The Royal Canal Way (most of the way) back to Dublin

"Take the Royal Canal Way all the way from Mullingar to Dublin." is what we were told. Checking the map it seemed like a great idea: minimal hills, direct and no traffic with which to contend. The reality, however, interfered with our intentions.It deteriorated from a well paved road, to roads that were more pothole than road to a hiking trail onwhich we had to lift our bikes over the many gates. Although curious as to how the conditions could get worse, after about 40km we headed onto the noisy national roads and in to Dublin.

Mullingar

We decide against heading north from Sligo, as Mylene has a plane to catch in a few days time. Cutting across the country means that our halfway point will be Mullingar. A last minute CouchSurfing request gets us in contact with Melanie. She lives on a horse stud and has had many career changes trough her life - design student, studying traditional chinese medicine (TCM) and rearing horses. She eschews life in the city for the more rooted rural lifestyle. What's particularly interesting in our topics of conversation is TCM and she has a private practice in the town. Her house is cosy, with a peat stove and simple but comfortable furniture.

Sligo, I hardly recognised ya!

We decide to take another rest day in Sligo as the weather has decided that summer is over. We plan to use the time to dry our clothes and rest our weary legs. Mossy, a primary school teacher and our CS host, lives south of Sligo town and provides us with conversation and omlettes in ample measure on our arrival. As evidence to how trusting some CS hosts are, he leaves the key out for us in case he arrives home after us. He is passionate about his "kids" (his school children), travelling alone and music. On our rest day, we weave between showers and visit Strandhill and Slligo town. Although I lived here for nearly a year, the town is barely recognisable to me due to all the new constuction and new road layout. The town looks a bit more run down with more businesses closing down and lots of traffic in the town.

Newport or first of many ports

A day of firsts today.

My first experience of Warm Showers (warmshowers.org) awaits me in Newport. Warm Showers is the same concept as CouchSurfing, but specifically for bicycle tourers.
The other first is experiencing the famous Greenway bikeway that extends all of 50km or so along the coast as far as Achill. The intention to build a better cycling infrastructure for tourers along the west coast is an admirable one, but the execution is somewhat lacking, with variable road quality and road works at places.
We meet the most impressive stretch of road thus far between Maam Cross and Leenane. A stunning valley made more spectacular by the continuing sun.
Betty, our WS host, turns out to most interesting and has spent a lot oof her life at sea, manning yachts of various shapes and sizes She inspires me to try and join a yacht crew as my next adventure. Instead of adventures on the high road, it'll be adventures on the high seas next time.

Galway nights

22C and an early ferry from the island permits us to take the more scenic road along the coast, through the Burren. On asking for water, we are invited for a coffee and learn that all four have strong Berlin connections - two live in Schoenberg and the other two have spent many years living there.
The sun is so intense that we spend lunchtime in Ballyvaughan, before heading on to Galway. Its Friday evening when we reach Spanish Arch in the heart of Galway city. The combination of sun and weekend make Galway THE place to be when the weather is fine. Its a young and vibrant city, epitomised by our host for the next two nights, Betty.
Patty is from New Zealand who takes a relaxed approach to hosting. She gives us a key to the house and let's us loose on the city.
This is the first time in Ireland we have a rest day and its great to just have a lazy day to read, catch up on emails and just cruise on our bikes.
On Saturday evening, we listen to some live music in a pub. The band is good and plays lots of Van Morisson, The Beatles, Paolo Nutini and Simon & Garfunkel.

Inis Oirr - An Island in the Sun

A short ride to Doolin (50km) in somewhat sunny conditions allows us time to take in some of the scenery en route. I do realise that we are on the west coast where the weather is most erratic, but hope that the sun will stay out for this night as we have planned to camp.
We load our bikes and gear onto the ferry to the smallest of the Aran Islands - Inis Oirr. It adds to the feeling of adventures when you take a ferry across the seas from "the mainland", albeit only 30 minutes into the Atlantic Ocean.
It turns out to be beach weather all day, which is fortuitous, as this is the first beach we have encountered on our journey. The island is 3km x 3km, with most tourists staying a few hours and then heading back to the mainland before dusk. In spite of its size, there is a lot to see when the sun is shining and we visit the shipwreck (of Father Ted fame), the lighthouse, the seal colony (minus the seals), the holy well, multiple ruined churches and the sandy beach.
Time does not stand still on the island but it certainly does run slower which gioves the sun more time to burn our skin. Yes, who would think to bring suncreen on a holiday in Ireland? You can really see changes in the colour and intensity of the sunlight as the afteroon sun gives way to the evening sun.
After a Guinness at one of the local pubs, we set up camp on the west side of the island. believeing there is little wind, we pitch the tent on a large flat rock overlooking the sea. This was a mistake, as the wind rattles the tent all night long, making sleep intermittant at best.

Ennis relations

A short ride to Ennis, remarkaby with no rain, means that we arrive there in late afternoon. To change thngs up a bit, our hosts for this evening are actually people I know quite well, distant relatives Tom & Bernie. I have not seen them in about 25 years, but the welcome is every buit as warm as I remember. Despite their advvancing age they are very active and have a full day planned, colleting grandchildren from school, birthday party and funeral. However, Bernie has still found time to cook us some dinner and make our stay as comfortable and relaxed as possible. Mylene is inspired by the homemade soda bread and resolves to make some at the soonest opportunity.
They are open-minded, being particularly curious about CouchSurfing. They are interested in local politics but have a larger worldiew than most people in Ireland. They want to learn about stuff that's not happening in their own backyard. For example the refugee situation in Europe. They insist that being happy outweighs all considerations of future security. I don't know why I did not really listen to this advice before now. I guess that wisdom and listening skills come with age and experience.
Bernie was up bright and early the next morning and baked an extra soda bread for us to take on our journey.

Limerick

Guess what? More rain, ya betcha. "Unsettled" has been the description of the wethaer thus far ie it rains everyday in bursts, making it impossible to have the correct clothes on at all times. Mylene catches the bus the final 40km and the race is on.... bike vs Bus Eireann. Granted I have a 50 minute head start, but still I arrivein Limerick just 10 minutes after Mylene.
Awas, our CS host for the evening, hails from Saudi Arabia, but tells us how he fell in love with Ireland whilst doing a Ph.D. here. "Its always a party when it rains in Saudi Arabia", so the persistant rain does not bug him out and he loves the Irish personality. His set up is a little unusual in that he has bought a houe in Limerick, where he lets his guests stay, but he spends his nights sleeping in the university campus. Odd, but it means that he can have more guests at any one time. As we fill up on pizza and 7-Up, we chat late in the evening.

Killarney National Park

Although it was plan to have an easy day of only 70km, we neglect to check how hilly the coastline is between Bantry and Killarney. The weather clears a little and we get to see some of the stunning coastline scenery of the Wild Atlantic Way.
Eventually we arrive at Killarney National Park toward late evening. As we have not reached our intended CouchSurfer in Tralee, we have to rely on our plan B, camping. Setting up camp in wet conditions whilst having being wet all day, is not the most pleasant way to spend an evening. Reversing the process the next day does not thrill me much either. It does mean that we are on the road early for a change, though. We sleep in the arboritum section of the park and woke up very close to wandering tourists the next day. Despite 10 hours of alleged sleep, muscles are slow to warm the next day. Wild camping in Ireland is not allowed but if one is suitably hidden, never a problem.

Who's that at my Durrus?

It was always gonna be a long day to Durrus (near Bantry) and starting late did us no favours. On reaching Cork in the pouring rain (notice the theme?), Mylene decied to take the path of least resistance and takes the bus the rest of the way. Slogging out the remaining 90km (135km for the day) was an exercise in determination.
In Durrus, the no street signs or house numbers, makes it difficult to locate our CS host for the evening, Sinead. Sinead, Tadgh (her cute and talkative 2 year old son) and Frank make us feel welcome from the very start. The vegetarian curry that Sinead has prepared is particularly memorable when one is in calorie deficit for the day, as is an epic warm shower.

Somewhere between Mitchelstown and Fermoy

One thing about Ireland, is that it has proven difficult to find CouchSurfing hosts. We surmise that this is sue to its peripheral location in Europe, leading to it's lesser exposure to newer ideas. There could also be some scepticism about letting strangers into one's house, due to this insulated island mentality. Whatever are the responsible factors, I do hope they dissipate over the coming years and that Irish people get to enjoy the freedom and also the inspirational potential CS brings as both traveller and host.
Heavy rain all day means and the prospect of a wet night under canvas, dampens our resolve to cover more kilometers. We avoid the "death-trap" betrween Mitchelstown and Mallow by climbing one long hill towards Fermoy and decide to knock on the nearest door asking for permission to pitch our tent in their garden. After a somewhat guarded acceptance, we start mounting our tent as the downpour continues, at which point we are invited inside to take showers and sleep in a warm bed. We spend the night looking after the four kids (Ronan, Rory, Padraig and Hannah) while the parents (Donnagh & Rose) go off to the cinema. I play Halo 4 with the boys, while Mylene talks Art with Hannah.
The next day we get the royal tour of the dairy farm, where the kids have a list of chores to complete. We gain insight intothe practicalities and politics of dairy farming in Ireland.

Oh my God, they Kilkenny

My dad and I collect Mylene at the airport on the night before we are to set off on our Tour d'Irlande. She arrives with her over-sized (3 times normal bike box) oversized luggage. Amusement for all around who care witness our attempts at fitting such an enormous box through various doors and the final challenge of getting it folded and into the car.

Five hours sleep and we need to pack my brother's car with the bikes to give us a little head start on our first day. The sun is shining, the weather is clear and the remaining journey to Kilkenny is a breeze, which coincidently is on our backs the whole way.
Lots of time to stroll about the beautiful and historic city, explaining to Mylene about hurling and school uniforms.
We meet our lovely Polish-born host, Dorothy, where else but at a local pub. She gives up her bed so that we can sleep soundly and cooks us brownies for our journey the next day. We have a tour of Kilkenny by night and enjoy some live music at night.

Dublin ahoy

The wind behaves itself today and between bouts of rain, sunshine breaks through. The coast road from Gorey to Dublin is great with little traffic. I have my lunch on the beach of Brittas Bay, with the sun deigning to shine for the 20 minutes I sit there. 

The Dublin suburbs, I mean sprawlburbs, reach into neighbouring counties and the final part through these kilometers is an insipid blur of hastily constructed dwellings lined up in attention. 

Approaching my house after a 1000km journey conjures up memories from my youth. I remember that I cycled as far as the end of the street, then to Bushy Park, then, in later years, regularly to a pool in Stillorgan and even as far as Bray! Throughout my life, as I have cycled further from my doorstep, my worldview has shifted. To this current extent that I feel that my bike connects not just to the outer reaches of my hometown, but to the whole world.

My fantasies of a warm bath over these past 12 days are realised on reaching my parents' house. The first leg is complete and now it's a waiting game until Mylene joins me in a few days.
The beautiful Mafalda comes to visist me in Dublin for a few days and I get to show her around town.

Gorey moment

The anticipated voyage across the sea from Cherbourg to Rosslare was not the high seas adventure it was expected to be. The James Joyce ferry is mundane and dull and the journey lasts 20 hours. 

Finally arriving on Irish soil, all set for my first bike tour in Ireland, a force northerly wind curtails my plans to make Gorey without breaking a sweat. Ireland warns me that, despite its diminutive stature, it will be no pushover.

Steven, a Methodist minister, greets me at his door and bids me to make myself at home while he pops out on some parish business. Soon he's back and I learn of his good works and generous spirit to those unfortunate. Without fuss or fanfare, he helps the needy families with nowhere else to turn. Hero cape required, but he probably wouldn't wear it. 

The next morning, there is a fundraising event for the church. It's a lively affair, with a large selection of items on sale as well as the delicious homemade cakes. Choosing a biscuit cake and sitting down to force-fed cup after cup of tea, is a grand way to spend a Saturday morning. 

Morsalines

Today I encounter the Atlantic - or as my host corrects me, the English Channel. Instead of feeling triumphant at this milestone, I think of how my nemesis, Mr North Westerly, will use this lack of shelter to throw the kitchen sink at me, water and all. And so it proves to be a long day battling the wind and rain, a last gasp effort to foil my plans to reach the coast in time for my ferry to Ireland. Luckily I have planned for such a devilish manoeuvre and I've plenty of time to reach Cherbourg. To quote the Bard, "come wind and rack, at least I'll die with devil on my back".

In less dramatic terms, I'm late for dinner at Greta's in Morsalines. Greta and Jean Baptiste have a magnificent wooden house near to the beach in Morsalines. They have a two-year old boy, Phileus. 

The coziness of the homestead warms me from within and the log fire warm me from without.

Jean Baptiste is a magician and mentalist and has some of the mannerisms of Derren Brown, as he performs his magic tricks and, even more impressively, his "mind reading" performance. 

Next day, the family shows me the beautiful coastline in lower Normandy and we even go out on the family boat for a jaunt around the islands.
 

Caen

This habit of late starts and procrastination mean that I reach Caen after 21:00. The wind has turned it's back on me and is now my daily enemy as I wish for hills to provide some shelter from its breath. There is the feeling of accomplishment in summating even the lowliest hill, but strong headwinds taunt continuously and the struggle has none of the same victorious feeling at the end if the day.

Jeremy and Clara are happy to receive me into their apartment in the centre of town, where talk turns swiftly into the left wing activism that is happening in numerous cities in France. They provide an intelligent insight into what's happening at these demonstrations and the brutality of the police to oppose this peaceful right to protest. 

Rouen

Couchsurfing with philosophy students is a deep experience. Guillaume has found his calling as a philosopher after serving years if training in the army and then a guitar making apprenticeship in England. This is the kind of varied background that provides plenty of subjects for conversation late into the evening and many points of common interest. We enjoy a few 'freshly saved' pizzas and other food to help with my carb deficit from the long bike ride. 

Being philosophy students, they weigh up the pros and cons of attending lessons the next day and decide against this wholly unnecessary participation in organised learning. After all they have 24 hours a week of lessons - positively unheard of by Irish philosophy students.