Atlantic Way 1,200km

I have been cycling in Ireland each year since leaving the whorl of work to spend more time with my bicycles. Hot on the heels of the visit of the Giro d’Italia to my home town in Co. Antrim in 2014 came Mille Failte1200k - billed by Audax Ireland as “Ireland’s longest and friendliest bike ride”. Due to a final work-related diary clash, I couldn’t ride the event in longest day week. However, I did tour round most of the route with Peter Marshall, with no cards or paperwork to encumber us. We travelled by train/ferry/train via Holyhead to Dublin and Cork – relatively painless, even allowing for heavy Dublin traffic – and booked accommodation in advance. Instead of following the 1200k course for 3 hard days of 360k, 350k, 350k then 140k, we decided our exact distances en route by cutting a peninsula or two, when the weather/riding proved too gnarly for our liking. Although we had lights with us, we had no intention of using them. Lowlights of the trip were visiting Clonmel – home of Magners ‘cider’ – an area seemingly devoid of apple trees; and the Kerry dark sky reserve when it was cloudy.

30 Arrivée May 2017 No. 136 Highlights were the spectacular scenery on the coasts, and in the Cork & Kerry mountains; our visits to Sean Kelly Square (below) in Carrick on Suir; and McCarthys bar in Castletownbere; and a tailwind assisted return ride from Midleton to Rosslare along the Copper Coast of Co. Waterford. As my stupid-phone had recently croaked, I invested in a smart-phone and uploaded the app for beoir.ie before departure. This proved an inspired addition - for it indicated where we could find the best local artisanal produce, whether smoked, pickled, homebaked, wind dried, distilled or brewed. As 2014 had been such fun, Peter and I planned an Irish End to End in 2015, using chunks of routes half-inched from the Audax Ireland website. To save leave, Peter travelled overnight via train and Fishguard – Rosslare ferry. I would start a Circuit of Ireland in Co Antrim, and pick him up at Tramore on the south east coast some 70k from the port. My route went via Belfast’s Sailortown and Comber Greenway, down the Ards peninsula to Portaferry; then south of the Mourne Mountains to Kilkeel, round Carlingford Lough to an overnight stop in Newry; then past the site of the Battle of the Boyne, and The Ring of Kerry and Sleeping Giant

the spectacular Monasterboice monastic remains to Dublin.

Avoided the worst of the city centre traffic by hopping on a DART train from Clontarf to Sandycove, for a selfie at the Martello tower immortalised by James Joyce. Exiting the city on a flat road was impossible as I was headed for an overnight stop at Roundwood in the Wicklow mountains. As riding direct to Tramore was too short a day awheel, I added a loop to collect some roads from Le Tour 1997, including the climb named to honour Irish Tour pioneer Shay Elliott. With mine having had a 3 day warm-up, and him losing half a nights sleep travelling, Peters legs needed help, and it arrived in the shape of a tooth abcess which popped up

overnight in Glengarriff, Co. Kerry. Big thank you to the hosts at the Perrin Inn, and one of the guests who provided nurofen and directions to the polyclinic in the Savacentre in Kenmare. Such selfless assistance to total strangers is the norm in Ireland. While I sorted out enough painkillers to kill a donkey, and planned/made a visit to the dentist, we had a couple of short days riding. For the second year in a row, we cut the Dingle peninsula as we could see from the weather at the end that visibility when we got there would be limited. A wet mornings ride to the Tarbert ferry, and across Co. Clare to Ennis were soon forgotten as we troughed in an excellent café, but half a days rain became the pattern for the rest of the trip. Galway and Mayo – much flatter than Cork and Kerry - passed in a blur of showers, but with so many large lakes around, it has to rain a little. In any case we had booked a treat – dinner, B&B in Belleek Castle, Ballina. Refreshed by starched sheets and bathrobes (very useful to wring out wet gear), Sligo,

Leitrim and Fermanagh rolled easily under our wheels in a flurry of photo opportunities. Donegal welcomed us with a curtain of rain, a lot more hills, and a rising south westerly wind; but getting drenched as you arrive at your hotel always guarantees a warm welcome, and saves washing your clothes. All was forgiven as we made deep inroads on the breakfast buffet, and hay with a tailwind through the mountains to Letterkenny. As Peter had no wish to see Malin Head, we parted company and agreed to rendezvous at the Greencastle to Magilligan ferry. Inishowen peninsula is a lot longer than it looks on a map, and far from flat. Two hours in time trial mode saw me at Malin Head around 5pm; and two further hours hard riding got me to the ferry with 15 minutes to spare. A puncture anywhere on Inishowen would have meant a long detour via Stroke City – Derry/Londonderry. Having finished our ‘Irish End to End’, we completed the circuit of ‘the box’ ie Ireland minus the peninsulas, by riding for an overnight at my brother’s; then past the Giants Causeway along the improbably scenic Causeway Coast and Antrim Coast Roads. Peter seemed underwhelmed when I diverted him to Carrickfergus Castle so I could take his photo next to a statue of King William III. Was it the surfeit of sectarian flags and heaps of inflammable material which welcomed us to South Antrim, or the torrents of rain he so disliked? At least he had just enough time to dry all his clothes before heading home on the overnight Belfast to Birkenhead ferry.

www.aukweb.net As soon as I heard about the Wild Atlantic Way Audax (WAWA) being planned for June 2016, I was interested in riding. 2100k in 7 days 7 hours following the longest coast road in the world was just the sort of challenge I needed to fill the gap between 2015 Paris Brest Paris (PBP), and a further tilt at London Edinburgh London in 2017. “7 x 300ks but not massively hilly, and big skies/good daylight; bag drops at 600k, 1500k & transport of kit to the finish”. Transport would be easy as WAWA would start in Kinsale and finish in Derry – both of which have excellent transport connections. I emailed Eamon Nealon, the organiser, to enter and was welcomed with an invitation to send in a photo with one word to describe the WAWA: beoir (heat map of Ireland, above). A few issues would need sorting out: I would have to decline an offer to join friends planning a tilt at Roscoff to Nice, an excellent Diagonale; and WAWA would potentially clash with the once in my lifetime visit of ‘the wee team’ to the European Championships of fitba. Of more concern was the need to front load my 2016 season, to ensure I would be strong enough to ride 300k on 7 days consecutively, 2 months earlier in the calendar than my usual peak. My previous rides in Ireland had been done on my trusty 20 year old Condor, complete with Brooks saddle/bag loops & Carradice Barley bag. I would need a new waterproof, as the one I used in 2015 had leaked. As I planned to ride WAWA in daylight hours some changes would be required. The Specialised Roubaix full carbon bike I used for PBP would give me the speed I needed, but the racing saddle would not be comfortable enough for 2100k of grippy Irish roads. By switching the Brooks onto the Roubaix, I could ride full carbon in comfort, and the Barley would make me less dependent on drop bags. As overheating was unlikely to be an issue, one of my two bottles could contain enough 4:1 powder, to keep energy levels high for 7 days. I am not a big user of social media, but once I realised Eamon would be passing information via posts on the WAWA Facebook group, I signed up. It soon became clear that Eamon was being kept busy, attracting sponsors and support. While help from Audax Ireland would be guaranteed as they

are a tight knit and supportive group, the backing of Mayo.ie - the heartbeat of the Wild Atlantic Way, Failte Ireland (the Irish Tourist Board), and GMiT (Galway Mayo institute Technology) helped ensure Eamon could deliver an event of which all in Ireland would be proud. Ballina Engineering Works made bespoke trophies, and Primal livetracking provided 100% reliable waterproof trackers. Eamon came up with a jersey design incorporating a map of Mayo, and a grey patch on the stomach. Very handy for messy eaters, or those like me who occasionally wear newsprint to soak up precipitation … While Eamon beavered away making arrangements, I worked on my fitness. For years, and always since cancer surgery zapped the lymphatic system in my legs, I have ridden a 200k in each month of the year. The 1800k Circuit of ‘The box’, had contributed to my highest ever annual mileage total, and I kept in reasonable shape through a very windy December and January by riding on 5/6 days. 10 more rides in each of February and March kicked fitness up a level, and included 4 consecutive days riding with luggage in a group led by Paul Whitehead. Hard Boiled 300k calendar and Dorset Coast 200k permanent rides in early April kept my spirits high, but then a setback at the start of May – just as Eamon Nealon, Jim Fitzpatrick and Seamus O’Dowd inaugurated the WAWA. 2 weeks out from the WAWA start line, I was immobile A virus, which affected my breathing, meant I had to pack within 80k of the start of my planned Porkers 400k, and stay off the bike for a week. Two test rides at pace the following week convinced me I could ride Bryan Chapman Memorial 600k; but I needed decent weather, as I was not convinced my system could stand a wet 600. Luckily this was a rare ‘dry Chapman’, and I cruised round in benign conditions. A full weeks rest, then two further test rides ridden faster than my long distance pace on consecutive days preceded a second 600k a fortnight later. For 500k, Brimstone went as smoothly as any Wessex ride with ~8000m of climbing ever can. Eased myself through 100 miles into the wind and most of the climbing on day I; 100k from the finish a rider, who ought to know better, stalled a pace line in which I was riding. Swerving to stay upright, I had to put my right leg down as an auxiliary brake, which jarred the knee. Completing the ride was not easy, but immediate ibuprofen and riding kept the joint from swelling up. By the following morning, 2 weeks out from the WAWA start line, I was immobile and could only reach the bathroom with the aid of two walking poles. Spent the rest of the week with the knee heavily strapped and leg up. You need luck and a lot of time to complete long brevets, and very understanding family support. By the following weekend I was becoming more mobile and, as I had made it clear to my long-suffering partner that I was going to the start of the WAWA, she bought me a folding

stick I could deploy one handed and strap on the saddlebag. Before leaving London by train, I added a triathletes top tube bag to my luggage setup; this held 2 weeks supply of anti inflammatories/painkillers; 3 types of unguent, emergency food rations and a spare phone battery. My route to Kinsale included some relaxed 100k days via friends/ relatives in West Wales before I met Peter on the ferry from Fishguard. A damp evening prologue through Wexford and Waterford, preceded a 180k days retrace of our 2014 Copper Coast route (above). By the time we made our first overnight stop in Ireland, I had been up and down some severe Preseli hills, drenched repeatedly; and reminded why I had packed two spare pairs of brake blocks and a new goretex. Although I still had a pronounced limp when off the bike, I knew my knee should stand the riding - provided I pedalled evenly, and did not overuse the big ring. Knowing the bike would be considerably lighter after Kinsale, when my luggage would be split into bag drops, was a further significant positive Accommodation in the White House Hotel in the centre of Kinsale, around the corner from event HQ in the Temperance Hall allowed plenty of time to sample local produce. After the ‘airport security’ style PBP check ins, WAWA sign in was a joy. With informalities completed by late morning, and time on my hands, I hirpled off to do the Blacks of Kinsale brewery tour. Acquiring a leaflet detailing the dozen or so microbreweries along the Wild Atlantic Way, and a couple of bottleconditioned ales for my drop bags would give me something other than miles to focus on. Met Paul Whitehead, recently arrived off the plane/coach from Cork airport as he uncocooned his bike at the bag drop. That evening, over award winning chowder and local beers we confirmed our plans were similar: ride steady, and aim to finish in daylight each day. Ride day dawned bright and sunny with a cool NW breeze, then a change to SW – the prevailing wind direction forecast for later in the day. It was great to see familiar faces at the start, but I couldn’t help but laugh when Peter Turnbull asked whether he had missed the bike check. At 06:00 we were off, filmed

32 Arrivée May 2017 No. 136 by a drone and with the local Garda [police] squad car for company. As the pace settled, I started enjoying the birdlife on the shores of the endless series of bays we skirted, and chatting to riders. Main animators of the group were Rachel Nolan & Linda O’Connor, two of the four ladies who rode. Their entries to the ride were reminiscent of being pressganged into the Royal Navy – Eamon called Rachel to say that, as no ladies had entered, her name was on the start list. Rachel then phoned Linda to tell her that she too was riding! Although Rachel had never ridden further than a 200k audax, she keeps busy running Rachel’s Irish Adventures, and I was soon in no doubt of her strength. As early as the Pink Elephant after 25km, the elastic was stretching, and I was squirted out. Dropped again on a flat road, I fought hard to get back on, but took up a position punching tickets; then gave in at the first serious uphill behind Seven Heads. This didn’t bother me however as I’d lasted <45k in my start bunch on PBP, and each of the of many short sharp rises revealed glorious views. Of more concern was the wind, for any time the road turned inland it placed a firm hand on my chest. Saw Paul and others a few times and even thought I might get back on, but it was not to be. Taking a leaf from the Shawn Shaw playbook, Eamon threw in a couple of farm yards and a descent that will be nice if the roadmenders ever finish it. As I winched myself up a grunter after 60k, I was caught by Jim Fitzpatrick, riding his second WAWA in 2 months. Jim’s pace was too hot for me, but we would see one another at quite a few mealtimes in the next few days. Entering Baltimore, I saw Paul by the camper van control, but first we had to circumnavigate the village one way system for a look at the castle. I hadn’t expected to see Paul, but we have ridden together many times in Wessex and are well matched in temperament, tenacity and thirst. A quick cup of sweet tea and a slice or two of cake soon weaved their magic, and we rode together ie I sat in as much as I could get away with, and made Mizen Head in good order by 2pm. Having felt several sections of headwind, we could now expect some cross/ tail winds. Gave cheerful hellos to outgoing

riders as we retraced along the Mizen peninsula, then flipped over the shoulder of Knockagna Mountain, to overlook Dunmanus Bay and Sheeps Head Peninsula – our next assignment. Signs said it was ~50k to Kenmare, but Eamon made us go via Kilchrohane for an info control and, to ensure we climbed over the Goats Path. A quick beer and good banter in the Bay View Hotel helped us all loosen up for the climb, which marked the 100k to go point for the day. As Paul faded on the climb towards Glengariff, we decided it was beoir & taytos o’clock. 20k of easy riding with shelter provided by the huge Sugar Loaf Mountain to our north put us both in cruise mode as we turned towards the Healy Pass. While Paul stayed in his big ring for most of the climb, I dropped into my 28 x 34t small ring and twiddled up this cracking climb - Alpine in feel, with lots of grey rock and long well graded hairpins. Morale soared as a rider above soon became a rider below, and Eamon & Seamus appeared on the square metre of flat ground at the summit to stamp our cards and offer encouragement - “28k and only one climb to go”. The climb to Lauragh was a bit of a pig, but in daylight and with home in sight, a power climb. We made Kenmare without needing front lights, and were soon made welcome in the GAA club weights room with an offer of pasta, pie, stew, curry and bottomless teas. “I’ll have all of that” said Paul, before proceeding to see off my pie as well. Over more cakes than even we could eat, we decided to rise at 5 and leave at 6 after breakfast. By riding hard we’d been awheel for 14hrs:09 for our 322.6k, averaging 22.3kph between 06:00 and 21:45. Not bad considering we’d climbed 4637m in total. Accommodation was provided on inflatables bearing a numbered sleeping bag which faeries would transport for us each day. These bedding faeries also provided clean towels and all manner of tlc, and were the unsung heroes of the WAWA and we made a point of saying thanks before heading off each day. No poles, just a series of switchback 1:5s. Eek! Eamon had warned us that days I & II were the longest, but day II “wasn’t too bad”. What a whopping lie! Granted the ~70k round the south half of the scenic Ring of Kerry was lovely riding. However, after Waterville he diverted us on a Star Wars tour round Ballinskelligs Bay and on towards Valencia Island. Usually I judge the steepness/course of a climb by the telegraph poles, but the one over Bolus Head didn’t have any. No poles, just a series of switchback 1:5s. Eek, what’s holding the tarmac on! Having grovelled up, I couldn’t even let go on the way down it was spitting and the toy car and van I had seen ahead were in the way when I was just about to hit Mach II on the steepest part of the ski-jump descent. Tea and fruit cake from the camper van in Portmagee soothed my frazzled legs; while flat-ish roads and prevailing winds kept our pace high on the northern half of the Ring. As we raced to our planned lunch stop at Castlemaine, after 100 miles, we didn’t like what we could see

to our left – the Dingle peninsula was shrouded in low cloud. Rain started as we left the pub by the shop with no food, but stayed light for 30k. As we rose from the coast to meet the N86 trunk road, the rain and traffic thickened. By Lispole it was full on “I am getting too old for this sh*t” weather. This was the low point of my whole WAWA, and if Eamon had appeared in the road I would have run over him, then reversed and repeated the SMIDSY. Pulled over to cape up and stuff in half my emergency jelly babies. Warmer but not drier, and with mood significantly enhanced by the family sized sugar rush, we skipped through Dingle, even ignoring a microbrewery en route. We passed a dozen or more prehistoric sites, all invisible in the mist, and kept thinking “ I must return in the summer sometime”. By the end of the peninsula at

Slee Head, the clouds parted long enough for us to see Eamon’s info control and take photos of the Blasket islands (above) offshore. We didn’t hang about for long though, for no sooner had the islands appeared than the weather we would be getting in 10 minutes shrouded them again. The road past Slee Head has famously fallen into the Atlantic several times and now follows a line 100m inland. This doesn’t spoil the great views and you only have to cycle up a 1:6, rather than the bypassed grunter at Dunquin ferry slip, down which many a sheep has rolled over the years. Racing inland with our friendly tailwind, we hoped to make Dingle before the weather closed in again. Passing through Barryferriter, my radar went ping, and brakes locked when I saw a sign in English advertising WestKerrybrewery. ie beers in Tigh ui Chathain pub. This was a result as I hadn’t been confident of asking in Gaelic for directions to Beoir Chorca Dhuibhne in Baile an Fheirtearaigh, or correctly interpreting the answer. 2 pints of West Kerry Porter and fish and chips soon disappeared, as did the rain shower we had been dodging. Paused briefly in Dingle to point an ashen-faced and bedraggled looking Nick Cannon into a coffee shop before his 31k Slee Head loop, then glided up the Conor Pass in the rising tailwind. Once Paul’s tail light danced away I could see nothing but cloud, and hear nothing but the wind. 30 minutes later I was alarmed when my GPS jumped from 320 to 420m, but that wasn’t as scary as pausing in the full blown hooley at the summit. My descent of the Conor Pass makes me feel queasy even now, as several times I felt I could be blown over the low wall into the void I sensed to my left. Reduced to descending on the right ie wrong side of the road with my weight firmly over the front forks, I stopped to switch on my front light

www.aukweb.net and regain composure. Carried on doom, I mean downwards, as fast as the crosswind and my nerves would allow, and eventually dropped out of the cloud. Caught Paul dawdling a few miles further on wondering if he should report me as a UFO. As soon as we regrouped, we took off towards Tralee with the slope and our roaring tailwind for company, and another daylight finish in mind. A couple of wrong turnings negotiating round Tralee reminded me how tired my brain and legs were, and that I had been maturing bakewell tarts in my bag for 100k. On our final section grovelling due west into the wind, we had plenty of time to sympathise with those who still had to face Conor Pass (below), as the mountains across the bay were shrouded in low rain bearing clouds. As dusk neared, we bimbled on lanes inland of Banna strand, past the impressive

monument to Sir Roger Casement, who was arrested here having come ashore from a German submarine on Good Friday morning 21 April 1916 in furthering the cause of Irish freedom. Casement is also known as the father of twentieth-century human rights investigations; and owned the second best whiskers on the WAWA. After 199 miles in damp clothes, the flesh pots of Ballyheigue hove into view at 10pm, just as a humungous shower hit. 5 minutes later and we would have been drenched, rather than merely soaked to the skin. Eamon was right though - day IIs riding wasn’t as hard as day I: we’d been awheel for 14:09 again but had averaged 22.6kph and climbed only 3118m in total. The welcome started before we had dismounted as a driver, who had seen us pause near the seafront, guessed correctly that we needed directions to Ballyheigue Community Hall. Inside the cosy control, the welcome was off the scale good: for the parish priest had made an announcement from the pulpit before WAWA, and the local cooks put on a spread to do Kerry proud. Eamon had ordered an extra WAWA trophy for each set of controllers, and these daily presentations while riders were present were an excellent idea. Paul and I showed our appreciation in the best way possible, and had soon eaten more than is strictly healthy. Seamus, Eamon’s technical guru revealed that my tracker was functioning well, but would need a recharge the following night. Our start on Day III could be a late one as the first ferry across the Shannon from Tarbert did not leave until 09:30. Slept light due to the rain bouncing off the roof of the hall all night, but at least we had clean clothes and a late start to look forward to; and Met Éireann forecast another wet morning, but less rain later in the day. Before breakfast I checked on Peter’s progress, and was pleased to find he was one of the living dead stirring in the dormitory. Paul and I exited at 07:00 with yesterday’s hooley still at our backs, and plenty of time for the 40k ride NE to Tarbert. Averaging 28kph on this leg was no comfort, for the next 50k were WSW to the first control at Kilrush and onwards to Loop Head at the mouth of the Shannon. With half the field huddled at the ferry slip, the on-board tea bar and hand driers in the toilets were soon busy. Steady rain welcomed us to Co. Clare, and became heavy just as we arrived in Kilrush, where the West Clare CC provided a wonderful spread of food. Despite having ridden only 50k since breakfast, we all ate again as we knew what was coming. It wasn’t raining hard enough to dampen spirits, but not all riders wanted to remove outdoor gear. The leg to Loop Head lighthouse was as rugged a morning’s cycling as I can remember. The inland lanes had more potholes than you could shake a stick at and no hedges to in which to find a stick; on the coastal section along Kilbaha Bay, the Atlantic was at its wildest and the horizontal rain had a salty tang. Nearing the lighthouse, the wind was just plain silly. With only 90k completed by 1pm, a daylight finish looked unlikely. However, as soon as we turned NE with the wind at our backs, our average speed doubled and we reeled off 50k in 90 minutes. A short section into the wind at Lahinch was unwelcome but relief came with a quick beer stop, and the camper van at the foot of the Hill of Moher. Three days in, I was developing a full blown cherry-Genoa habit, but the cake fuelled me well for the climb. The 200m tall Cliffs of Moher remained unseen due to the mist, but we cared not, for our route followed the coast road through the Burren National Park. According to Oliver Cromwell’s 2nd in command “there is not enough water to drown a man, wood enough to hang one, nor earth enough to bury him” in the Burren.

However this is a truly amazing landscape rich with historical and archaeological sites; the vast glaciated limestone pavements were fantastically atmospheric in the mist, and made those above Malham Cove seem a bit like a rockery. Aside from my many photo stops, progress was fairly quick as we rolled ENE with shelter from the mountains inland of us. We completed our 262k in 10:52 at an average of 24.1kph shortly after 20:30. With only 1831m of climbing the shortest day of the WAWA almost felt like a recovery ride. Soon after arriving at the super friendly but labyrinthine Oranmore GAA Club, I set about

finding places to hang up all my sodden accessories. At ground floor, my coat was draped on the bike and shoes went on a hot pipe in the shower room. That day’s sock liners were binned but are now generating electricity for the Irish National Grid. In the dining room above I festooned a radiator with arm warmers, socks, mitts and hat, and left my mobile phone & tracker charging; and in the sleeping quarters between I slept on my damp towel and shirt. By a miracle I was able to remember where I had left all this stuff the following morning; and the sleeping bag cover did not explode when packed with yesterday’s dirty clothes. The kitchen had clearly been warned of our approach, for free beer greeted us and an unofficial stew and pie eating competition soon broke out. Paul exceeded 30kph (kilograms of pie in an hour), a clear breach of AUK regulations. We had seen few other riders since leaving Loop Head, and none since our cake stop at Moher, but Eamon and Seamus were attentively tracking the riders still on the road, especially those to the rear of the field who would most need their tlc. Rachel and Linda had been eating when we arrived, and other riders trickled in as we ate, all very wet and telling tales of their nightmare excursion to Loop Head. Less than a third of the field had appeared by the time we turned in, and there were more empty beds in the dorm the following morning. After 3 days, the distance, strong winds and wet weather were biting deep into the field. Up at 5 and out at 6 again, with company from a giant Galwegian who had ridden over from Maam Cross to escort riders through the city. He came in handy as a windbreak as we headed to our turn at Clifden on the west coast. I slowed Goliath once to let a shower pass ahead of us, but mostly we chatted and ran a 3-up as the morning miles passed agreeably. Approaching the impressive Twelve Pins mountains in Connemara National Park, we had to speed up to miss the next shower with our name on it, but then got separated approaching Clifden. Fish and chips and a couple of local beers went in sideways, but progress was slower as we had to digest it on the climb over the shoulder of the Mamturk mountains. When Eamon told us we would be riding along a fjord, we assumed he was away with the faeries again; He wasn’t kidding though, for the scenery here was very spectacular and by our next brewpause in Leenane, we were scanning the opposite bank of Killary Harbour for riders ahead of us. My favourite roads are flat ones through high mountains, and the circuit of the inlet and Doo Lough

Pass via which we headed inland met both these criteria. As we would soon turn due west into the wind, we paused with 45k to go so I could sample Westport brewed beers and compare beards with the local brewer.

The final 12k of our evening from Mulrany was into a rising gale on a minor road which again showed the Atlantic coast at her wildest. Our hard ridden 302k had taken us 13:22 at an average of 22.6kph. Although we hadn’t gone above 93m all day, we had climbed 3106m. The rapid drop in temperatures and clouds thickening across the bay gave later finishers a rugged evening and night. The local primary school had been commandeered as the control in Corraun, a

sparsely populated rural community overlooking Achill Island to the west. The welcome here was as warm and attentive as on other days, with mechanics on hand overnight to tweak bikes; and a shower butler – who drove riders to and from the nearby GAA club and acted as gofer for anything else we needed. Having carried pages of my road atlas of the WAWA route since Kinsale, I decided now was the time to look at them. The Day V route including 3 loops and I needed to know when, or if we might get a break from the wind. The first loop of 80k went round Achill Island and back to Corraun with about half the distance into the gale and another third in a crosswind. The scenery was superb, especially on the Atlantic Drive hugging the west coast of Achill, but after nearly 4.5 hours hard cycling in a landscape with few trees, we weren’t half glad to return to Corraun to refuel. We’d seen no-one going our way but Hungarian András Vaszula and Peter Turnbull going round the loop in the opposite direction will have had a harder time than us. The retrace of our route to Mulrany was followed by 35k of main road bash, all made much easier by the prevailing wind. Just as well, for 20k of head/crosswind started our second loop of the day, down to the Sea Rod Inn. Until we arrived, the publicans had been distinctly puzzled as why so many cyclists had been stopping to look at their remote pub! A much easier 20k took us to Belmullet for the first of 2 visits separated by a 48k schlep out and back to Blacksod lighthouse near the tip of the peninsula. A few k into the grovel I felt a stiffness in my right thigh, and was worried I might have pulled something. Soft pedalled as much as possible on the drops, and was much relieved to get to Blacksod without the leg getting any worse. Stretched in the shelter of the lighthouse, and was able to pedal strongly on the tailwind assisted cruise back to Belmullet. By then I began to think I had had a cramp or lymph issue, rather than a pulled muscle. Popped some nurofen and did some discreet lymph massage and stretching while watching Germany v NI on the tele. Germany scoring, rather than being caught massaging my leg, was our cue to leave. The rolling ride across north Mayo towards Ballina offered lovely views of boglands and cliffs; but perhaps my tapeworm was getting hungry again for the spectacular cliffs at Ceide Fields resembled a large slice of cake. Made Ballina after 13:20 riding and a total climb of 3649m. Today’s loops into strong winds had reduced our average speed to 22.1kph – our slowest day yet. Loop Head had been hard but Blacksod was probably worse as it was into a block headwind, and 180k into the day; riders further down the field were in for another long night’s riding. Received the usual great welcome from the controllers at Ballina Rugby Club, who had kindly arranged a supply of Ballina brewed beers to supplement the by now customary mounds of food. Over dinners, Paul and I agreed to rise at 5 and hit the road around 6. Massages were available here but, sore and tempted as I was, I dreaded the medic telling me to quit. Did my own lymph massage to relieve what now felt like a solid lump in the vastus medialus muscle in my thigh, and topped up my painkillers. After a couple more beers, I relaxed enough to go in search of my drop bag and a hot shower; then slept noisily in my compression socks dreaming of pharmacies. Flat north Mayo roads offering nice views of the coast and the Ox Mountains inland were just what the doctor ordered. After Eamon’s excursions to Loop Head and Blacksod, we started to get twitchy when we saw a lighthouse across Sligo Bay; but we needn’t have worried for the wind had dropped considerably and the clouds had gone from grey to high and fluffy. Loops out to Strandhill, Rosses Point and Lisadell on minor roads held no terrors, and kept us off the busy trunk roads around Sligo. Mullaghmore added more scenic 360º views to the album and a preview of the weather we could expect in Donegal in a few hours. In Bundoran we paused briefly at the camper van control, and to pick up a tubigrip bandage. The pharmacist recommended rest but accepted it wouldn’t start for another 36

hours; she also paused before handing me scissors, in case I added a stab wound to my WAWA self-harming. Wrestled one thickness of bandage on to give me a cocoon from ankle to top of right thigh, which immediately made pedalling feel better. Paid homage to Rory Gallagher in his hometown of Ballyshannon; but didn’t loiter long as the rain had returned. Our bash to Donegal town was done at high speed to minimise time on the N15 trunk road in thickening rain, and required a beer break to calm nerves. Paused briefly exiting town to cape up, just as a cloudburst arrived. Another attritional afternoon’s riding beckoned. Luckily Eamon’s route to the large fishing port of Killybegs ducked off the main road quite a bit, meaning we could climb the increasingly testing rollers in peace. If we had known how testing the westbound leg to Glencolumbkille would be, we might have had more than just a quick stand up snack overlooking Killybegs harbour. The steady 10k climb inland of Slieve League on wet roads was immediately followed by a steep descent, and sharp right to regain all the precious lost height. Glengesh Pass was glorious in the early evening sun but, as I went into the red zone on the climb, I had to work hard to catch Paul on the descent. Knowing of the 1:6 out of town, we paused at Nancy’s pub in Ardara. The last 40k of the day through 'Daniel O'Donnell country' to Lackenagh passed easily as the cloud had lifted while we supped, and the breeze was favourable. Today’s 297k took us 13:41 on the road. With 3662m of climb, our average was 21.7kph. 6 days at ~300k/day was taking a toll. As the days 280m highpoint was well into the days ride, and there was little if any shelter after Killybegs, later finishers would have another punishing night. St Columbus Community Hall was a warm and welcoming haven with controllers to match. Up at 5 to be riding by 6, we were reassured to see quite a few bikes in the hall. We were also confident we’d make it as we were both well rested and had clean clothes for the run in. The last days riding was relaxed to start with, as the morning light was great for photography. Orchids grow wild and in profusion around the Bloody Foreland, which is always windy as there is nothing between here and America. Despite many, many more cottages dotted about the Donegal landscape since I first visited in the 1960s, Dunfanaghy, Doe Castle and Sheephaven retain their attractiveness; and the new bridge onto the Fanad peninsula offers great 360o views of Drongawn Lough. The grunter out of Carrowkeel was worthy of Wessex and stopped us dozing off before our stand-up lunch stop on the outskirts of Letterkenny. Met Peter Turnbull’s dad here, looking worried: Peter had missed his turn over the bridge and was in danger of doing an extra 40 mile loop. Ever the sadist, Eamon gave us a tailwind assisted hour’s main road bash to within 25k of Derry, before he diverted us off for an extra 100 mile loop round the Inishowen peninsula. Knowing that Mamore Gap lay in

wait, Paul and I stopped for coffee in Buncrana; and again soon after to cape up when a heavy squall arrived. Thankfully the shower didn’t last long, as Mamore would have been un-rideable in heavy rain. I was only able to get up it in my lowest gear by tacking back and forth using the full width of the road - My second “I am getting too old for this sh*t” moment of the WAWA. On the approach to Mamore, we hooked up with Pat Dease, who we’d seen a couple of times since sharing a pint in the Sea Rod. Self-described as a poor descender, Pat plummeted off the hill and was last seen by Paul overshooting and retracing at the bottom. Didn’t see Pat again until the approach to Malin Head as I value my teeth higher than the adrenalin rush from the descent. Coming after 200k, Mamore Gap was the literal highpoint of the day; however as there was a perfectly good alternative, I couldn’t help thinking that later riders would not thank Eamon for including it. Our Day 7 luck with the weather ran out when we copped a cloudburst. As summer leaf cover on one of the few roadside trees didn’t help much, we eventually pressed on through Malin to complete our Irish 'End to End' around 19:00. As Ireland’s most northerly coffee cart wasn’t there, we celebrated instead with a pint in Irelands most northerly bar; then legged it before the rains came back. Treated Paul to a couple of verses of "The seagulls they fly high in Moville" to celebrate clearing the last hill of the day. He seemed less appreciative than I had expected, but not half as underwhelmed as when the final storm of our WAWA arrived.

Arrived drenched at the Peace Bridge, having grafted along Lough Foyle into a brisk Sou'wester. The final days 312k ride had included 4244m of climbing, and taken us 17 hours on the road at 21.1kph. I had needed my front light for the last hours ride, the first time it had been on since the descent of Conor Pass. Mr Tetchy made a brief appearance at the finish when I found my civvies were awol (for which I heartily apologise); but this was a minor inconvenience, and all was forgiven after I had had a large pizza and a night’s sleep in a bed. Peter had arrived safely overnight and we returned to the Peace Bridge wearing our stupid ‘we did it’ grins to cheer in the final riders due by ~13:00. Considering this was a first ever running of the event WAWA, Eamon and his devoted teams of helpers delivered an absolute Tour de Force. Eamon has plans to run the event again in 2020, possibly in the reverse direction. If Eamon sidles up to you on LEL or PBP, beware. He has a silver tongue and does not take no for an answer.

Afterword: As distances between bag-drops on LEL are shorter, I will be taking a smaller bag; and carrying only 2 inner tubes. The one liquid, one powder bottle setup worked well in Ireland, and will again provided hot weather is not forecast for LEL week. In that instance, I will use 2 bottles for liquid and put powder in drop bags.