Day five
It was a blissful start to the day, waking up clean, warm, and dry. I enjoyed Orla’s company and some breakfast. By mid-morning I’d begun my journey around the coast, taking in the ocean and mountain view.
One hour into my journey, life no longer felt so rosy. The road was taking me further west, and the slow elevation and sparse environs were providing as many battles as rewards. The force of the wind, coupled with an increasing pain in my left knee, had me struggling to keep up morale. Every push on the peddle caused a sharp pain beneath my kneecap. The road stretched endlessly in front of me and I became so involved in my struggles I was unable to see my surroundings.
Eventually I reached that low, demoralised, crushed, state of mind where I realised there was nothing for it but to gather myself once more. It,couldn’t and wouldn’t give up! I broke through my self-imposed bubble of pity and reminded myself why I was there, why I chose to do this, and opened my eyes to really see the breath-taking beauty surrounding me.
As always seems to be the case, with the rise of my optimism came the increase in enjoyment, and the decrease in pain. I seem to find time and again, after making the conscious choice to be positive, my body is able to deal better with pain, almost as though my mental anguish increases my physical struggles.
So there I found myself, as if cycling through a dream. Barely a soul to be seen, cars an infrequent sight, and to my absolute pleasure, hardly any real human footprint in the area. There was barely a building in view, just the wide open expanse of the treeless valleys. The occasional sheep, branded with bright paint, the most obvious sign of human life.
As I appreciated Doolough Valley for its barren landscape, I realised that the very thing I loved about it was the very thing that made it so foreboding. Sadly, it was this desolation that had taken so many lives during the years of the Great Famine.
In 1849 around 600 people made their way through this unforgiving landscape. Already starving, following sheep tracks and streams, it must have taken everything for them to reach the other end, where there was hope of food and help. Some died along the way from Louisburgh to Delphi, over ten miles in harsh conditions. One cannot even begin to imagine the feeling of despair those who reached their destination must have felt, when they discovered that they were to be refused help and must return through the emptiness. Stomachs still desperately aching, bodies so very weak.
It is not known how many people died of cold, hunger and exhaustion whilst battling the elements. Having read about this terrible historical event certainly made me appreciate my current situation even more. I was there by choice, feeling freedom and empowerment, with just enough traffic passing through that I need not worry about being stranded should anything happen to me. Even on wheels, the journey was long and difficult, to do it on foot, in such a desperate state? It left me with a deep sense of pride for the human spirit and a higher respect for the environment I travelled through.
As I continued on I was amazed to find that, so close to the sparse, misty, landscapes where I’d been surrounded by grey-blue lakes, and rocky, earthy coloured mountains, that the entrance to Connemara National Park was a wave of colour. Literally, as I saw the sign to the national park, colour hit (there is a picture to prove it!).
I pulled into Leenaun, planning to stay the night, but not knowing exactly where I could camp around the town (even after being given directions), eventually pushed me to continue to the next town. Riding was tough as I pushed on, an extra 20 km travelled that day than originally planned. Battling side winds along the road, which wound its way between the tufty mounds of the never-ending landscape.
Rain began to pour as I entered Letterfrack and began my mission of finding a place to lay my head for the night. I had hopes of camping within the national park (online research had given me reason to think it was possible), and cycled up a ridiculously long hill with that desire in mind. I soon discovered, however, any area that allowed camping would not be possible to access with my luggage. And so back down to the town I went. After asking in a couple of packed bars, everyone gathered to avoid the weather and to watch the sports, I was told it was okay camp on the grass in front of the business park opposite. Being a weekend, no one would be there until Monday and so it should be fine for a one night stay. Grateful of any bit of grass, and especially for the tree coverage which protected me from the onslaught of wind and rain, I set up camp, crawled in and lay down for the night. The day of so many landscapes, and so many emotions, was finally at a close.
