Morning mist

Spider webs glisten,
the sun shines through morning mist,
blue skies a promise.

* words & photo by Gabby

Creamy cheese and pickles

Apple blossom falls -
white petals across roadway.
We cycle over.

Well, it's been an interesting week. We are currently relaxing in our camp at Genêts on the Baie Mont-St-Michel after a decent day's ride of 48km in lovely warm sun. It was always our intention to travel slowly so we could see, smell and hear the countryside around us - but we've been going even slower than our slow intentions since having a few problems with Neil's bike.

Starting back in Cherbourg, after our glorious (or should I say, stunning) entry into the town we decided to treat ourselves to an hotel and a meal. The Hotel Moderne, a nice little hotel just off the main quai allowed us to lock our bikes in the courtyard while we stayed which was a big plus. A fantastic three course meal at the Hotel Regence completed our splurge - we had to start the trip with some proper Norman cuisine !

We left Cherbourg on a marked cycle route on small roads, it wasn't long before the sun came out and we changed into shorts ! After a few digressions, including a picnic lunch on the Mont-St-Michel pilgrim path, we came to the start of the Voies Vertes - the green ways.

Picnic lunch on the pilgrim path.

The Voies Vertes are specifically for non-motorised transport, bicycles, pedestrians and horses. They cut through the countryside, often along disused rail routes, but can consist of a variety of surfaces. We were riding mostly on firm sandy gravel, which is fine for our mountain bikes but would not be suitable for bikes with thinner tyres (well, not loaded up like we are).

In our mission to taste as many types of cheeses as possible we had to start with a Normandy favourite - lovely creamy Camembert.

Lots of lovely flowers by the road sides, especially these and a sodium yellow primula.

Unfortunately, not even mountain bike tyres are exempt from punctures. Neil had three separate punctures over three days - all on his front tyre, mercifully. Whether from sharp pieces of gravel or blackberry thorns by the side of the road, we aren't sure. Neil is using Schwalbe Land Cruiser tyres and I am using Schwalbe Hurricanes, which have kevlar protection - which may have made the difference.

Neil just loves fixing punctures, especially at the end of a day's ride.

A nice spot for camping sauvage, just off the Voie Verte.

Sign posts at every junction of the Voie Verte.

After our first hot day of riding, the shorts got packed up again for a few days as we were treated to a few days of cooler, wetter weather. Low grey skies and foggy mornings which made it really hard to get going but made for some gorgeous sunsets.

Lots of birdlife around from sparrows to pheasants, even the occasional merlin.

Spring blossoms everywhere.

The things you see...and no, we didn't try it.

Old stone stable by the way.

Bridge bombed by the Allies in 1944.

 ...And then it all went pear shaped.

Leaving our campsite in Montmartin-sur-Mer (where we had stopped to check out a climbing area mentioned by a friendly camper in Coutances), a steep uphill grind back to the road, Neil calls out to me "My bike is stuffed".

Actually he didn't, but there may be children reading and for those of you who know Neil, you can fill in the appropriate versatile word. Or two.

This is not what a crank set should look like !

The pressure on the lowest gear had bent the gear so far the pedal could not go around. Time to push. We pushed into the village, made some enquiries and found someone in the next village who may be able to help.

So I rode and Neil pushed and freewheeled the couple of kilometres to Hauteville-sur-Mer, a lovely little seaside holiday spot (mostly deserted at this time of year) and waited around until the local man who hired bikes in summer could return to help us out. He managed to bend the plate back with a few judicious smacks of the hammer and repair the chain so we could at least ride on to a larger town to get a replacement.

Also giving us advice on what roads in the area were more bicycle friendly (there being no Voies Vertes on this part of the Cotentin Peninsula). He even complimented us on our French (??). Neil thinks he was being sarcastic, but I think of it as more of an encouragement.

La pêche à pied - fishing on foot for molluscs on the beach at Hauteville-sur-Mer.

Trotters training on the beach, Hauteville-sur-Mer.

So now, we are on the way to Avranches to find a bike mechanic to fix Neil's bike. Failing that, the parts so we can do it ourselves. A mechanic will be much quicker, but we'll see what happens...

Le Mont-St-Michel, our first glimpse.

* words by Gabby & images by Neil and Gabby

Bienvenue á Cherbourg...

Arriving in France
Rolling through wet Cherbourg streets
Thanks a heap, Jason...

So, we arrived in Cherbourg this afternoon, finally off the hot, stuffy ferry, rolling through streets wet with earlier rain, thinking how great this is, when Gabby hit a slippery curb on a corner and came tumbling down. Thankfully, only a scraped knee and some minor holes in the front pannier, but still the first spill of the trip.

And by the way, don't feel guilty at all Jason, what with your last comment and all... we would never say you jinxed us, eh?!

Gabby's knee looking all colourful

Recovering in our hotel room

Gabby's on-the-fly repair work - it's amazing what you can do with a puncture kit.

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Words and pics by Neil, impromptu stunt-work (and pannier pic) by Gabby

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...

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images by Neil & words by Gabby

Dry Run

Morning - blue skies, sun.
As we ride, dark clouds gather,
winds whip, hail stings - spring.


Well, this being Ireland, it was never going to be a completely dry run. But that was the whole idea - to put our newly aquired gear through it's paces before heading off into the wide blue yonder in just less than 4 weeks time.

Saturday morning was glorious - so naturally we spent most of it sleeping in. By the time we breakfasted and packed the bikes up (or should I say, loaded the bikes down) it was midday.

No matter - we were only planning a short jaunt into the hills. A couple of hill climbs (one inadvertant - I didn't notice the contour lines on the map amongst the urban sprawl when planning our route - sorry Neil) , a bit of meandering around the countryside south of Dublin, then a quiet camp in the forest on Glencullen Mountain.

Fitting the new lights.

Neil's bike, almost fully loaded.

Lunch stop by a forestry work site.

Of course, the first rain shower hit as we stopped for lunch just uphill from Kilternan. As we stopped and took in the view (the nice one, out to sea, not the one of clear-felled mess) we were treated to an education in Irish Forestry by an elderly gentleman who was leaving his plantation for the day. He planted the Sitka spruce you can see in the top of the above photo in 1969. The forest he is currently harvesting he planted in 1955 (when he was 29). He advised us to invest in forestry.

And yes, the view was worth the climb - that's Killiney Hill we are looking down on.

Once through Glencullen, resisting the allure of a warming break in the pub we headed for the Boranaralty Bridge over the Glencullen river, and the Wicklow Way. At the turn for the bridge, there were large red signs announcing the bridge closure. As the chilly rain turned to stinging hail, we debated what to do.

There was no other cyclable way to our planned campsite (a spot we had previously seen while walking a section of the Wicklow Way). As the hail eased back into rain we decided to go down the hill to the bridge, to see if there was still pedestrian access (and therefore bicycle) - on the strength that there was no signage stating that the Wicklow Way was closed.

Our hunch proved correct and while there was no car access, the workmen kindly allowed us through after only a couple of minutes wait for them to finish gravelling one particular section.

Then it was uphill again on ever worsening paths, over two locked gates. Yes, over. This fun manoeuver involves fully unloading the bikes then passing both bikes and 8 panniers (4 each) plus assorted bits and pieces over the 5' high gates before reassembling and continuing. Times two. I had remembered one gate, but not the second. They don't have quite the same importance when you are on foot.

Character building, I guess.

Looking down on Boranaraltry from the second gate.

Uphill push on loose gravel from the second gate.

Cosy campsite overlooking Glencullen.

Finally, fingers freezing, bodies tired and cold, we arrived at our destination - a small clearing between trees with a tumbledown stone building, overlooking Glencullen and Two Rock Mountain, first seen when foraging for mushrooms a couple of years ago.

Our new green tent - a bit less noticeable than the orange one !

Tent up, time for food and drink.

Comfy in my armchair, with a warming hot chocolate.

Cool skies as the sun sinks.

Last rays of the dying sun.

Things we learnt about our new gear:

- The Altura Pocket Rocket lightweight waterproof jacket was worth every cent. It withstood showers light and heavy as well as hail. As a lightweight layer it also kept the chill winds at bay.

- Our new tent, the Vango Spirit 200+ stands up to lashing rain and wind but the small ventilation windows you can't close let in an awful lot of breeze when the wind chill is taking temperatures down below zero (we stuffed the scrunched up pocket rockets into them and solved that problem). It has an amazingly large vestibule great for storing gear and for cooking out of the freezing wind.

- It is possible to light the MSR Dragonfly stove with flint and steel when your half box of matches gets used up trying to light the stove in gale force winds (did I simply forget the spare box of matches or was it my inner cave girl taking over insisting we didn't really need them ?).

- I am never going camping again without a Thermarest Trekker chair. After a tiring day walking or riding the last thing you want to do is relax on a hard rock or squat using those tired knees. This is really amazing.

- And no gourmet camping venture would be complete without our new lightweight kitchen. Our new MSR Quick 2 pot set and skillet helped create last night spiced couscous with stir fried vegetables and tuna. Yum. OK, the oversized apple pancake got a bit messy this morning, but it tasted great.

- Old Man Mountain Ultimate Lowrider front racks - we only mounted these on the bikes last week-end and this was our first trip using front and back panniers. These racks are mounted through the front wheel hub and onto the front brake brackets, leaving room for front suspension. It took a few minutes to get used to the change in set up - more weight at the front means heavier steering but it was better than having all the weight at the rear going up those nasty Wicklow hills. Once used to the different handling, the racks were great, low enough not to affect your centre of gravity but not so low you bottom out on the rougher off-road bits. Another happy choice.

And that's about it. Happy with our new gear, ready for our vagabonding days...


words by Gabby, images by Neil
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Almost

Amongst blown branches
fresh shoots emerge, tips swollen -
green life from brown mud.



Almost, the first daffodil is opening under the bare trees to the front of our house. There is a little blue flower already.

Last week gales raged around Ireland, felling branches and trees, there was no point in cycling, it was hard enough walking with wind battering from every direction.

This week, everything has softened. Green shoots are sprouting through the mud every which way you turn. I saw a solitary bee, laden with pollen, hovering lazily around the first cherry blossoms. Rain drips softly from branches swollen with buds.

Soon.


words & images Gabby
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Bargains and Bartering

Cold dull days, long nights,
The foment of ideas
that spring will see bloom.


We are up to plan D.

The fourth major structural change to our upcoming journey. The umpteenth minor change.

Long dark nights revising plans, researching, refining and adjusting. It doesn't matter what form our journey takes - as long as it takes place. Notice given at work, minds constantly ticking over. What to take, what to send, what to sell, catching up with everyone before we leave.

Priorities have changed. Snowboard and skis became a new soft shell jacket for Neil. Mandolin and guitar transmogrified into our new tent (a Vango Spirit 200+ which is a couple of kilo lighter than our old faithful Mountain Hardware Trango 2 that we are sending back to Australia). Pot plants and picture frames swapped for an Ipod (thanks Vicki).

So much stuff - and it's only just the beginning...

All we need now is for someone to give us a new netbook and a wide angle lens in exchange for the car...

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