Farewell to Ireland

Sun in our faces,
daffodils bloom by the way
- Irish spring glory


Finally we are away ! After scrimping, saving and planning for 18months, today is our last day in Ireland. Five days of cycling, 175km from our last permanent address in Dublin and we are in Rosslare Harbour waiting for the ferry to take us to Cherbourg, France.

Where to start - so much to fit on two bikes !

We set off last Friday, late in the morning (not our laziness this time) having completed one last clean up of the flat, inspection passed and deposit banked. The sun was shining ! Wobbling up the N11 from Blackrock was labourious to say the least but the lovely long downhill from Deans Grange was much more fun.

Carrying a lot of weight by necessity (gear for several months on the road) means that we need to get fit and get used to it rather than lose excess – we have already pared everything down to the minimum. Unfortunately it also means that it's going to hurt for the first couple of weeks.

A lot.

A succession of painful hills brought us to an exhilarating downhill run into Greystones – views over sparkling blue bay, blue horizon, beach and town as we came zooming down (even breaking the 50km/h speed limit !) to stop for lunch.

Lunch break in Greystones after a magnificent downhill run.

Meandering south, we stayed in Wicklow the first night at The Grand Hotel, a lovely recently renovated 4 star hotel (we were totally exhausted and the room had a bath). They invited us to bring the bikes in through the main foyer, a grand entrance full of polished timber curlicues and mirrors, redolent of a much earlier golden era. Somewhere you'd expect to see a party in period dress on their way to the grand ballroom, rather than a pair of scruffy cyclists wheeling overladen bikes.

Bikes in the hallway, with a bemused spectator.

Saturday morning, preparing to leave.

From Wicklow we followed the coast road up over Wicklow Head (more painful hills) then along more rolling hills by the Wicklow coast, stopping for a cuppa at a quiet beach near Ardmore point. The location of this beach was disclosed to us in minimal directions by Mark, a fellow cyclist, from Newcastle in whose driveway we happened to be resting the previous day. Thanks Mark, it was a lovely spot for a break.

 

Inquisitive horses wanted to join in our tea break.

Continuing along the rolling coast road, without too much traffic to contend with, even on a Saturday, we passed the popular beach of Brittas Bay with it's attendant eyesore clusters of holiday homes. Unable to find a place to camp, either in a campground (none open) or wild (no shelter from the cold easterly blowing off the sea), we ended up in a B&B in Arklow town for our second night.

Rolling along, north of Arklow, Co. Wicklow.

From Arklow we meandered around smaller and smaller roads, all vaguely heading south, giving us lovely views of the lush dairy country of County Wexford. Once the morning mist cleared, we were treated to another sunny afternoon. Local directions from Ballygarret, Co. Wexford brought us to Old Bawn beach, a stunning sandy stretch at least a few kilometres in length, backed by grassy dunes – a perfect place to camp.

Giant wind turbines along the windy Wexford coast.

Blue skies and sand dunes

seen through the open tent flap

- I am snug in bed.

We passed a peaceful night nestled in the dunes, our only visitors a couple of horse riders out for early morning excercise and a dog walker or two. Awakening to brilliant sunshine, we lazed around camp making the most of the comparative warmth (perhaps 10 degrees) and catching up on some washing – unfortunately some quotidian tasks don't get left behind.

Nestled in the dunes of Old Bawn Beach, Co. Wexford.

A short day's ride for Monday to give our legs a rest – only 13km further south to an open (!) caravan park. Before we arrived, a mist rolled in from the sea (Mull of Kintyre kept popping into my head), closing out the sun and obscuring landmarks.

Niamh from Morriscastle Strand Holiday Park just east of Kilmuckridge was very welcoming and friendly, as was her huge German Shepherd pup, Bear (name says it all really). They give cyclists and walkers free shower tokens – and boy, was that shower powerful and hot and very welcome.

Hearing rain falling on the tent roof that night came as no surprise – 4 days of cycling without rain in Ireland was pushing our luck already, we couldn't expect a fifth. The rain eased before morning but a heavy fog lay over everything, hiding even the huge wind turbines that stretch for several kilometres along the coast between Morriscastle Strand and Old Bawn Beach.

Cycling through the mist,

no views from hilltops today

- wet air on cold skin.

Arriving in Rosslare Harbour after a 50km cycle (our longest day yet) the misty rain had cleared but the onshore breeze was still very cold. The campground, which according to our map was very close to the harbour, was in fact 6km away and we had not the strength nor the inclination to ride any further. So we got ourselves a room in a B&B to relax in warmth and catch up with the world (free Wifi).

As we ate our (huge) meals in a local pub the fog rolled in again, thickening until all that could be seen of the huge ferry docked in the harbour were a couple of lights. Then the rain started.

There are some things we won't miss about this country...

*

images by Neil & words by Gabby