8 June - Glasgow to
Belfast - 6km
In
order to get to Ireland, we had to cycle from Esther’s house to Glasgow
Central station where we boarded a train to Stranraer. This was where
the fun began and Esther, not used to the bicycle and panniers,
proceeded to fall over, not once, but three times between the house and
the station! Every time I looked around Esther was laying on the
ground, bike on top of her, very much resembling a beetle, legs kicking
in the air. All this happened in peak hour traffic, but Esther was
undeterred by the staring eyes and would get up, dust herself off, look
them in the eye and laughingly declare “Take three!”
At Stranraer, we
boarded the ferry to Belfast where we arrived at around 16h30 (peak time
again) where (you will not believe this) Esther proceeded to fall over
again! The reason for all this falling over was that the bike was too
big for her and her legs too short to swing over the middle bar, it was
therefore not so much falling off the bicycle but more falling over. We
laughed so much that tears were streaming down our faces and it was
surprising that we managed to cycle the 6 km north to where we set up
camp. Esther started referring to her bicycle as Silver, as it bucked
and kicked and appeared somewhat unwilling to see Ireland.
9 June - Belfast to
Cushendall – 69 km
The following morning,
we woke to a beautiful morning, the sun was out, and there was no wind.
With Ol’ Silver loaded and packed we took the coastal road, which was
incredibly scenic, especially on such a glorious day.
We cycled past many small coastal villages and steep white limestone
cliffs. Esther proceeded to fall off another five times before arriving
at camp where she again fell off again in full view of all the campers!
Good thing she wore a helmet. We managed a whole 43 miles (70 km).
10 June - Cushendall
– Ballycastle – 32 km
The next day we left
our campsite rather late and shortly after leaving the village of
Cushendall we spotted a road sign indicating a scenic route via Torr
head, which sounded rather nice. The sign, “Not suitable for caravans
and coaches” should have forewarned us! The scenery was spectacular, but
it came with incredibly steep hills. Esther claimed that she did not
fall over at all that day as she walked the whole way, leaving her with
blistered feet.
The downhill into
Ballycastle was pure pleasure, and after waiting at the bottom for
longer than usual, I cycled up the hill again to look for Esther. I
found her walking downhill, this time with a flat tyre. We discovered
that there was no quick release on her wheels, and we had no spanner.
There was nothing to do but walk the bikes into town and onto the
campsite. Just about every man in camp seemed to have had a suitable
spanner, and soon the wheel was off, and Esther got a lift into town to
buy a new tyre and inner tube.
11 June -
Ballycastle – Castlerock - 64km
The following
day started in its usual way with Esther providing all the fun and
drama. While loading up Ol’ Silver, the one bungee cord slipped loose
and hit her on the lip! There she was, not only covered of bruises and
scratches from falling over, and lumps and bumps from the “Wee Buggers”
but with a fat lip as well. We first cycled past the bike shop to get a
spanner and new front tyre for Esther's bicycle that was looking equally
worn.
The coastline of
Northern Ireland is magnificent, and we stopped at Giants Causeway to
explore this fascinating area. The causeway is said to consist of about
40 000 black basalt columns, the result of an ancient volcanic eruption.
These unique rock formations, weathered by some 60
million years of
wind, rain and storms, today form perfect, regularly shaped horizontal
section. I
found the legends of the area even more Intriguing. The story goes that
a giant by the name of Finn McCool had trouble with his Scottish rival
named Benandonner. Furious, Finn grabbed chunks of the Antrim coast and
threw them into the sea to form a pathway for reaching Benandonner.
Benandoonneer was, however, larger than expected, and Finn fled
Benandoonneer in tow. Finn was saved by his quick thinking wife who
disguised him as a baby. On seeing the size of the baby, Benandoonneer
thought better of it and returned to Scotland.
After a particularly
long hill, Esther declared I was trying to kill her and that it would
have been easier and quicker to have taken an overdose at home! After 40
miles, we packed it in and found a campsite. The lady managing the
campground took one look at Esther's face and allowed us to camp for
free!
12 June - Castlerock
– Quigley’s Point - 32km
It was a short ride to
Magilligan Point to get a ferry to Greencastle, where we got
slightly
lost as a local map shows a coastal road which we found non-existing, we
pitched the tents at the first opportunity we got to give Esther’s
backside a rest and went across the street for a pint.
13 June - Quigley's
Point - Portsalon via Letterkenny – 91 km
It rained all night,
and there's nothing to do but pack up in the rain and head for Buncrana,
where we intended to take a ferry to Rathmullan, just to find that the
ferry only starts operating on the 16th.
I loved the
foreign-sounding names of towns as we cycled from Quigley's Point to
Portsalon via Letterkenny, a remarkable distance of 91 km. Esther was
getting stronger by the day and was not falling over anymore. Ol’ Silver
was still creaking and squealing, and extremely unwilling on the uphills,
but Esther shows her no mercy, and we pushed on. From Rathmullan to
Portsalon, was only about 19 km but we took the scenic route (again) and
encountered some nasty hill before a serious downhill into Portsalon. By
then Esther’s one hand was numb and entirely useless, she was 100%
convinced that I was trying to kill her.
14 June – Portsalon
The weather turned even
more foul overnight, and it was not just cold and raining, but there was
an icy wind coming from the North Sea, we decided to stay put, and we
both crawled back into our sleeping bags, zipped up the tents and read
for the remainder of the day.
By 5 o'clock we had
enough of laying in the tents and headed for the local pub, which was a
shop and pub all in one, a few locals were sitting at the bar, and soon
the singing began. It was three in the morning before we got back to our
tents, I guess it will suffice to say we had a good time.
15 June - Portsalon
- Melmore Head – 59 km
For obvious reasons, we
had a slow start, and it was 12h00 before we eventually got on our way.
The weather was terrible,
it drizzled, a strong wind blew, and it was bitterly cold. On reaching
Carrickart we were told of a
Hostel not far from there, we opted for a
room instead of looking for a campsite. By then it felt that I was
frozen stiff, even Esther was in long sleeves!! The Hostel was not as
close as we were led to believe, but we soldiered on up a steep hill
where we found a very basic and remote hostel. At least it was warm
inside.
16 June - Melmore
Head - Letterkenny - Belfast and Larne - 72km
Esther needed to get
back to work, and the only option was to cycle back to Letterkenny and
see what public transport was available from there. We were in luck as
there was a bus in 20 minutes to Derry and then another bus straight to
Belfast. A shock awaited on arrival in Belfast. Belfast was packed full;
each little nook and cranny was fully booked due to a large
international boxing event. Every B & B and hotel from the cheapest to
the Hilton (even considered that one) was full. By then it was 10
0'clock and freezing cold, I suggested we cycle the 6 km north to where
we camped before, but Esther nearly had a heart attack and refused
blatantly to get on the bike. So back to the train station, where the
staff was extremely friendly and directed as to a B & B in Larne, from
where one can also get a ferry to Glasgow. They even phoned to book both
the B&B and the ferry and helped us on the train. Wonderful people.
17 June - Larne -
Oxford Island – 91 km
We had a great
breakfast at the B & B, what luxury! The B & B was right across from the
harbour making for easy access to the ferry. Esther hopped on the 10.30
ferry, and after waving her goodbye, I jumped on my bike and headed back
to Belfast to get on the road leading south.
It was a great morning
and as it was a Sunday plenty of cyclists are out, all stopping for a
wee chat (as they say here). I took the recommended route south of
Belfast along the River Lagan, all the way to Lisburn. From there on a
minor road via Moira to Oxford Island on Lough Neagh. I even saw the
Orange Order men marching, band and all, in one of the smaller villages.
18 June – Oxford
Island – Ballyronan – 72 km
The Irish are really
friendly, even offered me dope, what lovely people. The Lough is a
freshwater lough and one of the largest in Western Europe. With that
information, I decided to cycle along the shore to Ballyronan. The path
follows small country lanes and minor roads, past small villages and
farms. The lake has an interesting legend which says that it formed when
the Irish giant Finn McCool scooped out an earthen clod to toss at a
Scottish rival who was fleeing Ulster by the Giant's Causeway. Finn's
shot fell into the Irish Channel and formed the Isle of Man!
19 June - Ballyronan
- Kesh (Lough Erne) – 101 km
As usual, I packed up
in the rain, but it soon cleared, and I had a fantastic cycling day west
along the foothills of the Sperrin Mountains, via Omagh to Kesh. In Kesh
I cycled onto the campsite, which was up a serious hill, just to find it
was not a campsite but a mobile home park with no camping facilities.
Bummer! The owner was, however, kind enough to allow me to camp on a
small piece of grass and even unlocked a mobile home so I could use the
shower and toilet.

20 June - Kesh and
surrounds – 32 km
I decided to stay in
the area and went down the hill to the proper campsite from where one
can take long walks around the lake and through the forest. I even found
some dried fruit, yummy stuff, and proceeded to eat the whole lot.
Needless to say, I was soon shitting through the eye of a needle.
Talking about food, I always considered myself the Queen of carbos, but
I have nothing on the Irish, they eat macaroni cheese & chips, or even a
baked potato with beans and chips, now that is considered a carbo
overload.
21 June - Kesh -
Donegal (Dun na nGall) – 72 km
The road to
Ballyshannon ran all along the lake, and with a tailwind, it felt like
downhill all the way. At Ballyshannon, I turned northwards along the
coast to Donegal, still with
a tailwind, where I arrived reasonably early and set up camp at the
Youth Hostel.
Soon afterwards Eddie
arrived by car, and we loaded the bicycle on the roof and explored the
rest of Ireland by car.
Back in London, I tried
my level best to obtain a visa for Europe, but all to no avail. I soon
discovered that the Schengen visa is, for me at least, the most elusive
visa in the entire world.
I felt frustrated as
nothing was going to plan. My plan of cycling Europe fell through, and
after much deliberation, the next best thing was to fly to Hungary and
cycle Eastern Europe and then see where the road leads me. Eddie took
time off from his job, and the two of us packed our bicycles and flew to
Budapest, Hungary. |