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We go due west today along the Dingle Peninsula and eat a strong wind for all of 26 miles which makes this rather short but hilly day more difficult than we expect. In addition, of course, we also have to contend with bouts of rain. We're waiting for everybody's forecast - that the weather will improve significantly tomorrow - to come true. We're tired of ten days of this "broken" weather. Our first stop is Inch Strand, a three-mile long spit of sandy beach. It is a wonderful stretch of beach, but with today's wind it is cold and, of course, nobody even thinks about
swimming (or "bathing" as the Irish put it). After we leave Inch Strand, we hug the side of the mountains and have great views of the sea below. As we move within eight miles of Dingle we come across Dave, a tour biker from New Zealand. He has just spent a month biking in Mexico which he loved. We all bike together to a pub where we have drinks and sandwiches. On the way, we meet two couples from New Jersey at a lay-by. One of the women is familiar with Kalamazoo and Grand Rapids because she sells furniture and has visited the furniture factories in Grand Rapids. We part company with Dave after the pub stop. Dave looks to be about our age, and has retired this year. He has sold most of his "toys," including his Alfa Romeo, has no family, has no expensive hobbies,
and so is embarking on a retirement of long bike holidays around the world. We wish him well as he moves off with his heavily- laden bike. We arrive at our B+B at 2:30 p.m. after a casual bike-day filled with beautiful vistas, sea views, and dappled mountains. As our guide book notes, the B+B has nicely spacious rooms, is very clean, has heat, hot water, and very importantly to me a fax
service, which I use today for a fax to Marcia. A bath and shower are grand. The town of Dingle is a charmer. It is right on a great, natural bay shaped like a sideways horseshoe, but with the tips almost touching. We
drop off laundry, have a donut and a beer and a mediocre dinner of pasta at El Toro where our waiter is so inattentive in a nearly empty house that he would have made a French waiter green with envy. Dingle has as much Irish music as Doolin, and so off we are to Murphy's and an unpronounceable Gaelic pub for the local music. To our surprise a visiting group of Polish musicians is holding forth at the first pub, and they are playing wonderfully exuberant
Irish music. I speak to one of the young men afterwards; I tell him of my Polish background, and I give him my last name and for the first time in weeks I see the light of recognition on a face when I pronounce my name. He smiles and pronounces the name perfectly. We part
with a handshake and hug. The local trio of bodhran player, electric guitarist and pipe/whistle player is fine although the guitarist is too in love with his pedals. The pub is absolutely packed. It is SRO, and I'd hate to think what would have happened if somebody yelled
"fire!" I've taken to drinking Bulmers, a hard cider on tap, in the evenings or when I stop for lunch on my bike and can't handle the heavier and more alcoholic beers on tap. We listen to a duo at Murphy's and they are playing the traditional Irish pieces that the locals were singing to, such as "Galway Bay," etc. The pub is also quite full although we can move around without fear of treading on someone's toes. Friendliness and camaraderie prevail, and it is with some disappointment that we hear them announcing their final tune at midnight. In all, this is very inexpensive entertainment. There is no cover at either pub and a half pint of Bulmers runs about £1.20. It is a fine conclusion to a great day. (951 miles) |
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