Thanks Ireland

I do not have long, but I did want to wrap up a few thoughts abuot Ireland as I am no longer there.  It was sad to say goodbuy to Peg as she caught the last plane out of Ireland, and I was pretty happy to say hello to Dena on the same day when she caught the last plane into Ireland. 

Also before departing Ireland, we got to spend another evening out with Mags, a friend of a friend, biker, and Dublin local who showed us some great pubs, shared some insider comments about Dublin´s interesting places, and was very helpful.  In fact, she arranged for us to leave our bikes at her Dad´s house while we were at the Oxegen festivle.

In summing up the results, it turns out that we cycled 832  miles of Ireland, not always in the rain, but also not always in the sun.  Often times in the wind, and only once that I can think of without a helmet.  (for only about a mile-it wasn´t my fault, really).

When Dena arrived we switched gears and started thinking about Spain.  The first decision to make was: do we go to Spain?  When Dena arrived in Dublin, her bike didn´t.  We went to sleep that night withiout a bike and an appointment to leave at 3 am to catch the flight to Santander.  Anyhow, we cashed in all our karma points because when we woke up, the hostel had posted a sign that said: STAGGS, WE HAVE YOUR BIKE! as the airport had delivered it sometime in the middle of the night.  Off to Santander!

Fiesta

I’ve been avoiding this blog post because whatever words I write cannot do justice to the good time that was Oxegen.  It’s hard to describe the sensation of 100,000 plus fans, crammed into a huge make-shift city, all excited about music and the necessary evils that come with it.  WOW.  I’ve never been to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, or Time Square, New York on New Years Eve, but I don’t think I need too anymore.  I’ve been to the Oxegen festivle, Ireland.

For me it was all about the music.  The pinnicle was seeing the Pogues. After their set, I really felt that I could die satisfied.  One of our campsite neighbours, John (cyclist whoi chares a birthday with me) said, DO NOT MISS THE POGUES.  I was not planning on it (even thought the Kaiser Chiefs were playing the main stage at the same time) but his reason was different from what I expected.  John stressed to me that IF Shane McGowen (lead singer) made it to the show, he might just keel over and die at anytime, so see them while you can.  “And also see them because they are absolutely brilliant.”  Which they were.  They played a bunch of older songs including Fiesta and  Bottle of Smoke.  These are songs off an early album called If I should Fall from Grace with God which my parents have on vinyl.  My uncle Bob had no idea the profound influence he had on my musical tastes when he bought me that CD as a mere youngster, probably as a birthday present or something.  Cheers Bob, the next Guinness I’ll raise is for you!  And Shane McGowen.  Me he live long and prosper; well, prosper anyway because according to the Irish, the live long part may not happen!

Another interesting part of the festivle was that the eco-green undertones.  One would not think of it as “clean” after looking at the field after any given set, but the beer cups actually cost three Euros, and another five to get them full.  So after filling it up a few times, one might forget that the cups were actually worth something, and multiple times did we have our beers paid for because cups were left around, all in the name of good eco-green concert going.  In fact, once or twice, we had enough cups that they actually PAID us to drink beer.  And every time that happened, I’d walk out of line and lean over to Peg and say, “I love this country.”  But I’d still love it even if they didn’t pay me to drink beer.

So the camping part was debauchery at its finest.  As we came to find out, Oxegen is something of a rite of passage for the Irish equalivent of our high school seniors finishing their final exams.  Also, the drinking age is 18.  Need I say more?  I won’t pull the: I’m too old for this line(NO-I HAVE NOT YET TURNED 30), but if I were to do the camoing part again, I’d upgrade to the green campsite where the tents are in rows and where my tent might not get a football kicked THROUGH it.  And where I can sleep and and not have to worry about anything nearby burning.  I’ll stop there.  The sleeping came more out of necessity and fatigue, not desire.  The camping was convienent however, just a short one mile walk from the music venue (even though it felt more like four after being on the feet all day).  And bcause I like a party, there  was definitely a constant party that did not stop at any hour of the four days.  In the end, camping was all good fun, or good Craich (pronounced crack–the Irish word for FUN).

So more about the music, the hidden gem was a band called Reverend and the Makers, a British band that was absolutely brilliant.  Other highlights were Band of Horses, Alabama 3, Sparkadia, Powderfinger, My Morning Jacket who were just great, an Irish fellow named Paddy Casey, Ben Folds who played a great set, and an extremely pleasant surprise was REM.  I’m no longer scared of turning 30 because Michael Stipe did it years ago and he is still kicking ass.  I truely thought those guys were done, but their set blew me away.  My fandom has been reinvigorated.  Peg and I got down pretty close for their songs.  I also really enjoyed Rage Against the Machine.  I don’t think I’ll ever need to see them again, but they were phenominal.  “Some of those that burn crosses, are the same that hold office!“  Ahh, leave it up to Rage to get the fists in the air and the energy thumping.  Things did get a little crazy for their set on Sunday night.

It was fun knowing only one person of the 100,000 (that person being Peg), because it was really easy to make decisions and plans about which bands to see.  But being in Ireland meant that we wouldn’t run into any of our friends, (or worse because I’m a teacher–my students).  On the way in on Friday afternoon however, I started chatting with a British bloke named Alex because I liked his shirt.  (It said: Proud to be Awesome)!  Anyhow, we got a photograph and wished him well and were on our way.  No sooner did the first band hit the stage on Saturday (the next day) when I hear a “Hey Patrick!” from accross the field.  Sure enough, I have friends!  Alex had spotted us out.  Great guy; we ended up seeing him again that day and on Sunday where I actually hooked up with his group and partied with those folks for a bit.  He is the one who recommend I see Reverend and the Makers.

Anyhow, I could write about this for ages, but I have to make a few logistical moves for the next leg of the trip.  Maybe one or two more posts before Spain!

Breathe in Oxegen

Today we are back in Dublin.  It was surprisingly easy to step onto a train in Cork city and then four hours later, magically appear in this strangely familiar city.  The bicycling leg of this trip is now finished and Peg and I are turning our focus to the Oxegen festivle.  Just in case you hadn’t heard, this is Ireland (and one of Europe’s) premier concert events, consisting of three days of music on four or five stages.  (For the record, I am most excited to see The Pogues, Powderfinger, My Morning Jacket, the Kaiser Chiefs, and of course the headliners, Rage Against the Machine and REM.  Oh yeah, and Amy WInehouse if she can make it–they have to let her out of rehab–hahaha).

To wrap up the biking part, I’ll blog again after I’m back from Oxegen with some stats about our ride–mostly mileage and the like.  I’d do it now but I’m tired and I left all that stuff upstairs.  In the meantime I have to tell you about our last few days in Cork.  We went out both of the evenings and met some intersting people.  For starters, I met a pair of travellers (Bessa and Rachel Ann I believe) who both hailed from California.  Making it an even smaller world, Bessa is pretty connected to the SCICON community (the outdoor school I used to work at).  Go figure.

And then we met the Sam’s.  There were 10 of these blokes, all from just outside of London, all having just finished our USA equallivant of high school, and three of them were named Sam.  I think two of them were also named Joshua.  Anyhow, they had gotten themselves involved in a bike ride themselves (from Dublin to Cork, just like Peg and myself, but by a bit more direct of a route.)  We covered the gamut of conversation: sports, football, jobs, travel, beer, radiohead, gap years, even the altogether possibility that many of them will have the word DORK tattooed somewhere onto their bodies before the weekend is over, to represent their ride from Dublin to cORK, hence the work DORK. Whatever works for you fellows!  It was a most enjoyable way to sign off from Cork; a grungy city with the right amount of beauty, architecture, modernism, swank articulation, and dirty grit that makes a city have personality and character.  I’ll miss it there.

But now it’s time for Oxegen and the people here in Dublin are fired up about it.  The billboards are flying high, there are people on the street selling tickets, and buying tickets, and making arrangements.  Because here it comes, the premier event of the summer . . . and I get to go!  (I think its at www.oxegen.ie if you are interested).  I’ll let you know how great it rocks in a few days when I return.

The sunny south

I am in Kinsdale, probably the most southern I will get in all of Ireland.  After biking into Cork city a day or so ago, I have taken a few day trips out from our homebase there.  The weather has rained less than normal (watch out–I do still have to bike back to Cork, two or so hours) and tomorrow we head back to Dublin (by train or bus) to get ready for the Oxegen Festivle!  Which starts on Friday and lasts all weekend.

Kinsale is beautiful.  There are tight little roads, steep hills, boats on the water, and colorful buildings, including red and purple, orange, and yellow, and the ever impressive: GREEN, in every shade.  I’m not much inclined to shop, but here in Kinsale, there is something enticing about the windows and the colors that can just draw one in through the door.  I say to myself: hum, what kind of trouble can i get into in this shop?

One such shop was a bookstore in which over an hour dissapeared while I read about another possible trip I might make someday: to New Zeland!  Then I went into a cafe and ordered a pizza.  Can’t go wrond with Itilian, even in Ireland.  I almost bought an Ireland football jersey, but they didn’t have exactly what I wanted.  And of course (speaking of food), I have introduced Peg to food window shopping.  That’s when you walk buy all the pastry and bread shops and pick what you’d eat without buying or tasting.  I think it might catch on in the states pretty soon.  Doctors and health care professionals are finding it to be quite lower calorie than actual consumption, and almost equally as enjoyable!

Speaking of calories, I have to bike back to Cork city now, and I have to do it faster than the rain can catch me.  In the meantime, there are a few mountains between here and there and some old fort to check out, so I have to run.  Maybe one more posting before Oxegen, whose to say?

Left turns are Easy

At the start of each biking day I say to Peg: I think we should bike on the left today, what do you think?  and Peg usually agrees.  It’s this simple reminder that keeps us in check and lets us know that these cars are real, not just images moving accross a screen in our minds.  It’s also a reminder that yes, we truely are in Ireland.  There are a few dicey road but mostly country lanes that take us where we want to go with the occasional fast car zooming by.

I won’t say that Irish drivers are respectful to bikers, but they definitely are not disrespectful.  I never get honked at, and if an oncoming car is approching, they patiently wait untill it is safe to pass.  The roads here are skinnier, the cars are far smaller, and the vegetation climb onto the roads.  At least, on the country roads that we have been biking on.

Every once in a while, we get on the entrance ramp to a major highway and one of stops and says how its time to re-evaluate our route.  We both prefer more miles to supersonic high-speed low-drag highways.  Neither Peg or myself is high-speed or low-drag.  Which reminds me about road stops for snacks.  It’s great burning all these calories, because we can eat whatever we want.  In most towns there is a SPAR or a Cantra, our equivalent of 7-11 meets a supermarket.  There is quick snack food and bottled sodas, but also fresh baked bread and more gorceries-type of stuff.  The bread is always fresh and there are scones and pastries, and hot food as well, LIKE CHICKEN AND MUSHROOM PIES!  Yum, one of my weaknesses.

Some things they don’t include are pretzles and sodas from a fountain, to of my favorites.  You can also get this stuff called Lucozade.  It’s carbonated, caffinated energy drink.  I had seen som many empty bottles on the side of the road that one day I decided to get some.  Without even reading the label, I shook it up and opened it.  The stuff went everywhere, including all over myself.  Shoud have read the label.  No more Lucozade for me.  At least the signs are not hard to read . . . except for the oned written in Irish (we call it Galic, but the Irish folks call it Irish).  Until the next food stop then, I’ll stick with luke warm water from my water-backpack and I’ll keep reminding myself that left turns are easy, left turns are easy.

Pop the Cork!

Yesterday I rode my bike from County Kerry to County Cork.  I get the feeling that counties here are like states for us.  Each county is also represented by a Galic Football team.  Galic football is much like Aussie rules football, which is an eclectic combination of soccer, usa football, rugby, volleyball, and wrestling.  Here in Ireland however, I’d call it mud wrestling given the rain.  In addition to the two different counties, I also did this ride on a Sunday, the big Galic football day here in Ireland.  And it just so happens that Cork was playing Kerry in a championship game.

So of course Peg and I had to drop into a pub to watch the match.  It was very interesting how busy the roads were before and after the game.  What also caught my eye was the loyality of the fans.  All morning we were seeing Kerry colors (yellow and green) on flags, in front of houses, on jerseys, and hung up in the streets.  As soon as we crossed the County Cork line, there was nothing but red and white, and it was everywhere.  Interestingly enough, church was just letting out when we were passing through Rathmore, a town just on the Kerry side of the border.  Because Peg and I had just stopped in a shop for snacks, I am convinced that people wore their jerseys to church that day.

We had made it to Cork by the time the game started so of course I put on my red shirt to try to fit in.  Peg and I were very excited about getting a few pints and hollaring with the locals.  We even went so far as to ask a few locals (a priest included) what was the best pub in town town to watch the match.  “Any of them I suppose.”  We found one alright and sat down just in front of a lovely flat screen TV and not too far from the bar. 

But as soon as were were seated in the warm room in a nice booth, the food seemed much more enticing than the beer.  I got the cream of carrot and potato soup.  It hit the stomach quite well and before we could say Guinness is good for you, Kerry had a whopping lead over Cork, and Peg and I were about to pass out from exhaustion, right there in the pub.  (We had just biked the Ring of Kerry Charity Cycle the day before).  Our adopted team for the day was loosing, it was half time, and we were about to fall asleep at the bar: all sure signs to leave.  As soon as we got up to go, we realized our one sure sign to STAY: a hard driving rain.  Ouch.

We waited for the bulk of the rain to pass and rode on.  I was a bit spooked to leave as we didn’t know where we were going to stay that night and there weren’t too many towns between our location and our destination (Macroom).  But what the heck, lets bike some and get a bit wet.

Surprisingly enough, the one town we did pass through along the next 20 or so kilometers, there was a pub and as we rode by, I heard yelling from the inside of the street.  Could Cork be pulling off an amazing comeback?  This thought buzzed through my head as we sped past in the cold wet rain.

Sure enough, when we arrived in Macroom (County Cork-obviously), the flags and jerseys and red and white and screams and traffic was enough to tell us that Cork had pulled off the come-from-behind victory, and the people of Cork wanted the rest of Ireland and the world to know.  (Through all this, Peg and I decided to sleep inside for the evening and not camp out so we were knocking on doors of all the B and B’s in town, to no avail–every single person in the town was coming home from or going out to celebrate the victory).  This was nothing like I had ever seen.  The victory was confirmed when we asked the one person left, Eileen who would take us in for the evening, what the outcome of the game had been.  Coincidently, we had to wait for her arrival as well as she had left a sign on the door: will return in 30 minutes.

In the end, we picked the wrong half to watch.  But we also were able to procure a lovely spot to sleep at a Bed and Breakfast in the town of Macroom.  Also, we were tired from biking 110+ miles the day before; we should have rallied a bit and watched the second half, but it’s not like the Baltimore Orioles were playing the Washington Nationals in the World Series or anything.  Which reminds me, when’s the MLB all-star break?

The Ring of Kerry Charity Cycle

I awoke an hour before my alarm, at 5:30 am, with rain pounding against the stained-glass sky light in our hostel dorm.  The only though in my mind was that biking 112 miles in this weather is the last thing i want to do.  (Well, maybe not the LAST thing, but pretty high up there on the list of NOT FUN).  An hour later, the rain was only softly pattering aginst the glass; and by the end of breakfast, it was a mere mist.  THis might just be a good day afterall.

We headed down to the town centre where the ride was departing to find cyclists in every single walk of life.  Old and young, racers and cruisers, men and women, old-timers and kids, and bikes to match.  SOme bikes were high-speed, low-drag, and some look like they hadn’t been moved or oiled since the FIRST annual Ring of Kerry Charity Cycle (This was the 25th mind you).

After some dignitaries made some speeches and the local bishop said a prayer, we were off.  The sun actually came out for the start but it was before the bishop had made his blessing, so he made some comment about “Don’t thank me yet for the weather, I haven’t said the prayer yet.”  That got a chuckle from the crowd.

Just before we departed, I took my jacket off and didn’t need it again until we got a brief smattering of rain at mile 90.  Not bad; the bishop did well.  Or God, depending on who you ask.  Regardless, that was one of the main comments from the collective, “Thank goodness the weather held.”  One rider said it rained 2 inched today alone in Wexford, to the south east of Ireland–the Ring of Kerry is in the southwest).

One great thing about this event was that it brought many Irish people who share the similar interest of cycling together, which is a unique spot to be in.  Over the course of the 112 miles, I had plenty to chat about with the locals.  One fellow Sean, was actually from England but moved to County Cork nine years ago because he “just got bored.”  That’s my style.  We had plenty to talk about; too bad I could barely talk as we were riding up giant hills at a whopping 19 miles per hour.  And on my mountain bike.  He had to keep the pace moving as he was still in front of his mates, all of which were younger than him.  So he had something to prove.

I on the other hand did not, so I wished him well at the food stop and relaxed a bit.  But I did not relax much as that competitive edge got the best of me and I wanted to get a good pace going, which was absolutely easy to do when another pack of racers whould cruise on by, and I would go with them.

Speaking of food stops!  Scones, already buttered, jam on the side, porter cake (wich is kind of like fruit cake but far better and usually made with Guinness), iced muffins, chocolate chip muffins, bannannas, mars bars, water, rasin bread, and HOT TEA!  It was a dream.

And speaking of dreams!  Wow the scenery.  It was sort of like Jurrasic park meets Gorillas in the Mist.  Large down hills, huge trees, huge mountains, rock, green, waterfalls, water, climbs, descents, Killarney National Park (most of the last 30 km in fact), and even a few sheep and cows thrown in to make sure you were still in Ireland!

In the end, I biked all l 112 miles which included a loop though town to show off our accomplishments and to explain what the charity ride was all about.  I forget the specific names of charities benefitted, but most of them were for Irish kids and families of people with disabilities.  Many reps from the benefeciaries came out to work the food stations and they were as grateful for our ride as we were for their food.  I told one of them that I though they were working as hard as we, the cyclists were!  She smiled but disagreed.  I don’t know.  Other stats include: average speed-15.8mph, max speed-34.8 (I think–but still the highest of the trip), total riders-2000ish, good times-too many to count, and the cost of it all-priceless!

Happy Independence Day

Peg and I celebrated the fourth of July in fine style yesterday, by calling into a pub here in Kilarney aptly named :Mustang Sally’s.  WE saw the starts and stripes written in the name and had to go have a beer, for the sake of our grand ole country.  We both had Budweiser.  It’s funny, but the Budweiser here is just as bad as the Bud in the USA and it is far more expensive.  Ha, imports!

We asked the bloke behind the bar if Irish folks actually drank the stuff and he said it was a really popular beer.  Weird.  Good thing we were only having one; I don’t know if I could have taken anymore with the shining Guinness tap right next to the Bud tap.

As we sat in the pretty quiet pub, we got to reading quotes from great Americans out of Peg’s passport.  Then, we went so far as to ask the bar tender if this was an “American” bar.  (Our line of thinking was that in the USA, we go to traditional “Irish pubs.”  He said that it was more of a young persons bar.  We asked him why and he said that older folks usually see the stairs and just keep right on walking.  Peg and I had a good laugh on our way out, mimicking “old people” with a hobble.  Too bad we were only kind of kidding because Pegs knees were screaming at her and I was feeling a bit tired myself.

In the end, there were no fireworks or barbeques, but the fun was yet to come on tomorrow’s ride.  Happy Fourth of July America!

Kilarney National Park

Here it is on the fourth of July, my favorite holiday, and I find myself visiting an national park ni a foreign country.  not bad.  and there were cows grazing on the land here in this national park, unheard of by the department of the interior. 

It’s a bit strange what got us here today.  after riding the Dingle loop in one day, Peg and I  were planning on riding back out to the Dingle Penninsula together, this time by a different route.  we did and when we arrived, we learned that there is no cross-bay ferry to take us to the ring of Kerry,  (one penninsula to teh south).  Rather than bike all that over agan, and to save Pegs bum knees, we threw our bikes on a bus and hitched a ride to Kilarney.  We started early and were well on our way when we stopped at teh national park, only a few miles out of town.  That’s when we learned about tomorrow’s “25th Annual Ring of Kerry Charity Cycle.”  The entire ring of Kerry (112 miles-a keen number of miles for any Ironman triathlete-that’t the distance of the bike leg) all in one day, with support for when you need it, and a challenge for all.  So had the ferry been running, we would not be able to participate in tomorrow’s ride.  Apparently, the ring od Kerry is something to take a few days to “do” even in a car, but I like the challenge of it, it’s for a good cause (which we were not able to ascertain what that cause was) and it’s a pretty main event here in southwest Ireland.

Were also staying at this really unique little hostel instead of camping what with the distance of the ride and and the rain that has descended once again on the town.  The hostel has really long corridors that remind me of 518 Canning St, the house I lived in in Melbourne, Australia.  There is artwork on the ceilings along with tapestries and mirrors and several hundred tea cups hanging from hooks.  and upstairs, you have to duck to not hit your head to walk along the corridor. 

The facade on the front is painted bright red and yellow and green, and ther eare many bikes lined up along the front.  it’s looks great next to the fifty-four star hotel that is right next door.  i’m sure the high paying customers love having this hostel next door. 

well, it’s five Euro per hour to write these words, and I’ve got to go get ready for tomorrow’s big ride of the ring of Kerry.

Dingle all the Way

When we first arrived on the Dingle Penninsula, a priority for me was to get some blueberries or strawberries, and make some coment about: “check it out, were eating Dingle Berries!”  Or we could say:  ”The Dingle ate my baby.”  It doesn’t matter how many puns you come up with about the name: Dingle, the scenery is absolutely stunning.  Just jaw dropping georgus.  The hardest decision I had to make yesterday was should I look to the left, or to the right?

To my right was Dingle Bay and it’s confluence with the Atlantic Ocean, instantlly conduring up images and memories of friends and family at the outer banks of North Carolina.  White ocean foam and sandy beaches.  To my left was California with huge mountains, towering up above me, green and shining as only Ireland rain could produce.  So gosh, what do I do?  Well, i guess I’ll just look to the centre!  And see both! 

I think I always try to remember old images or places when I visit new places; what was happening to me yesterday was: California meets North Carolina meets Kenai Penninsula, Alaska meets New Zeland.  (Even though I’ve never been to New Zeland-but I have seen the Lord of the Rings Trilogy).  ANyhow, I suppose the same way I get that island feel that i got at the Aran Islands, there is a feel or auora to Penninsulas.  It is a bit more subtle however.  But I just had a majestic feeling while climbing Connar Pass.

Connar Pass is a 615 meter or so pass that starts at the ocean and extends to the highest reaches of Ireland, right off the coast.  I wanted to throw up in pain, scream out in exuberance for the wild scenery, and reach the sky for the altitude. 

Tony (Jessica’s dad) put it right when he told me, SEE DINGLE!  Nothing else matters.  Wait for a sunny day . . . and for the moment (despite a few passing rain showers-the weather held and the sky was clear)  After eating Dinlge berries, visiting this amazing coast line was the least I could do!