Ireland; South to North and Inside Out - Day 3

That was a very experienced B&B owner. Absolutely lovely and had staged the house to be a perfect balance of personal house and guest house. Everything ran like clockwork and breakfast was set up so you did not need to ask for anything. I wonder why that American couple didn’t talk to me at breakfast. I wonder why they didn’t talk to each other. Breakfast was enormous again. Portion sizes have been massive at every meal so far. One dish in a restaurant will comfortably feed two. Maybe that is where it all went wrong in America. The Irish emigrated, taking with them their generosity with food. The Americans were too polite to say turn it down and the result, obesity.

My muscles feel pretty good but my right knee is hurting a lot. Target town is Athlone, the weather looks like it could go either way. Starting on a green road, it’s maroon and white flags around here but hurling rather than football and I guess they won judging by last night [whilst I was having one of the two pints of Guiness I would allow myself each night a convoy of cars, police and a large coach went past the pub with a lot of flag waving and horn beeping. The locals glanced, made a sardonic comment and returned to their pints]. I have no idea what Comagie is but they have also reached the final of that. [The Internet has not been very helpful on this, not even the ever reliable Wikipedia, but it looks like it’s just a different name for hurling]

My knee really is struggling. This is bad. I’m going to have to see how this goes but will have to be careful, it’s not worth long term damage. Ballinasloe looks nice. It also means I am out of Galway, into Roscommon. I trust my chances of safety on the roads are better here. National Ploughing Championship taking place here in 2 weeks time. Could I enter that?

Maybe the knee strain is because I put the saddle back too high. I’ll lower it next time I stop. It’s raining, I’ll stop now. “Last garage to the motorway” – what motorway? The map doesn’t show a motorway anywhere near here. This could be trouble. I know Athlone has a dual carriageway and I need to go on that but not a motorway. Actually that dual carriageway is more than dual, it does look like a motorway. I need junction 4 and there is no alternative. The next target town is Cavan.

County Longford, 21 deaths in 4 years, I like those odds. Ballymahon for lunch, not much of a place but it has a one-stop shop so no yoghurt issues today.

Since stopping for lunch my knee is agony. I could cry. If it stays like this thgen it is the end. What a place for it to happen, or more precisely what a non-place for it to happen. There is nowhere really between here and Cavan, I have to get to Cavan and that must be at least 30 miles. Maybe that First Aid kit has paracetamol, it does, that might help. I’m not really sure what it does but I hope it blocks pain or magically stops it. I think lowering the seat was a mistake, I’ll put it back. What does that sign say 40km to Cavan, what’s that in miles? Oh, crap – I could be hitchhiking if this gets any worse. Only about 2 hours still to go. Just keep going. Wow, cat’s eyes look a lot like Wall-E’s head.

That sign said Longford has had 23 deaths. I wonder which is correct. Either way the statistics must be pre-quarry traffic because they are terrifying me. Granard seems to be the quarry town so I should be safe when I’ through here. Shit, that was cl….he’s got a trailer [if my bike hadn’t been serviced just before leaving there would at this point have been the sound of squeaking brakes and skidding] You prick, is my dayglo yellow top not bright enough for you to see? I don’ want to become just a number on a board at a County boundary. Even that legacy only lasts 4 years and then you can be scrubbed from the records forever.

1.5 hours, just keep going. This musty be the longest version of The Magic Number ever. I really need to get that iPod sorted.

1 hour to go and the left knee seems to be giving out too. I thought the road would get flatter as I moved inland but this is constant up and down. So slow now. Holstein/Friesians [in checking spelling I have uncovered a whole world I did not know about as to the breed name of the black and white cows so common on farms] are the flightiest cows, they run from me whilst the others stand and watch with their patronising, pitying eyes.

Half an hour, twenty minutes. I’m going to make this. I can see a church spire. And this is Cavan. Not since that nightclub in Reading spun it’s last block rocking beat has Utopia looked so shit. I don’t feel very safe here. It is all locals and the restaurants just look rubbish. This town is sort of Roddy Doyle meats Irvine Welsh. I can’t do Chinese again and it will take more than this to get a kebab in my mouth so I guess it is Indian by default.

[At dinner] This is not looking promising. You don’t know what lager you sell, you’ve just put “Last Christmas” on the hi-fi, you are telling me that an Irish Naan is exactly the same as plain Naan despite it costing €2 more than the plain Naan you have on the menu. I wish there was an alternative and then I could just leave. Although that would involve walking and my knee is not in favour of that. I’m not sure I can do tomorrow. Average speed and distance are definitely going to be down. 89 miles today but I don’t know how. I can’t stay in Cavan, it’s the Ireland that the tourist board doesn’t want you to see. Which is fair because it’s also the Ireland that tourists don’t want to see.