Tuesday, April 29 (Arklow to Wexford) Wexford County  
        

             I leave Arklow under mostly cloudy skies and with a strong wind in my face along the dreaded N-11 but for only two miles.  My left turn is partly hidden because of heavy construction around a new by-pass on the edge of the city.  Such by-passes are rare.  Most cities in Ireland still function around a 19^th Century concept of travel.  Hence, all highways feed into the heart of the cities making traffic including lorries and carriages almost impossible.  My hostess tells me that in the middle of tourist season in, say July, it will take her one hour to travel from one end of the town to another, a distance of perhaps a mile or less.  The simple act of trying to cross the street is tedious and dangerous.  And, of course, all of the streets are narrow, based on the ancient widths of cart and horse.

Again the bike book was nicely descriptive, but I go beyond my turn because of the chaos of construction. After less than a mile, I know I have to turn back.  I turn off the very busy N-11 onto the coast road which is wonderfully quiet, perhaps 2-3 cars per hour; it is a dream.  For almost 40 miles I bike this wonderful road toward Wexford City.  The road rolls and corkscrews and fairly often I have to eat the west, southwest wind, but it is not bad at all, esp. given the gentleness of the traffic.  I have a beer at Hammel's Pub in the little village of Kilmuckridge, and I have a coffee and scone at a pub in Blackwater, taking it out on a picnic table in order to soak up the sun which has been out fairly consistently since noon.  I go around Tara Hill, take a couple of pictures, but it isn't much, just a significant blip in a fairly rolling countryside with a number of houses built along its base.  All along this route are signs pointing east, to my left, that announce strands or beaches.  Indeed this part of the coast is famous for its beaches, esp.  "blue flag" beaches - those swimming areas that are quite safe.

My accent usually gives me away immediately as a "Yank" or "American," but today at a little grocery store the woman asks me if I am from Australia.

My last three miles today are back on N-11 into Wexford, and the city is a bustle of highway traffic and major road construction along the quays on the edge of the city.  I discover I can walk faster than I can bike.  I find the Bord Failte and get a room at the Westgate B+B, located nicely right by the old stone Westgate and toll entrance which was constructed in 1300 AD.  It's a bit noisy because of street traffic - the usual, i.e., all highways feeding into the city and, in this case, past my window.  The city is certainly Medieval, and rather reminiscent of Galway, except there is no riff-raff hanging around getting drunk and making a nuisance of themselves.  Like Galway the streets are narrow, and they flair off often in narrow passage ways to more narrow streets and shops.  Here I find a pub-undertaker establishment.  I also find a fast food place called, magically, "Uncle Sam's."  I take photos of all of them, of course.  There is a little section along the main street here that is called the Bull Ring where bear baiting used to take place in the 17^th Century.

I have a pizza at Gino's (a rare non-Irish name), and I find it tasty.  I am starving; this biking, wind, and sun combine to create an incredible appetite.  I have a pint of Beamish stout at Tim's Tavern, write out postcards, stroll back home along the river front, and read until my eyes no longer can stay open.  It is a pleasant day, and I love getting in to my B+B by 3:00.  It gives me plenty of time to check out the town.  45 miles today. (649 miles)

    

Previous

Home