|
|
||||||
|
I spend the night smelling musty sheets at Mrs. Canning's B+B. She is a sweet lady, but her tired and somewhat tattered B+B is just bare minimum. I leave her house happily by 9:30 a.m., and we visit the local park and hang out before the 11:45 bus to Limerick. We talk to a young Aussie who is off on a five-month trek through Europe and the middle east. He has worked in the copper mining industry in Australia, saved up his money, and rewarded himself with this extended holiday. We buy our tickets and the bus driver is almost apologetic about charging £5 for the bike. But he sells us a ticket to Shannon via Limerick, and we have a fairly scenic drive to Limerick, and since the bus is an express we easily stow the bikes in the back
outside compartment. We have a layover of one hour and 45 minutes in Limerick and when the local bus arrives, the driver at first refuses to take the bikes. I waste no time in telling him he has to take us. His bus is no more than half to two-thirds full and his argument
that he has no room is limp, and I tell him so. I also tell him the bus driver in Dingle took our bikes with the same type of bus as his. It is obvious that this old duffer doesn't want to be bothered. I tell him to have some Christian Charity, and I think that's what does
it. He asks me where I am from. I tell him "New York;" I'm not sure why. But that seems to explain my challenging behavior because he says, "I thought so!" I remember Eric Newby in his book Around Ireland
in Low Gear saying that he knew immediately that a bus driver wouldn't take his bike when he saw that the driver was within a few years of retirement. The old guys never want to bother. They are just sliding toward those golden years. Well, his arguments are running
out of steam, and he moves from "I can't" to "we'll see." We hover over him and he finally opens the emergency door, and we do all the work loading in the bikes and bags. Forty five minutes later we arrive at Shannon in a good rain and bike our wet way home. I call Marcia; we break down the bikes and box them, and we walk to the local pub for our final dinner in Ireland. Tomorrow
we're up by 6:00 a.m. and out by 6:30 a.m. I'm so anxious to get home now, I'm beside myself. |
||||||
| Next | ||||||