Ireland; South to North and Inside Out - Day 2

There was something of the care home rather than guest home about that B&B, the people were nice though and I liked my fellow resident, [he was a jovial Dublin voluntary worker who was helping out with a big special needs outward bounds holiday at a field centre just outside Tralee]. First target today is Listowel, there is racing on there today, maybe I could watch it. That would lose me the day though, probably not a good idea. It is tempting though. I’m going to have to get there early though to avoid the traffic. Legs are fine but knees hurt a bit. That can’t be good because that’s joints and so only likely to get worse. Still that is definitely blue sky up there, the first I have seen in Ireland – a promising start. Uphill grind of course – my legs already feel like the night’s rest did not happen. If I can get to Listowel and then on to the ferry at Tarbet I will have an enforced break. Weather looking good, I wonder how long my iPod will last. Why didn’t it charge? The charger worked fine for the phone and the connections were fine. I guess I probably have two hours. I’ll try to find another charger somewhere, there must be some sort of Irish equivalent to Currys in most of these towns.

Not much in Listowel, traffic or life generally. iPod is holding out so on to the ferry. The smells, you only notice the strong ones in a car. Yesterday it was pine, now the sea. It’s like Mr Airwick’s wet dream. Shame the road here is so bad, my arse is taking a real pounding, not good for so early in the day. It’s also a shame I couldn’t find where I put my mud guards because I’m pretty sure that is pig shit flicking up now. The smell certainly suggests it is, Mr Airwick won’t like that one so much. The ferry is there, result. It looks like its only cars, please take bikes. Not so keen on the decline down to it, not in cycling shoes, don’t slip, just don’t slip. There is another bike on there, they allow them, I think it is going to be a good day. iPod is still going too. I should stop it while I’m not cycling but my hands are too numb to press the button.

You’re wearing socks and sandals and I am prejudiced against you because of that. But you might be interesting and I don’t have a lot of choice in this because you are going to talk to me. Please be genial eccentric rather than nutter. I have had a good run on meeting interesting people so far, should be ok. Oh, you’re on a cycling holiday too, from Surrey, 18th time in Ireland. The information you potentially have could be very useful to me, but please tell me it without spitting every other word. No, it’s no good. I don’t care what you are telling me the saliva spraying from your yellow teeth has focused my every sense. I don’t know why that includes hearing but it does. We’ve arrived, I need to wash my face, that will give him a chance to go. Oh crap, he’s waiting for me. No I don’t want a coffee, I just want your festering germs off my face. [Having escaped to the café toilets I returned to my bike] he’s still here, but hooray for lonely café staff, he has somebody else to talk to, time to make my excuses, she’s beaten me to it, he wants to know where I’m going – what if he is going the same way and wants to ride with me? Find out his route first. It is the same. Lie. This is like that scene in Bugsy Malone when Blousie is trying to escape Bugsy. This one isn’t ending in a pie fight, a full cast sing-a-long and a trip to Hollywood, go before he does and cycle quickly.

Faster, faster, if he plans to stop in Innis [which was my next target town] then if I can get through there before he catches me I should be fine. Was he r name Blousie? Blousie Brown – sounds like a stale loaf of bread. I can barely even remember if I’ve seen a film these days but still know the script from a film I probably haven’t seen in 20 years. [Turns out I got the name right but the spelling wrong – Blousey].

Nice graveyard, pretty full, standing room only now. Strange seeing as there isn’t a house in sight. Hmm, the graveyard admiration gene that appears to be active within me. I wonder if it is dominant or recessive? I wonder why I wondered. Irish graveyards do look pretty interesting though, but at least I didn’t stop. I daren’t. I’m sure I’ll see another one past Innis. I’ll get a photo – actually that might be a little bit weird. iPod has died. Is that irony? I can’t tell any more.

This weather is so different. It’s really hot. I need to lose the leggings. Where though? this is a green road and all those houses and all those builders. Lissycasey looks like a completely new town, odd place. Ouch, my eye [a wasp had just flown into it], that really hurts. I think it was as shocked as I was – too stunned to sting at least. Maybe I could hide behind a bush or, even better, a random and hideous horse statue. Come on hands, work quicker, I need to get to Innis.

These towns are definitely getting less tourist focused. Innis has no obvious gift shops or wacky green felt hats anywhere. It does have a reasonable proportion of young mum’s. Maybe it should twin with Basingstoke. No problem with bananas but nowhere is selling yoghurt [my scientifically calculated nutritionally balanced lunch each day consisted of 2 bananas, a yoghurt and a bottle of lucozade sport]. Safe now – Spitty will stop here. On to Gort.

Why does it look like I’m joining a motorway – the map definitely said green road. Maybe if I’m stopped the Garda will give me a lift to Gort.

This is the dullest bit of road so far but at least it’s stopped looking like a motorway. Nearly 2.5 times as many people died on the roads of County Galway than County Kerry in the last 4 years, I’m not surprised these are easily the worst drivers yet [this is not a statistic I just happened to know, most of the Counties in Ireland have a board up somewhere telling you this information]. Gort is ugly, this must be the first town not to have won a Tidy Town Medal. So they don’t just hand them out like medals to the children who try hard at school sports days [up to this point just about every town had a sign when you enter it announcing it had won a medal of some description in the Irish Tidy Town competition of 200X] but I don’t care I need to stop for 5 minutes, maybe 10 minutes, my legs really ache. I still have time to get to Loughlea. One last push. Dogs must have innately know not to jump off the back of a moving truck. There’s no way that can have evolved. Not enough time, although the process would be pretty quick seeing as any dog that jumps out is not going to be passing on its genes any time soon.

This hurts. This really hurts. My knees hurt, and that is joint. My arse feels like it has been sandblasted [just to be clear this was a metaphor – I have never had my arse sandblasted] and this road surface is terrible. Oww, avoid the bloody cat’s eyes. I don’t care uphill, downhill just get to Loughrea.

At last, there it is. It looks fantastic. I’d rather it was this side of the Lough but what a great view. Where did the sun go? Blue sky but so cold. There was no sunset – it just vanished. I hope this isn’t cataclysmic, I’d rather the world didn’t end with me wearing cycling shorts and having a sore arse. I assume that they allow you to change before passing through the pearly gates. I bet it has really nice changing rooms and a wide selection of clothes for every taste. I suppose it would have to be a department store. I hope the accessories section is good.

Hmm, Loughrea looks a bit of a let down. I guess it is going to be Chinese again tonight, without question the most disappointing of all Anglicised cuisines (is there an Irish equivalent, gaelicised maybe?)

That meal has done nothing to change my mind. And the fortune cookie is stale, “Be patient and optimistic, you have a strong appeal to the opposite sex”. Nice, clearly they have a special table for one pile.