Avoiding Potholes – Page 2 – Avoiding Potholes

Around and round and up and down we go again

Thanks to you we’ve twisted and are now safely in Tasmania. Phew!

I loved all your comments, many thanks for your support. Much to my surprise the vote was almost unanimous, with just one (male) exception! I can’t agree more that we should get away from those long roads and huge trucks. It was also great to hear about the highlights of Tasmania from those of you who have already been here.

Let’s twist again
Like you did last summer
Yeah, let’s twist again
Like you did last year
Well, around and round and up and down
We go again
Come on baby make me know you love me so again
Chubby Checker

By the time we boarded the ferry Andy was genuinely excited about going to Tasmania and our new adventure ahead.

We’ve been arguing about what constitutes a journey. The English Oxford Dictionary says it’s ‘travelling from one place to another’ and this is Andy’s argument too … you have to go from A to B.

But in my opinion it’s just as valid to go ‘around and round’ from A to A. If you lay out a piece of string along our route through Tasmania it looks like a circle. But if you pull that string tight it becomes a straight line which makes it a journey!

What have I let myself in for? Tasmania is actually a much bigger challenge than Melbourne to Sydney. Mountains dominate the western side of the island but there are some serious hills in the North East too.

Lots of ‘up and down to go again’!

I honestly don’t think Andy realised how difficult it was going to be. He kept telling me that Tasmania was “only about the same size as Wales”. I was so confident it was bigger that I made a bet with him … and even upped the stakes.

It turns out TASMANIA IS OVER 3 TIMES BIGGER THAN WALES!

What turned out to be our warm-up ride out of Melbourne and back again took us 380km with over 4000m of climbing. And due to the bush fires we never did make it to Wilsons Promontory so took an inland route instead.

We reached the point of no return in a tiny village called Koonwarra, which lies on the 72km Victoria Southern Rail cycling trail. If we’d turned right down the trail we’d have gone to Sydney. Left to go back to Melbourne.

Thankfully it had one of the nicest cafes we’ve ever cycled past so at least we had good coffee to help make the decision.

We turned left and were soon heading west along this quiet and delightful trail.

Sadly, it didn’t last!

In his efforts to avoid the main highway, Andy took us cross-country on some quieter country roads that he’d spotted on ViewRanger. Some of these were nice but others turned out to be the dreaded gravel ripio, built for the remote Victorian faming community. It was a nasty reminder of some parts of Chile.

They were so corrugated that at one point both Andy’s panniers crashed off the back of his bike as he careered over some bumps too quickly.

While he was picking them up, a lovely local lady in a big 4×4 stopped to ask me “what on earth we were doing there?” She’d never seen anyone trying to ride a bike on these roads before.

In contrast to the searing temperatures of a few days earlier, the weather that day was decidedly cool and very windy.

Storms blew up out of nowhere. One minute, we were happily cycling along. A few seconds later we’re sheltering in a hedge from gale force winds and scarily large hail stones. The storms passed quickly but did not add to the fun in any way.

During our tour of Victoria, I’d noticed that so many places are named after English towns. We’ve been to Brighton, Sandringham, Cheltenham, Hampton, Hastings and Shoreham to name but a few. Phillip Island must have originally been settled by folk from the Isle of Wight … Cowes, Rhyll and Ventnor.

Now we’re in Tasmania, I’m looking forward to visiting Launceston, Exeter, Derby, St Helens and Swansea.

Clare

Clare is often right and she certainly was this time! Already I’m loving Tasmania and looking forward to exploring this fascinating island.

Thanks for helping me see that it’s more important to relax and have fun than to complete a journey!

Andy

Stick or Twist?

We have a mutiny on our saddles.

True … it’s not quite on the scale of Fletcher Christians Mutiny-on-the-Bounty, but it is a mutiny just the same.

After months of researching the route from Melbourne to Sydney, of downloading vast numbers of maps from ViewRanger, of checking how many climbs, how many kilometres each day … Clare has suggested we might cycle 1200km (750 miles) around Tasmania instead.

And we’ve even cycled towards Sydney for a couple of days!

Like many people before her, Clare was inspired by a boat. It was the sight of The Spirit of Tasmania ferry chugging out of Melbourne harbour that got her thinking …

It’s a bloody long way to Sydney … and she’s not training for an Ironman.
People telling us that Tasmania is their favourite part of Australia.
Andy’s near miss with a ‘road-train’ truck.

The road-train incident was genuinely scary. On a narrow country road, one of these massive beasts passed within a few inches of Andy at extremely high speed, causing him to wobble dangerously in it’s wake.

Had the driver bothered to look at the angry cyclist in his rear view mirror, it’s fair to say he would have had no doubt about how Andy felt.

A ‘Double’ Road Train. Credit: Scott Bourne

Cycling in Australia seems to be more challenging than other countries we’ve toured through.

Cities are brilliant with loads of dedicated cycling lanes. But outside the cities there’s often only one busy main road between distant towns. There isn’t the network of quiet country roads that cyclists love.

On our travels, we’ve found the Irish to be the most patient drivers with cyclists. So far I’m afraid we’ve found Australians to be amongst the least tolerant, often seeing no need to slow down or deviate even slightly.

This is particularly true of truck drivers … they ‘own the road’ and they know it. To be fair, they don’t pass many foolhardy touring cyclists on their long, dull journeys.

But it seems that snakes and spiders are not our biggest danger after all.

It’s the truck drivers!

Riding out of Melbourne was beautiful, gliding around Port Phillip Bay on a lovely coastal cycle path. It was easily the hottest day we’ve ever experienced on a bike, peaking at over 40°C (104°F). We both drank more than 6 litres of water but still didn’t need to pee for 24 hours. When we stopped for lunch we just wanted to rub ourselves down with towels and ice cubes.

After 70km of sweaty peddling, we were very happy to board the small, local ferry across to Phillip Island and cool down in the gentle sea breeze.

Phillip Island is home to the nightly Penguin Parade. Hundreds of Little Penguins, just one foot tall, commute back to their burrows at dusk after a busy day fishing. It was delightful to see these cute little creatures tumbling out of the sea and waddling back to their mates.

Little Penguins Credit: Phillip Island Nature Parks

As we rode along the coast the next day, we began to appreciate how big and dry Australia is. We noticed a huge cloud forming inland. It turned out this was caused by a number of bushfires merging together. They are often started by lightening strikes from the dry storms (no rain) that build up in the intense heat.

It’s an increasing and dangerous problem across Australia.

One such lightening strike had hit Wilson’s Promontory National Park, one of the most spectacular parts of the Victorian coastline and a highly anticipated highlight on our ride to Sydney.

The resulting bushfire meant that 300 campers had to be evacuated. It’s serious enough to keep the park closed for two weeks but we’re glad to say that the fire looks like it will be controlled before it causes to much damage to this pristine wilderness.

Instead, we stayed an extra night at a lovely campsite in Inverloch, just metres from a beautiful, empty beach that led out to a wide estuary.

The camping has been great. The equipment is working well and we’re relishing the outdoor life that we miss when we only stay in hotels or B&B’s.

Because of the bushfire, we’re now no longer going to Wilsons Promontory. But where are we going? Sydney or Tasmania?

Here are Clare’s arguments for a tour around Tasmania:

It’s one of the great cycling destinations … lots of people cycle around Tasmania and very few cycle from Melbourne to Sydney (there must be a reason for that!)
The scenery is stunning
We’ve never been there
We’ll have two trips on an iconic ferry
It’s great for camping
It won’t be as hot and sweaty for cycling
There are less long, dull roads
There are less big trucks
There are less snakes and spiders
The bushfire on Wilsons Promontory was a bad omen

And here are Andy’s arguments for cycling to Sydney:

It’s the original plan
It’s a proper journey (not a circle)
It might be a bit cold in Tasmania

What do you think we should do? Should we stick or twist?

Clare and Andy

Cycling Down Under

“How about a cycling adventure on every continent?”

“What, even the really cold ones?”

“No, no … of course not. We’ve cycled in Europe and South America. How about Asia, Australasia, Africa, North America? Think how amazing that would be.”

We were sitting in a restaurant in Puerto Montt last March, at the end of our 1,478km trip through the centre of Chile and across the Andes to Argentina.

To be completely honest, Clare’s new found adventurous spirit came as a bit of a shock. It was only the week before that, after hours of grinding along the famous South American ripio (gravel roads), she’d emphatically declared that she was NEVER EVER going on a bike tour again!

It’s amazing what a large glass of wine and a sense of achievement can do.

So here we are in Australia, in Melbourne to be precise.

Our plan is to cycle to Sydney through 1600km (1000 miles) of remote countryside and coast roads.

Why have we chosen Australia?

Because our son, Chris, is studying in Melbourne for a year so it’s a great opportunity to visit him and tick off another continent at the same time. Our daughter Sarah was able to join us for a couple of weeks and the four of us had great fun together exploring the Great Ocean Road, the Barossa Wine Valley, the Grampians and Adelaide … travelling in the relative comfort of a huge motorhome.

*Camping with Kanaroos in the Grampians*

Now it’s time for the cycling … and the camping. You may recall that we experimented with camping during our car-biking trip to Ireland in August using some heavy, old gear.

It wasn’t an unqualified success as it was very cold and windswept. Andy barely slept as every airbed he had pulled out of the corner of the garage deflated during the night.

But we’ve taken the plunge and invested in some super-lightweight camping gear. A lightweight tent, 2 lightweight mats, 2 lightweight sleeping bags plus a lightweight stove, pots and pans, plates etc. etc.

It turns out that super-lightweight equals super-expensive so we will have to camp at least half the nights, just to make our investment worthwhile.

Does a plan to complete a bike ride on every continent make us proper touring cyclists? There’s no getting away from it … proper touring cyclists camp.

The biggest challenge has been squeezing all this extra gear into two panniers each. There’s a lot less room for the other stuff. Clare has found this particularly frustrating but she has reduced and reduced and then reduced some more … even decanting a few toiletries into tiny bottles and spices into small bags.

Regular readers of this blog will be pleased to hear that some old favourites are still with us. Andy’s favourite cycling shorts have been carefully repaired so no longer need safety pins to hold them up and Clare has bought a new, smaller hair roller … although it’s still a poor substitute for the lightweight solar powered hairdryer that she’d really like.

Before we came here, lot’s of people warned us that it can be difficult to bring bikes into the county. The government are rightly cautious about the risk of soil diseases entering Australia on dirty bike tyres. We heard horror stories of bikes being stripped down in customs and each part being soaked in a powerful detergent.

This meant that we were more than a little nervous when we picked up our bikes at the airport and headed for customs. But no worries! Just a cheery … “Have you given them a wash then mate?” … and we were waved through.

We’ve also been warned about the notorious creepy crawlies, especially camping in remote places.

Apparently the whole country is writhing with highly venomous snakes that harbour a particular hatred for both cyclists and campers. And poisonous spiders that love to lurk under a saddle waiting for a juicy bottom.

It’s true … Australia is home to 21 of the world’s 25 most venomous snakes and a whole range of poisonous spiders. Andy has promised to shake out the shoes and check under the saddles every morning.

*It’s* *not only snakes and spiders that are dangerous*

Since arriving in Melbourne, we’ve noticed that people talk about the weather almost as much as we Brits do. They proudly tell us that it changes so often, they regularly experience all four seasons in a single day.

Right now we’re enjoying perfect blue skies every day. But with huge changes in temperature. One day it’s a pleasant 24°C (75°F), perfect for late summer. The next day the mercury shoots up to a sweltering 38°C (100°F)!

That’s really hot, for mad dogs and Englishmen!

Apparently, the high pressure that’s sitting over this part of Australia nudged over a bit towards New Zealand. This caused the winds to switch around. Instead of drifting up from the cool southern ocean they blew down from the red hot centre.

It’s set to stay that hot for the next few days which means we’ll be cycling out of Melbourne towards Philip Island and Wilsons Promontory in a furnace.

Maybe the heat will do us in before the deadly critters?

Clare and Andy

Goodbye Galway Girls & Danny Boys

The Irish have a great talent for making a lot out of a little.

As we drove to Rosslare to catch our ferry back home, we couldn’t help but smile at a sign announcing ‘President Obama’s Ancestral Village’. This is Moneygall where a young man called Falmouth Kearney lived before he emigrated to the United States in 1850. He was Obama’s maternal great-great-great-grandfather.

Now this might seem like a distant connection to you and me but for Moneygall it’s enough for a visitor centre called the Barack Obama Plaza and the preservation of a terraced house as his ancestral home.

We found a similar story when we stayed in New Ross on our first night in Ireland. Birthplace of John F Kennedy’s great-grandfather, it now boasts a Kennedy homestead, Kennedy museum, Kennedy arboretum, Kennedy summer school and Kennedy hotel.

As far as we know, there isn’t a Trump visitor centre in Ireland yet … just an ostentatious golf course and luxury hotel that took us a long time to cycle past.

During our last two days on the Wild Atlantic Way, we cycled from Doolin to Galway, staying overnight in the lovely small town of Kinvara.

This took us through the Burren, one of the finest examples of a glacio-karst landscape in the world. Huge limestone sheets have been eroded by glaciers and then by rainwater which gets into any cracks and crevices.

The effect is dramatic. Limestone pavements with perfect parallel lines sit beneath smooth hills that are strewn with so many rocks that they appear from a distance to be sugar coated with snow.

The name Burren comes from the Gaelic Boíreann which simply means a rocky place. Many years ago, farmers cleared all the rocks from the fields, piling them into a striking mosaic of dry stone walls.

The walls go right down to sea, sometimes running across vast limestone pavements. Cattle were brought down onto the flat rocks for winterage, as they held onto the summer heat for longer encouraging the grass in the crevices to keep growing.

Galway turned out to be a vibrant city with a lively centre full of small shops, restaurants and music bars, all buzzing with people chatting away in Gaelic. So much so that it’s often referred to as the bilingual capital of Ireland.

There were lots of amusing shop signs, including a trading notice outside this jewellers…

And a special offer from this café…

To our surprise, the highlight of our visit to Galway was an extraordinary show that’s been entertaining tourists for the last fourteen summers.

Trad on the Prom is an evening of traditional Gaellic music and dance presented by some of the creators of big, famous shows such as Riverdance or Lord of the Dance. Despite taking place in the unlikely surroundings of a leisure centre sports hall, it was magical and captivating as the quality of the musicians and dancers was so high. Indeed, many of them were world champions.

As we caught the train back to Ennis to pick up our car, we added up the distance we’d cycled on the Wild Atlantic Way.

It came to 961km cycling and 438km driving*.

This means we did fulfil our carbiking promise to cycle more than we drove. But we missed our 1000km target … defeated by the weather on the Dingle.

So how was our first experience of carbiking?

There are lots of good things:

It’s really easy to get to the place you plan to cycle from. You don’t have cram your bikes onto public transport.
It’s more versatile. You can take a detour, stay in different places or get to a remote restaurant.
You can miss out those parts of the route with lots of main roads or boring scenery.
If you need to, you can check out a mountain pass in the car before you ride over it.
You can drive on rainy days.
For day rides, the panniers can stay in the car.
It means you can bring loads more stuff such as heavy camping gear, a box of food or even that all important hairdryer!

And a few less good things:

You always have to get back to your car, which can mean cycling in a circle.
The comfort of the car makes it feel less adventurous, less of a journey.
It makes it too easy to bring loads more stuff!

We thought it worked out surprisingly well especially as there were so many peninsulas to loop round on this trip. We’d definitely recommend it.

Now … we’ve heard some people say that the Wild Atlantic Way is one example of the Irish making-a-lot-out-of-a-little.

It is a clever way of joining all the small roads together and claiming that it’s ‘the longest coastal touring route in the world’.

But … the southern half is so beautiful, so varied and, yes, so wild that we think it’s actually making-a-lot-out-of-a-lot!

Now we can’t wait to return and explore the northern half from Galway to Malin Head.

Clare and Andy

Southern Half of the Wild Atlantic Way: Kinsale to Galway
By bike: 961km, 11825m climbed
By car: 438km*

* If we cycled and drove along the same roads, we only counted the cycling distance.
* We didn’t include driving to Ireland and back.
* Which is not cheating!

Clare goes to County Clare

Heritage is important to Irish people. They’re always proud to say which county they’re from whether it’s Wicklow, Cork, Kerry, Galway.

I don’t have any Irish heritage but I like it that my name is spelt the same way as County Clare, without the ‘i’.

Whilst cycling in Clare we came another way that the Irish celebrate their heritage. The final of the Rose of Tralee competition was broadcast live on RTE1 (the main TV channel) for two consecutive nights and attracts the biggest TV audience of the year.

It’s a competition to crown a young lady who embodies the qualities set out in the famous Victorian poem and becomes an ambassador for Ireland.

She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet ’twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, ’twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

Definitely not a beauty pageant, it’s open to all young women of Irish heritage from home and abroad. They might be a nurse, teacher or lawyer but to the girls lining the streets of Tralee for the annual parade, they’re rock stars!

rose-of-tralee-2018 — *The 2018 winner from Waterford Credit: Stay in Kerry*

Defeated by the Dingle and with wet camping gear happily packed away, we left the Southern Peninsulas, parked our car in the medieval town of Ennis and set off with our panniers for a week. It felt good to be back on our bikes.

Andy wanted to see the Shannon, Ireland’s longest and widest river, which meant pedalling an additional 50kms away from the Wild Atlantic Way.

It wasn’t worth it!

The views of the muddy estuary were unremarkable and long stretches of undulating country roads were unrelenting. I’m sure other parts of the 360km long Shannon are far more beautiful.

Re-joining the Wild Atlantic Way at Kilrush, the scenery became more interesting again but strong headwinds were now the challenge.

This part of Clare is notorious for wind as it faces the open Atlantic and there are no trees to break it up. We quickly learnt that the local rule is ‘whichever way you go, the wind will always be ahead of you!’

As we cycled towards Loop Head Lighthouse the gusts increased to over 40mph. When I stopped pedalling, I was quickly forced to a standstill or even sent backwards!

Built in 1845 the lighthouse was the first of many interesting sights along the Clare coastline. In World War II a big ‘EIRE’ sign was laid out in stones on the headland, to warn Allied and German pilots that this was a neutral country.

Thankfully we left the lighthouse with the wind behind us so enjoyed the luxurious feeling of being pushed along. For those of you familiar with sailing, it was like being on a broad reach.

The Bridges of Ross were originally a trio of natural sea arches until two of them fell in to the sea, leaving just one remaining arch today. As we peered over the cliff ledge we saw a very amusing sight – over 20 photographers huddled together, all pointing huge lenses out to sea.

Perched on stools, clothed in waterproofs with flasks at their sides they seemed to be waiting for something special to happen. Whales, dolphins, seals? No, they were a group of birdwatchers trying to capture the ultimate photo of a puffin, guillemot or kittiwake!

Continuing northwards we were suddenly surrounded by a flurry of coaches all heading to the Cliffs of Moher, a major tourist attraction.

The climb up Moher Hill was both steep and again into a headwind. As we fought our way up we were drenched by a sudden downpour which meant we arrived at the Visitor Centre looking like drowned rats.

We were rewarded with some early evening sunshine and free entry (8 Euro’s each), offered to all cyclists for the making the effort to climb up the hill.

By contrast to the crowds at Moher, the major attraction on the Aran Islands was understated but seemed to us to be even more dramatic.

Dun Aonghasa is a spectacular pre-historic stone fort on Inishmore, the largest of the 3 Aran Islands. It stands in a semi-circle on the highest point of the cliffs facing directly out to the Atlantic beyond.

No-one is quite sure why it is there.

There was no guard rail to protect you from the sheer drop 100m down to the waves crashing below. I felt terrified, staying well away from the edge, not looking as Andy leant over the side to take photos!

After listening to lots of accordions, Andy was desperate to find an Irish band with a good fiddle player. In Jack’s Bar that evening his wish came true.

We were listening to a dreary male singer when a young mum and her small daughter suddenly got up from their dinner and pulled out their fiddles. She was fabulous and got the whole bar clapping along to her traditional jigs and reels.

Leaving the island the following morning we had an amusing incident as we patiently joined the queue for our ferry. This is the boat we thought we were getting.

But our ticket was the wrong colour. Green, not pink. That meant we had to get this ferry instead!

Despite being called the ‘Happy Hooker’ (a hooker is a traditional West Ireland fishing boat), the passage back wasn’t a happy one as she rolled heavily from side to side in the huge swell.

There are highs and lows with every cycling trip.

From a female perspective cycling in Ireland is lots of fun. Distances are manageable, there are lots of comfortable places to stay and the food is great.

The fish and seafood are particularly good, served in generous portions. Seafood Chowder is on every menu, taken so seriously that an All-Ireland Seafood Chowder competition is held every year.

carrygerry-seafood-chowder — *Credit: Good Food Ireland*

The delicious cakes at every coffee stop haven’t helped reduce our waistlines but then cakes are one of the great pleasures of cycling touring. And pedalling into a headwind doubles the amount of energy you use, so why hold back?

The biggest challenge in Ireland is the weather although we have probably had just as much sunshine as rain and wind.

It changes so often, we now call it ‘on-again-off-again-weather’.

No sooner do I stop to take a top off, I needed to put it on again. My rain jacket is continually kept at the ready and my glasses are always being swapped for sunglasses … and back again.

So if you do come to Ireland, my advice is to leave your hairdryer at home and bring an umbrella … and some sunscreen!

Clare

County Clare
By bike: 237km, 2316m climbed
By car: 95km

Wild Atlantic Way (so far)
By bike: 877km, 11194m climbed
By car: 382km

Defeated by the Dingle

On Saturday 21^st May 1927 Charles Lindbergh peered down from the cockpit of the Spirit of St Louis on his historic solo transatlantic flight to see the Three Sisters, small coastal peaks at the end of the Dingle peninsula. At last had reached Europe!

The weather must have been better that day.

We pitched our tent in a full-on gale at Europe’s most westerly campsite, advertising a ‘view’ across to those same Sisters.

We used to love camping and have many fond memories of family holidays under canvas when our children were small. Mostly in the warmth of France. But we hadn’t tried it for 10 years.

So why are we camping now?

Because real touring cyclists camp. Because we think it might be magical. Because it will certainly be cheaper.

Before investing in a super-lightweight-cycle-touring tent, we decided to give it a go in Ireland with some of our old, heavy gear.

We imagined waking to a beautiful, calm dawn in a gorgeous bay refreshed from a full night of sleep and listening only to the sea gently lapping against the shore.

The reality was that we woke to another wet and windy day in a field full of campervans, sleep broken by our air-mat deflating and listened to the kids next door squabbling over their Coco Pops.

We managed seven nights, but it wasn’t an unqualified success. Camping is not that popular in Ireland … probably because it can be a teeny bit wet.

The Dingle Peninsula is said to be one of the most beautiful in Ireland. But we didn’t really see it.

Heavy cloud had settled languidly over this part of the country, putting its feet up and refusing to move on. And with the clouds came the gentle Irish rain that feels so soft and seeps into every fold of clothing.

Not the best weather for cycling.

So instead, we headed into the town of Dingle to see what it had to offer. It turned out to be a lot.

The Dingle regatta was in full swing, with rowers braving the rain to race naomhóg, traditional boats made of tarred canvas stretched over a wooden lattice.

In the evening, we saw a one-man play about the life of a local fisherman and his deep connection to a dolphin that appeared off the coast and never left.

This is based on a truth … there is a bottlenose dolphin in Dingle harbour called Fungie who has been entertaining visitors for 32 years.

Fungie the Dolphin — *Fungie Photo Credit: Dingle Dolphin Boat Tours*

The pubs of Dingle are famous for their music, their character and their window displays.

*Dick Macks: Probably the most famous pub in Dingle*

*Foxy Johns is also a hardware & bicycle store*

They were all full on this Saturday afternoon for one of the sporting occasions of the year – the All Ireland Hurling Final.

So we became sons and daughters of nearby Limerick for a day cheering on their team against Galway, the defending champions. Making the final was a very big deal for Limerick as it is 45 years since they last won.

Hurling players use a wooden stick called a hurley to hit a small ball called a sliotar between the opponents goal posts. These look like a football goal with two rugby posts on top. Hit it in the net for a 3 point goal, hit it over the bar for 1 point.

At the end of normal time Limerick were leading by 8 points, a huge margin. But as the referee indicated eight minutes of injury time, the green shirted fans around us started muttering about the curse of ’94 when they had lost to Offaly from just as strong a winning position.

Surely it couldn’t happen again!

It could … in injury time Galway roused themselves to score again and again and again. Limerick wobbled but to tears of relief all round, they managed to score the single point they needed to cling on and win.

Cue raucous celebrations!

Hurling is an incredibly fast, tough and skilful sport. It’s a sport that almost makes us wish we were Irish.

We only managed one 40km bike ride around the end of the peninsula but it was just as beautiful as we were promised with views out over the Blasket Islands and lots of fascinating local history to discover.

We especially liked the moodiness of Brandon Creek where St Brendan and 14 monks are reputed to have set off in a small boat sometime around AD 535 to cross the Atlantic and eventually reach Newfoundland, stopping at islands along the way (Hebrides, Faroe Islands, Iceland etc.)

This journey was repeated to prove it was possible in 1976 by Oxford graduate, Tim Severin, who made the journey in a replica boat made out of wood, flax, oak bark and wool grease.

Not made of such stern stuff, we have to admit we were defeated by the Dingle.

We drove more that we cycled. And we failed to ride over Conor Pass, Ireland’s highest, as it was blowing a gale in thick cloud at the time.

*An optimistic ice-cream van at the top of Conor Pass*

On the last morning the sun came out at last. We woke up to see the Three Sisters in all their glory through the flap of our tent. As we sat on the lush grass, drinking coffee and listening to birdsong it almost felt like a moment of magic.

So we hope to come back one day to see the Dingle properly in the sunshine.

And we might rediscover the joy of camping after all. The jury’s still out on that one.

Clare and Andy

Dingle Peninsula
By bike: 40km, 540m climbed
By car: 101km

Wild Atlantic Way (so far)
By bike: 640km, 8878m climbed
By car: 287km

Inside the Ring of Kerry

Everyone warned us that the Ring of Kerry is far too commercial. Full of visitor attractions, souvenir shops, cafes, galleries, even pubs serving all-day breakfasts!

And the coaches! Scores of them carrying tourists anti-clockwise around the ring every day from Killarney. “They’ll knock you off your bikes, so they will!”

“If you must go by bicycle, go anti-clockwise but start in the afternoon when the coaches have gone.”

“You should always cycle clockwise, against the traffic. It’s for your own safety.”

With these warnings ringing in our ears, we decided to drive around the peninsula by car before setting out on our bikes. We were especially curious to check out the mountainous middle, inside the famous ring.

It turned out to be spectacular.

Big country. Untamed. Full of lakes, woods, rugged mountain passes, hill farms and brightly coloured sheep. And it was empty – there were very few people and no coaches.

We couldn’t wait to cycle through it!

We drove up to Moll’s Gap and ‘Ladies View’ which announces itself as ‘the finest view in Ireland’.

Feeling inspired, I thought it would be fun to cruise downhill on my bike to the quaint little village of Sneem, about 20km away, while Clare drove ahead in the car. I imagined freewheeling through beautiful countryside in golden early evening sunshine.

It didn’t quite turn out like that.

The wind was so strong that my bike almost stopped whenever I tried to freewheel and I ended up pedalling furiously however steep the descent. It was also a bit of a shock to come across a fairly substantial climb half way down.

This meant it was a red faced and bedraggled cyclist that limped into Sneem some time later to find Clare chuckling into her cappuccino.

We left our car in Waterville, near the end of the peninsula, for the start of our three day tour around the Ring of Kerry. A small backroad took us (clockwise) across to Valentia Island in the far north-west.

Too small for coaches, this road featured several switchbacks that were so steep we both had to climb off and push our bikes.

But it was worth it. From the top of the ridges, there were great views out to the remote Skellig islands which have featured prominently in two Star Wars films (The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi) due to their other-worldly appearance.

The human story of these islands is arguably more extraordinary than a Star Wars plot.

Monks arrived in the 7^th century looking for places where they could get closer to God through isolation and extreme hardship. They built a church at the wild and windy summit and then cut 670 stone steps to scramble up to it. Sleeping in small stone beehive huts, they lived off fish, birds and rainwater. Despite being raided fairly regularly by Vikings, they continued in this way for about 600 years.

Getty Skellig — *Beehive huts on the Skellig Islands Credit: Gettyimages*

That evening we stayed at Kells House & Gardens, a botanical oasis nurtured by a succession of gardening enthusiasts for almost 200 years. It includes an extraordinary ‘Primeval Forest’ of huge tree ferns, mostly imported from Australia in the 19^th century and still thriving today in the mild local micro-climate.

Day two was the big one, venturing inside the ring to climb the Ballaghbeama Pass on our longest cycle so far at 82km with 855m of climbing.

Despite cloudy, mizzly weather it was one of the most memorable rides of this Irish carbike tour. The road snaked up through a narrow, rocky gorge then opened out into a much wider valley as we cruised down the other side. Wild and remote, yet still and peaceful.

This part of Kerry is an International Dark Sky Reserve as there is so little light pollution. Apparently, on clear moonless nights the sky is revealed in all its glory. (If there are any clear, cloudless nights that is!)

That means stricter controls on development, so the raw, untamed quality of the land inside the ring should never change.

On the final morning, we only had 35km to ride back to Waterville over the Coomakista pass which has, yes … ‘the finest view in Ireland!’

But we couldn’t see a thing, as the cloud had come right down to kiss the sea, enveloping everything it touched in fog and drizzle.

Luckily for us, we’d already seen this view in its full glory from the car a few days before!

*There it is … the finest view in Ireland?*

Whilst not as authentic or untouched as the Beara peninsula, we didn’t find the Ring of Kerry as commercial as we’d been warned. It’s a lovely place and a great day out for all the people who jump in a coach in Killarney and then spend the day touring around it, enjoying the sights and the all-day breakfasts!

But we were grateful for the warnings. Without them, we would never have discovered the high country inside the ring.

If you’re seeking unspoilt beauty that’s different to the normal tourist routes, then this is the place for you. By bicycle or by car.

Just please don’t tell anybody …

Clare and Andy

Ring of Kerry
By bike: 197km, 2241m climbed
By car: 70km

Wild Atlantic Way (so far)
By bike: 600km, 8338m climbed
By car: 186km