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This proves to be a longer day than I expected. My detour to Tintern Abbey and Hook Head add some very pleasant miles because it gets me off of R733 which is fairly lightly traveled, but there are just enough cars to make me attentive. The detour is very quiet - just an occasional car or lorry so my total of 53 miles is under good, sunny, low traffic conditions. The day begins grey, and as I ride out of Wexford the fog slips in. Typically as with any coastal town I have to go up a hill to get out of town, and because the fog has sort of cloaked the countryside I cannot tell that I am going up a long steady incline
for the first eight miles out of Wexford. I think my brakes are rubbing. I cannot understand why I am working so hard. Finally, things level off, and I am able to exceed my 11 mph uphill speed. There is a wonderful castle, Coolhull, just on the edge of Wellington Bridge. As with many of the castles in Ireland, it sits on private property, so I have to be satisfied with a telephoto shot. Soon after, I am able to turn onto the Ring of Hook road, and this turns out to be a wonderfully scenic and lightly traveled road. Along the way is the Tintern Abbey (Irish version), under restoration. After lunch in the hotel pub in Fetherd-on-Sea (I was famished), I set off for the old lighthouse at Hook Head. However, one flashback. In the Tintern Abbey area, at an entrance to one of the hiking trails, are a couple of the barrel-topped wagons of the Travelers. This is my first sighting of such an old-time tradition; generally the Travelers today have vans or cars with hitch and camper/trailer. As usual the general area is a mess and a boom box is thumping from one of the wagons. I
inconspicuously and quickly take a couple of quick photos and get back on my bike quietly. The Ring of Hook often provides views of the sea which sparkles in the bright mid-day sun. The countryside is generally flat or rolling, and it is a rich green. I discover a field with four dark frolicking horses. They are having great sport, and they immediately come to me by the stone wall, drink some water, give me their noses to pet, snort, and are as conversational and as friendly as the Irish people. When I stop petting the friendliest one in order to take a few photos, I almost have the camera bumped out of my hand when Mr.
Friendly nudges me emphatically with his nose. By now I can see the lighthouse, a lonely black and white horizontally striped sentinel mated by an old castle some ½ mile below it. An old man is taking his afternoon constitutional and invariably salutes me in the standard Irish
fashion on such a day: "Grand weather. Have a lovely holiday!" The surf is crashing below the lighthouse. I take heed of the signs "Caution-Blow Holes" when I take photos from a variety of angles. There is
just a light pleasant breeze and since I have already put in over 35 miles and it is only 1:30, I lay back on the soft, grassy turf, grease up and close my eyes for about 45 minutes. The combination of sun, breeze, crashing surf, and 60ish temperatures is grand indeed. Feeling refreshed, I bike by my horse friends and give them a wave as I aim toward the ferry at Ballyhack. The country rolls now, and I stop to look at the Medieval church built by the Knights Templar on land granted to them by King Henry II. The town of Duncannon is beautifully situated right on the ocean and it sports a wonderful 2 mile beach. People and cars are all over it. There are no swimmers, but a friendly local telephone man confirms that in the summer the town is a mad house. I can see why. The beach is great; the town is clean and charming and built along a hillside. The climb up its main street is a test of my heart and spirit. I arrive in Ballyhack just as the ferry is landing. A Medieval castle is the wonderful landmark in this tiny village. The ferry crossing is pleasant, and I climb out of Passage East for at least three grueling miles. However, much of the climb is along the hill that faces the bay and so between gasps I can catch a delightful glimpse of the sparkling sea below and the ferry's plying its way between the two ports. The rest of the five miles into Waterford is quite hilly and traffic is quite busy once I get into town. As
usual, it is faster to walk on the sidewalk than to try to bike with traffic. I find the Tourist Office, get directions to Mrs. Murphy's B+B which is only about 10 minutes away, and so I am in my room and sitting in a warm tub of water by 6:00 p.m. I have pub grub in Reginald's Tavern, right behind Reggie's Tower and again I am ravenous. I am in bed by 10:00 and asleep by 11:00. (702 miles) |
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