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Today is basically a transition day. Of course, my front tire is flat in the
morning, but I have plenty of time to see Allen at Gary's Cycling in Sligo. After I bid the very pleasant Maureen a fond farewell, I pump up my tire and drop it off for Allen to put on a Specialized tube with special liquid interior that self-repairs punctures. He swears by it, and I buy one. I take an hour plus to have a coffee at a bookstore in Sligo. I buy The Butcher Boy by Patrick McCabe on the recommendation of the bookstore clerk who hails from Maine and went to Hillsdale College in Michigan. She is also playing Horace Silver on the sound system. I am suddenly very homesick - something I'd been fighting off and on. I take some deep breaths, drink my coffee, and all is better. The bike is ready, and I take it to the train station at 11:30 a.m., well in advance of the 13.25 p.m. departure. It is a clean, airy, and well-glassed station that flashes me back to the 1950's in the states when the
train was the principal means of travel. Even the provincial stations in the States back then were great - always trimmed out in oak, and often the floors were finished in mosaic. The wait is pleasant indeed. Outside over the tracks is a lexan sawtooth cover which allows natural light through but prevents rain from passing through. I am glad to have arrived early. When the train arrives, I strap the bike in the "Guard Car" and find a seating-for-four with a table for myself. I have it to myself until about 15 miles before Dublin when a great number of young people from Maynooth get on. It is a great train ride. The train travels fairly smoothly and probably hits speeds of 75+ mph. For about the last hour of the ride, a canal runs parallel to the tracks, including locks and even a couple of aquaducts that cross high over gorges.
I see no boats on the canal, but there are fishermen testing their luck, and numerous hikers and power walkers are on the trail alongside. As much as I enjoy the trip, I am very uneasy about biking from the heart of Dublin to Dun Laoghaire, an 8 mile ride to my B+B. As it turns out, the road is well-marked,
busy with rush-hour traffic, narrow, and strung along the bay, not unlike Chicago's Lake Shore Drive. The adrenalin rush gets me through, and I arrive before half five (5:30), less than an hour after getting off the train. My host John O'Connor greets me, and in short order I am unloaded, my bike put in safe storage, and I am having tea. It is raining, so I can't stroll the very attractive water front for long, but I am pleased with the Dun Laoghaire location. There is a DART (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) station two blocks from the B+B for an easy 20 minute ride to Dublin. Plus this suburban village is right next door to Sandycove where James Joyce lived briefly in a Martello Tower and which is now a Joyce museum. Dun Laoghaire is a bustling port and also the location of a major ferry connection to Holyhead, England. I have soup and fish basket at a local pub--even though I am actually tempted to have a burger at the local McDonald's or Burger King. Yes, both are in town. So, with full days ahead of me on Friday and Saturday, I am to bed at 10:00 p.m. to read. (565 miles) |
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