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After a rainy afternoon and night on Sunday, we awake to grey but no rain. Our hostess, Dolores, meets us for breakfast and is every bit as affable as her husband, John. These two are, perhaps, the most outgoing and friendly of any B+B couple I have met on
this trip. In fact, in many cases I never even saw husbands or if I did they were very briefly involved in the operation of the B+B. But John provided us with cookies, tea, information, and friendly conversation off and on Sunday while Dolores was off on a religious pilgrimage to Knock, County Mayo, with her two
youngest children. Our exit out of town is slow because we find the town attractive and we take numerous photos of the river, the old 16th century bridge, etc. The first 12 miles are delightful. We bike along the side of a hilly stretch on the south side of the River Suir. It is overcast, but we never have more than an occasional light mist. Traffic is remarkably light, just a few cars in a couple hours. However, as we ride into Clonmel, the rain starts pelting us. We stop off at a hotel restaurant and have a coffee and biscuit and hope that the rain will end by the time we exit. It hasn't, and we both don our rain gear. By now the wind has picked up and is blowing hard from the northeast, on our backs thankfully. But the rain is persistent; it is cold, and our ponchos are flying around like parachutes. The V-neck of my poncho is beginning to tear and by the time we reach Ardfinnan the poncho is shredded. We stop and have a Guinness at a pub, and I take off the poncho because it is essentially
useless. We stop at the Cross Bar Pub to get our strength as we prepare for the crossing of Knockmealdown Mountain. We find one charming old gentleman, Jim, and a female behind the bar who is filling in for the owner. She makes us ham and cheese sandwiches and tea and charges us £2. Jim tells us, "Ye'll walk your bikes up the Vee; it's certain." He is
speaking of the famous mountain pass shaped like a "V" in its series of switchbacks to get one through this over-1000 foot pass. The peddling isn't as difficult as I expect, especially given the tail wind, but what we don't anticipate is the gale-force wind at the top,
especially through the pass which acts as a sort of wind tunnel. The final six miles is down hill, but it is a harrowing experience because whenever a strong gust of wind catches my bike at an angle, it jerks the bike around and threatens to throw me into the ditch or hedge or traffic, which is mercifully fairly light. We
brake our wet brakes and avoid sheep, cars, and potholes. We are wet; my feet are wet and very cold. My hands are numb from the wind and rain and from gripping my handlebars as though my life depends on it - which, of course, it does. I am never so glad to enter a town
before except perhaps Sligo when I was coming in from Enniskillen on that rainy head-wind day on highway N16. The image of Lismore Castle on the Blackwater River is a most beautiful and welcoming sight. We find a B+B after a quick stop at the Bord Failte, take hot showers, hang up our wet clothes and have dinner in town at the hotel. After we stroll the city, the skies clear but the wind howls and the temperature drops.
We have had a challenging day of 43 miles, and we are very happy to get off those bikes and under a roof. |
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