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My breakfast is so huge today, I simply can't eat it all. Four rashers is just too much. I've been trying to eat as much as possible
for breakfast because it fuels me for the day. But for some reason that plateful of food today almost looks disgusting, but the freshly brewed coffee is a treat. After wending my way through Sligo town and the dense traffic, I find my way on N15 heading toward Donegal. Sligo
is like most towns and cities in Ireland; all highway traffic moves directly through the city. There are no by-passes, and of course the narrow streets - most of which are one way - quickly stack up the traffic. During peak hours one can barely cross a street in these towns. My
hostess tells me that Sligo has been debating the location of a by-pass for ten years. Since they can't decide, traffic continues to clog the city's streets. The highway is not a grand way to travel, but it is the only decent route to Donegal according to my two biking books. There are good shoulders (or "margins" ala Irishese) during the first half of my ride and excellent shoulders
all the last half, but my one guide book calls the route "flat" and my other calls part of the route "moderately rolling." This is not a flat route. I use my smallest crank a number of times, and almost every town requires a tough climb out, especially Ballyshannon. I also find it difficult to dress for the weather. I have worn long pants every day on the bike, and when the sun shines I wear a cotton T-shirt, a long sleeve biking shirt, and a short sleeve biking shirt over that. But, of course, the sun is intermittent in Ireland at best. The wind and generally a temperature in the low 50°'s during
sunless periods make for a very chilling ride. So I'm often putting a windbreaker over my three other shirts during grey stretches. In any event, the exertion of the hills and the ample clothing usually leave me soaking by the time I pull into my hostel or B+B in the late afternoon. I stop at Drumcliff to visit Yeats' grave with its famous inscription: "Cast a cold eye, on life, on death; horseman pass by." He's buried next to his wife Georgie who Yeats married when he
was 52 and she was 15! Yeats could be jailed for that these days. As a beloved national poet, Yeats has been given lots of slack, a child bride and buried in a Church of Ireland cemetery! A side road gets me off N15 for awhile as I spend some time on the Lissadell estate grounds - a grand house of the Gore-Booth family, the most well-known being Countess Markievicz who was a friend of Yeats and a leader of the 1916 Rising. A brief stop for photos of the late Lord Mountbatten's Castle near Mullaghmore reveals a quaint seaside village just off the bay where Lord Mountbatten's Yacht was blown up in 1979 by the IRA, taking the lives of the Lord and his family. The rest of the route is a bit of a grind. The scenery would be more impressive if the air would be less hazy. Benbulben is just barely visible. The
seaside resort town of Bundoran is trashy - dirty town, full of arcades, mobile home and caravan parks, and no café. I get through as fast as I can. Donegal is a different story. It's a charming town situated on beautiful Donegal Bay with a triangle acting as the focal point for the town's center. All
main streets flair off of this nicely designed stone area. A restored 16th Century castle sits just off the triangle and alongside the River Eske. On the edge of town and at the end of a walkway on the bay is the ruins of a 15th Century monastery on the Bay of Donegal. I spend some time photographing the area and just hanging out. It is very pleasant there. The Green Hills B+B is situated high above town and the bay. My room is spacious, and I have a nice view. Dinner tonight is Chinese, and it is excellent - the Chef's special, spring roll, and wine. Today's bike ride is a gritty one of 53 miles. My soaked clothing needs a laundromat badly. (373 miles) |
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