On the way back

Finished the ride yesterday bathed in sunshine in the beautiful landscape of southern Ireland, quite a difference from the rainstorms earlier in the week. It was such a good day that for a few hours the travails of the road gave way to a glowing sense of achievement and reward - or putting it bluntly, the fantastic road and scenery made me forget about a sensation not dissimilar to getting my scrotum sandpapered for the last few hours.

We were able to get onto the bridge to Mizen Head, but were stopped from getting onto the rock itself by some hippy type who had to shut up early to go and smoke the jazz cigarette that she had just rolled. Any way here is a picture of Gary welcoming you to the marvellous vista...



After a couple of victory pints in Goleen we pitched up for the night in a very nice B&B in Schull (pronounced "skull") and had a fairly stodge-tastic meal at the only restaurant in the world where they don't know what an Irish coffee is. Honestly.

Now on a ferry heading back across the Irish Sea after we realised that due to the extravagant cost of being in the Emerald Isle the only way we were going to be able to afford a night out in Dublin was by busking, petty theft or going on the game. We spent half an hour doing each and ended up with 2 euros, a broken nose and something that Ray is going to have to see a doctor about fairly urgently.

So, probably better to head home. When I get the time a full, stupidly detailed account of the whole trip will appear on here.

Slightly late update

As has been pointed out to me many times one of my greatest skills is apologising. So I'll say sorry for the slightly tardy update of what has been happening thus far...

Tuesday night: Great meal in Sligo after a frankly horrific bike ride in windy rainy weather, banter with some total wanker called Eric in a hotel lounge and a fairly good sleep. My legs hurt a great deal.

Wednesday: I wake up with complete panic that I won't be able to cycle anywhere. Ray motivates me by saying "Sort yourself out you cock - and eat your bloody breakfast". We set off down the N17, then after a fairly windy affair up to Tobercurry the weather perks up and we have a fairly nice run down to Knock (aside from a hill near an airport that goes on for about a month). After enquiries we get some food in the "best place in town" which doesn't really say very much for the state of cuisine in the area. Knock is also home to a famous shrine, Ray goes in to get some affliction or other looked at. We head further south into an entertainingly strong headwind and meet Ray in Tuam. Thats enough for today. Go for an absolutely amazing seafood pizza and nice pints in the lovely Galway. Our hotel isn't lovely though, the room smells of petrol and there's a dodgy nightclub downstairs. Fortunately Ray drowns out the music of the night by snoring in my face. I consider killing him but then decide that we still need someone to drive the car.

Thursday: The others wake up to find me still awake from the night before - at one point I tried to sleep in the bathrooom, but that really was a terrible, terrible idea. I am a zombie at this point. We get in the car in the pissing rain and drive depressingly back up to Tuam in a ridiculous display of honesty. Blast back down to Galway in an hour of speed cycling and very poor attempts at playing the Alphabet game - I am so tired that I can't even think of any swearwords beginning with "E". Rest of the ride down to Limerick leave us wetter than a pair of Otter's pockets. Particularly the shockingly depressing shortcut recommended by a nice lady in a bar in Knock, which takes us up to what may be the windiest, wettest hill in the world. Gary states that prawn related food-poisoning would be more fun. His knee is making overtures of agony so fortunately the glorious descent goes on for quite some time. After stopping in Six Mile Bridge (which had no bridge that I could see) we pitch up for the night at the Bunratty Castle Hotel - which is basically the Overlook from The Shining - they lie to Gary about having a steam room. We go to the oldest pub in Ireland for a Guinness and then have a nice meal before going back to the Overlook for a late whisky in the comfy lounge and hope that we don't get murdered by disturbed writers with axes in the night.

Friday: I wake up in almost certainly the most jovial mood of my 34 years - there is a feature on the TV about a man who gives haircuts to horses - I will laugh about this all day, even now while I'm writing this. Gary is dosing up on painkillers to sooth his shonky knee. The biking starts well with us whipping along at 20mph down to Limerick, across the broad majestic Shannon and on to the N20 down to Croom for an absolutely lovely early lunch of smoked mackerel. Gary's knee requires a bit more attention he goes in to a chemist for some advice. After listening to what we are doing the advice given is "Stop" - this doesn't deter Mr Harvey and after the application of some deep heat and a knee support that Ray picked up earlier (he got me some new pants, which are comfy and, ooh, just supportive enough) he is ready to soldier on. The rest of the ride down to our planned destination takes place on a really shitty stretch of road that does nothing for gary's knee or my, well for any of me really I am getting very tired indeed. Fortunately after some nasty twisty, hilly nastiness it is a quick swoop down to Mallow. Now we are tucked up in the swish Clarion Hotel in Cork on the one day of the year when you can't buy a bloody drink in Ireland.

Super.


I'm still in a brilliant mood though.

Honest.

Gary Speaks: Day Two Update

Here are Gary's exclusive thoughts on today's cycling fun (note how he glosses over his inappropriate behaviour after I was forced to share a double bed with him last night. Mel you have my deep and eternal sympathy):

"Any hopes that the curvature of the earth would assist our ride were dashed
by a 60 mile up hill ride with strong head Winds and heavy rain.

Couple that with sleep deprivation from Duffy and Morton's (who I shared a
bed with to save money) thunder like snoring and you have a days cycling
which lance Armstrong would find tough.

However the two of us lifted each others spirits enough to complete the
ride to sligo and experience a hostel which makes the Bates motel look like
the Hilton.

Guinness and fast food tonight to keep the costs down and early to bed
(without Jim) will see out day 2."

here is a photo of a typical view from today, one of the rare moments when the wind and rain died down to non-monsoon levels:


We are now holed up in a very nice hotel in Sligo having considered taking up a few beds in a cheap hostel which seemed like a cross between a morgue and the set of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.

Off for absolutely loads of food, after really not eating enough today and coming over all faint. Oooh Matron.

First day done

A summary of the first day:
- Set off after a peaceful night of competitive snoring.
- down to malin with me worrying endlessly
- through cardonnagh and up the long gradual slope, into a rainstorm that I wouldn't describe as torrential, but it was definitely on the way to it.
- down a hill and along the coast for breakfast in Muff, yes it was very damp there.
- confusing couple of hours where we went the wrong way repeatedly and up some big bloody hill in a gale. I was absolutely knackered and that was before some total arses tried to send us the wrong way. We were onto their game though.
- a windy, windy time through the likes of St Johnston, Raphoe etc Eventually meeting up with ray in convoy.

Other highlights:
- not understanding a word anyone says
- Gary saying "I don't mind your feeling bad and moaning, but actually I have noticed the fucking wind, you don't need to tell me about that"
- my chain coming off and then me forgetting that my feet were clipped in when I stopped to try and sort it, slight tumble but I wouldn't really class it as falling off.

Here's a picture I took earlier:







Now in Ballybofey planning our assault on Sligo tomorrow so so we don't get lost and so ray doesn't have more lonely backtracking of doom. And there was some bone-crushing hours of silence too apparently.

Arrived at malin head

After a really good journey up from Dublin. With only ray's snoring and semi-conscious talk of "fluffy kittens". We are now in the malin hotel, having checked out our very nice hostel just up the road. We may have a go in the reflexology room later.

Tomorrows ride looks ace, check out this quick bit of scenery...

Waiting for a ferry

Sat in a car in a queue in the lovely welsh port of holyhead, having somehow missed our ferry. Despite getting up at the sort of time that I usually go to bed at. Here is an action shot of what is going on...

Project: Lard - A highlight report

The second Project: Lard, weigh-in (in association with PCM Limited) led to a frankly depressing outcome as you can tell from a quick glance at the chart below. It seems that the incredibly ascetic lifestyle I have been living - the sort of thing that even a particularly dull, vegan, silent monk would probably describe as "way depressing" - has had the net effect of actually making me heavier. Yes. Heavier. Marvellous.

The little ticket from the machine that informed me of my weight, height and BMI, cheerfully advertised that hard-core weight loss products and "Create Your Own Will" kits were available in this very store. I started to sob, put all my clothes back on and left.

But on the other hand, at least I wasn't the member of the team that took the piss and then actually broke the scales in the Warwick branch of Boots.