Day two
Safe to say I started my year as a 30 year old with a slightly sore, but happy, head. I’m quite certain the fuzziness contributed largely to the most ridiculous route I took out of Dublin. Not following the converted cycle way along the canal from the centre, instead needing many direction stops as I slowly moved towards the outskirts, finally locating the cycle path several hours into my journey, and not so many miles. The entire day took much longer than planned, getting used to a good pace, trying not to get lost, stopping once or twice to talk to a friendly passer-by.
That night I was fortunate to be staying with some of Danny’s family members. It was nearly dark when I thought I had arrived at my location, according to the information Google maps had given me. The next thing I knew however, the maps location moved and I was a good 15 minutes away.
Finally heading down the road Google advised, the street lights disappeared and the ground became a mixture of mud and rock. I was beginning to despair. Unable to get hold of Danny, not knowing how to get in touch with his family and not really wanting to continue down this dark and uneven path to heck knows where. I saw a house with a light on, the door slightly ajar and walked towards it in the hope those inside could help. This was probably my best decision of the day. Not only did they know my destination, they knew I was heading to the back entrance, a terrible idea with my bike and luggage in tow. As luck would have it, the man of the house owned a large van and was happy to drop me where I needed to be. What seemed only moments later, I found myself stepping out of the white van in front of a large gated entrance, accompanied by a feeling of utter relief that my struggle was over!
I was welcomed by Danny’s aunt at the gatehouse, whilst his cousin, Mike, who lived in the larger farmhouse, was located. A short while after arriving he collected me in his jeep and drove the short, uneven, distance to the impressive historic property. Although I couldn’t see much by the dim light, and despite restoration works meaning half of the front windows had been temporarily replaced by large plastic sheets, the splendour wasn’t lost on me.
After curling in an armchair, I chatted with Mike, enjoying the warmth of a freshly lit fire until my eyes would no longer stay open.
Day three
I awoke at 9am, through the efforts of my alarm. Given choice, my body would have rested all day, but this was only day three and I was keen to continue my journey. Mike was nowhere to be seen, so I padded down large carpeted stairs to the main hallway, and then through a tall wooden door down steep stone steps to the basement kitchen. A large open plan space, complete with coal oven and a long rectangular wooden dining table, time had not allowed this place to lose its character.
After being joined by Mike for breakfast, I was honoured with a tour of the grounds. Across the gravel driveway which bordered the front of the house, we stepped over a wooden fence onto dew damp grass. This first field held a number of sheep grazing peacefully, positioned in the forefront of a descending landscape, distant hills covered with a gentle grey haze. My excellent guide took me across to the next field, and up a steep but small hill which was, I’m told, the best spot on the land to view their surroundings. Unfortunately the beauty was hidden behind the dull skies that day. Mike explained that at Bealtaine (May) each year, fires are lit to celebrate the beginning of the summer. This starts with one central fire at Uisneach, the mythical and sacred centre of Ireland, which then signals the igniting of many fires across the island.
We wandered down towards the lake, only part of which belonged to the property, and all of which was accessible to a designated number of fishermen each season. On our way to the water’s edge was, to me, one of the most impressive parts of the grounds, a wonderful example of how man can work with nature to create something beautiful. We walked down a long walkway, built from a line of beech trees on each side, painstakingly woven to create an arched tunnel.
Our return to the house took us along an entrance road, built in more recent years to accommodate the introduction of mechanical vehicles. The bottom of this road was apparently where I would have eventually ended up (if I could make it that far) had I not knocked on the neighbour’s door that previous night.
After a late lunch it was time to be on my way and being nearly 3pm Mike was good enough to take me a short way south to join the old railway line, now a converted cycle path, which would provide a delightfully easy route to Athlone, the first half of my route that day. Despite the monotonously flat path, I delighted in the peace that surrounded me.
From Athlone I made my way north to Ballygar. Often travelling along single lane roads lined by grey dry stone walls, green rolling country spreading in all directions. As I neared my destination the skies opened, throwing intermittent spells of cold rain upon me.
Finally I was in Ballygar, my destination for the day, and all that was left was to find a place to camp for the night. I rode through the town centre and paused at the far end, getting off the bike to decide on a plan of action, hunger and tiredness beginning to dampen my ability to think. I wandered along a raised kerb, eyes on my phone, and accidentally wheeled my bike straight over the edge! Luckily catching it before it crashed to the floor, I realised it was most definitely time to give up and rest.
Thinking it would make a good pitch for the night, I headed towards what I thought was an exercise field at the distant end of a car park. As I got closer, however, I realised this was very much private land complete with cameras, with no soul around to ask permission. Continuing for a minute down this road I happened across an empty, overgrown field which called out to me. A knock on the neighbouring door confirmed it was acceptable to set up here. I was soon crawling inside the tent admiring the spaciousness of this one man house (kindly on loan from Danny) and lay down just as the skies opened once more, feeling exhausted, but content.
