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Sunday is a good time to travel the Irish Highways. The lorries are generally parked somewhere, and most people are at church. So my ride to Killybegs on N56 is not harrowing, although there are a few tough hills
and then a number of rolling stretches. The Blue Stack mountains are northeast of the highway and the ocean can be viewed sporadically to the south. Killybegs is an attractive and busy fishing village. The local fish meal processing plant can be smelled as I near it, and one fishing boat is busy unloading its cargo of mackerel. I have lunch of plaice and mashed potatoes and nearly mushed carrots and brussel sprouts. The Irish kill their vegetables thoroughly. It is a pleasant pub overlooking the harbor, and I have a nice glass of beer, Tenant's, while I write out some postcards. I must spend easily £10 per week on faxes, postcards, and stamps. However, it's been a pleasurable task. It's something I often do while having coffee and scone, a beer, or dinner. On the way into Donegal I notice an athletic field full of fans and cars lining the road. I am in a hurry to call Marcia, so I don't check out what turns out to be a Gaelic football game, according to my hosts. I've seen some on T.V. here, and I know I would need lots of explanation. I had a nice day biking 37 miles. |
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