It's now 6:00pm and we ensconsed in the fine Y Garth B&B
in Bangor, Wales. Our room is on the top floor with an
interesting view of the neighbours roof. It had a kawasaki ZX12
parked outside so we decided it was worth a look.
But to recap on the days events.
We left Durham at about 10:00 this morning in blazing sunshine
and headed for the Dales, as this by far the most interesting
route - provided you like quite roads with lots of bends. The
place was looking incredibly beautiful, something it's just too
easy to overlook when the Dales are virtually on your doorset.
Tigger is behaving a bit oddly with all the luggage on, so it's
up one on the rear preload and damping which has sorted things
out just fine thank you very much.
Somewhere in deepest Wales
From here we picked up the M6/M56 to get the boring bit out of
the way. This leads us into Wales and a place called Mold whose
claim to fame (or at least it should be) is that it is the start
of the A541. This is a gem of a road, brilliant surface and loads
of nice sweepy corners that send you, knackered but grinning,
back onto the A55.
Soon we leave this to visit Conwy, where we get lost and leave
via some mountainous and incredibly pretty backroad. Here we come
across a tasty Triumph Speedtriple on bright green, but parked
half into the road on a tight blind bend. Wonder if someone has
crumped it yet?
What a good start to us hols...
And it got better, went into town for some grub and found a good
pub, the Black Bull, serving excellant food and beer.
Next morning our host did us proud with a superb veggie breakfast
with a much extra coffee and toast as we could wish for.
Excellant place, highly recommended, and all for £37.
Having taken our leave of Y Garth we followed the old A5 road towards Hollyhead with a detour to look at the quite beatiful beach at Trearddur. A swim was ever so tempting due to the continuing baking hot sunshine, however time did not allow this friviolity.
It's big and it's fast and it gets you to Dun Laoghaire in bugger all time.
The Stenaline Ferry to Dun Laoghaire is a beaut, well on the
outside, once you get down to the nitty gritty it's much like any
other boat. But way faster and smoother, but you still get your
pants taken down if you buy the food...
Once into Dun Laoghaire it is traffic chaos all the way to
Wicklow where we bail out of the N11 to take to coast road the
rest of the way to Arklow and the Bridge Hotel. Our room in on
the top floor overlooking the street and roof opposite.
By the time we had got ourselves sorted Janice, Tracey, George
and Rose had appeared, parked, unloaded, banged on our door and
got the first round in. Can my liver withstand another week with
the Manx pissheads?
A walk into town resulted in my first encounter with Irish
cuisine, a veggie mix of deepfried onion rings, garlic mushrooms,
cheesie nuggets, spring roles, chips and a chilli source to dip.
Mmmm I can feel my cholesteral level rising... This is washed
down with more beer.
A rather spiffing looking Triumph triple spotted in Carlow.
Although it's starting sunny, it's gonna rain later, but till then we will play. So after a huge breakfast we pack up and head off towards Avoca, Ballikiss Angel to the rest of you. The R752 twists and turns so Lindsey and I shoot ahead to have a play and arrive in Avoca well before the others whereupon we get told off and warned against riding too fast on unpredictable Irish roads. It seems they have bumps and gravel and stuff. I'm from Darlington for fucks sake where the roads are all signed in brail.
Avoca, and Fitzgerald's Pub. It was shut.
The next stop is just up the road at the Meeting of the Waters
for a coffee and walk about.
In a fit of wild optimism we decided we can cross Ireland by the
backroads. Two and half hours later we're about 30 miles further
west in Carlow and realise it's about time we got on the main
roads. The N80 and N7 soon whip us across the country, into some
rain and into Limerick just in time for the rush hour. Oh goody.
After a little point'n'squirt traffic busting madness we're out
of the city and into County Clare, the rain is easing and we're
all knackered. Still we're booked ahead and arrive at the Station
House B&B in Ennistymon by early evening. There are only two
floors, but Lindsey and I are upstairs down the furthest reaches
of the corridor.
A visit to the cafe in town provides dinner and then it's into a
pub and I have my first pint of the real Black Stuff. It tastes
so nice I have several more and we end the night howling with
laughter listening to real music. A very good night.
My very first pint of Guinness.
Today was a chllin' sort of day. We did the touristy bit,
popped out for a look at the Cliffs of Mora, pootled round the
coast road, blatted over Corkscrew Hill - which is not as good as
it sounds, but it did give us a chance to have a bit of a blast.
And the evening was again spent eating and drinking in some more
brilliant Irish pubs. Believe me, the "Irish Pubs" we
get back in England is, like the Guinness, a very poor imitation
of the real thing.
The Cliffs of Mora and serveral thousand miles of water in the background.
From Ennistymon to Westport in blazing sunshine through some
of the most stunning scenery Ireland has to offer.
But first lets recap to a moment following breakfast this morning.
People are starting to load their bikes in preparation for the
journey when I notice Rose fiddling with her gear lever. By the
time I've finished loading she's still on all fours facing Mecca
and fiddling with her lever (err, you know what I mean). Helpfull
as ever I walk over, "I can't get the neutral light to come
on" wails the wench pittifully. I kindly turn on her
ignition...
(We where made to promise to not reveal this particular
incompitance so you haven't read it here).
Once north of Galway city we took to the N59 for the rest of the
journey. This road loops round the Twelve Pins (a range of
mountains) and the Maumturk Mountains in Connemara, all the while
getting more and more interesting.
The views are stunning, the twists and turns of the road
challenging, and the combination of poor surface and loose gravel,
er, bottom clenching. Bloody good fun though. The last section
from Leeane is particularly silly, by the time we reach Westport
we're all grinning like idiots. Janice had the hardest of it been
two up with luggage on the VFR, the moral of the storey is do it
solo. (Stop sniggering at the back there).
Down by the seafront we check into the Helm Inn and again Lindsey
and I find ourselves up four fights of stairs to our room. Why, I
don't know.
Once the luggage is dumped and the bikes parked up, secure and
off the road, we all meet in the bar for a well deserved Guinness.
Poor Janice. All that scratchin', two up and loaded with
luggage was just too much for her nervous system and she was
reduced to the quivering wreck you see above.
Or perhaps it was the second gallon of the black stuff.
Later, changed and showered we meet again in the restaurant for dinner before checking out another pub. We end up back at the Helm with the promise of live music, which turns out to be utter crap. One man + guitar = live music, once he adds a taped backing track to the equation it becomes bollox.
Today started soggy and cold, so after breakfast Lindsey and I
took a walk into town and by the time we got back the sun had
come out to play. Nowt for it but to get the bikes out and head
for Achill Island. And here we find one of Irelands great secrets
- R319 from Mulrany to Achill Sound, it's twisty, smooth and
largely gravel free. Yum.
From the Sound we head out to Achill Island and end up at Keel (?)
Bay which is extremely pretty and accessed by a little road that
twists up and round the mountain overlooking the sea. Beware of
sheep though...
Back later we all taxi'ed into town, had a stonking veggie pizza
and some beer a brilliant little pub near the village square.
Then we went of to find some diddly-diddly music, the town was
heaving with kids so we gave up and looked for a taxi. Not easy,
so L and I set off to walk and lo and behold heard the sound of
fiddles from a McRooneys pub - so in we went for a quick one.
Westport town centre.
Woke up to clouds but no rain. So after another huge breakfast
we're off back east, behind us big black clouds which easily
outrun and eventually top in Finnea to look for a B&B. No
luck, shame cos it's a gorgeous village with a village monument
to Slasher. This warrior with 100 men held off a force of 1000
Cromwellian troops to hold the Bridge of Finnae, he was
eventually slain by a gigantic Scottish fighter who thrust his
sword through Slashers cheek, slasher gripped it in his teeth and
slew the Scot so they died together. But the bridge was held.
Gripping stuff!
On the advice of the pub landlord we headed for the Crover House
Hotel on Lough Sheelin to slum it for our final night.
After saying our goodbyes Lindsey and I set off to see how
earlier ferry we can catch and promptly almost crash at the first
corner.
The rest of the ride towards Dublin is quite easy, and the M1
ringroad is easy to find and takes round most of the city towards
Don Laoghaire. However Euro funding seems to have run out and the
final couple of miles to the ferry terminal is best accomplished
with a compass.
We wait around and eventually get back on the Stenaline HSS for
the trip back to Wales. As it's still quite early we press on and
eventually run out of steam in Lancashire and resort to a motel
for the night.
So a good holiday.
Our intrepid heroes in a pub in Ennistymon
Roads signs that read "Slow", "Slower" and
"Very Slow"
The roads are bumpy but not as bad as your lead to believe.
The main N roads are brill, imagine an A road with a hard
shoulders.
The driver on the N roads are curtious and will often pull over
to the hard shoulder to let others pass.
The drivers in majors towns and cities are a psychotic and ill-manored
as anywhere else.
There are very few bikes in Ireland, whenever you park up expect
to be the centre of attention. Be warned not all parents can tell
the difference between a climbing frame and a motorcycle.
There are very few speed cameras in Ireland, although most roads
have natural built in speed limiters.