exhilarated by the time we stop for a coffee in Ballymote – why hadn’t we cycled like this from the outset?
The team-cycling kicks in again as we make our way through Collooney and Sligo, then around Benbulben and a lunch stop at Grange. Fitness levels among the group are roughly similar, allowing us to maintain a pace with which all are comfortable.
We manage the last leg of the trip without difficulty, travelling through Bundoran and Ballyshannon and on into Donegal.
Its festival time in Donegal Town and that evening, we are treated to an open-air concert by the Saw Doctors. Their rendition of their ‘N17’ signature tune now has a particular meaning for us all and our gluteal muscles give an involuntary twitch when the words “I wish I was on the N17; stone walls and the grass is green” fill the air.
Day 5 (Donegal Town to Malin Head – 127km):
The final day threatens to be the most challenging of all, with numerous hills to be negotiated. The morning starts badly as Phil has a puncture (the first and amazingly, the only puncture encountered by any of us during the entire trip). The replacement tube turns out to be a dud and as we all hang around waiting for it to be replaced, it begins to rain.
As we hit the first hill on the road to Ballybofey, there is little or none of the chat and banter that has been present on previous mornings. We slog uphill through Barnesmore Gap, when Paul breaks into a stirring rendition of ‘Carrickfergus’ and this gives us all a lift.
However, the heavens open as we start to race downhill to Ballybofey and we immediately feel cold, wet and miserable. We cycle through road-side puddles and hope that these are not disguising large pot holes. The spray from passing articulated trucks adds to our misery.
The wonderful Kee’s Hotel in Stranorlar provides us with shelter and hot drinks and when we emerge a while later, the sun is mercifully shining again. We return to cycling in formation and make good progress to Letterkenny and out along the coast road to a lunch stop in Buncrana.
Just 35km to go now and our emerging feelings of complacency are reinforced by the staff at the restaurant who tell us that the terrain is flat all the way to Malin. It transpires that they are all hanging liars in Buncrana. The climb past Slieve Snaght is a killer and we’re all pretty knackered on reaching Carndonagh.
Then on to the town of Malin, where we realise that we’re still 19km from Malin Head. The problem now is that we’re cycling into the teeth of the wind and having to fight for each yard of the road. Cruellest of all is the steep ascent to the car park and vantage point at Malin Head, and the end of the journey.
An assortment of spouses, partners, family, life insurance agents and funeral directors are there to greet us. We take a few deep breaths, briefly take in the view of Inishtrahull and then start planning next year’s event.
Reflections
In retrospect, the experience was pretty much all positive. We were blessed with the weather and apart from a single puncture, had no technical or mechanical problems. We were amazingly tolerant of one another’s bad jokes, appalling singing voices and other idiosyncrasies. For us all, the trip challenged some urban myths regarding Ireland as a holiday destination.
Wherever we went, ate or slept, we met with politeness, humour, friendship and efficiency. From humble fast-food outlets to up-market restaurants, the quality of food was excellent and never over-priced.
If you’re planning a holiday in Ireland this year, you can take heart.
About admin
Loading ...
