Emerald

Then onward over the mountain
And outward towards the sea
They had come to claim the emerald
Without it they could not leave

(Emerald - Thin Lizzy)

A Bike Camping trip to Ireland wasn't actually our first choice; if the weather and circumstances had allowed us, we would have set out across the Alps towards Venice, taking in some of the famous alpine passes in the Dolomites on the way there, and then the Italian Alps via Lake Como on the way back.  A bit ambitious, some might say!  But dreaming big hasn't gone out of fashion amongst my friends....  However, a combination of available time, a house move (Jez wasn't free to travel), weather window, and (in my case) financial commitments meant we cut back to a simpler, more affordable adventure in Ireland.  And specifically, the dramatic Atlantic coastline of the Kerry Peninsula.

 
Having watched a handful of videos on YouTube, we were smitten by the visual appeal of the area, and there were a couple of places in particular, that we had to go and find.  One of those places was the Gap of Dunloe, another being Skellig Michael, the island made famous by "The Last Jedi".

Day 1 - Taunton to Wexford

Saturday morning sees us saddled up early and heading towards Pembroke Dock, unsurprisingly in Pembrokeshire, Wales!  We arrived in the town centre, which is only 5 minutes from the docks with well over two hours to spare, and sought out somewhere to get lunch.  We spotted a branch of "The Golden Arches", which is always an easy sell.  Scott schooled me in the art of getting a proper day-long feed, by purchasing something along the lines of a Chicago Stack meal, and no less than 4 additional sandwiches - a couple of cheeseburgers, and a couple of McChicken's.  It goes without saying that he didn't need to eat anything else all day....

We fuelled up, just outside the docks, and checked-in for the ferry. When it came time to board, we were surprised how quickly the boat was loaded, and in no time at all, we were right up on the top deck, watching the world go by.  The Isle of Innishmore is quite a sizeable ferry, capable of carrying over 800 vehicles.  Today however, it was probably no more than 100, including the truck trailers.

As we cleared the port, and set sail towards the mouth of the Daugleddau estuary, we started wearing those silly grins you get when you actually are on holiday!  Manoeuvring a 30,000 tonne vessel is a slow and precise job, so it takes a good hour to clear the port of Milford Haven, and to round the headland at St. Ann's Head.  

The ferry opens up the throttle, and soon we are passing the dramatic coastal islands of Skokholm & Skomer.  The Pembrokshire coastline curving around St Brides Bay towards St. David's looks fantastic, and worthy of a revisit in it's own right.  

As the Welsh coast falls behind us, we grab a coffee and a forward facing seat, to await the Irish coastline coming into view.  When it does appear, it's a much less impressive sight than the one we left behind; it's very low level, and appears quite dull.

We disembark at Rosslare Harbour, and form an orderly queue with the other cars & bikes for the Garda station before the exit to the port.  As I approach the officer, I am thrown by the simple question that he asks me:

"Where have you come from?"     

"Erm....... (grind, whir, process... what does he mean?.. Oh yeah...)..... Somerset"  

"OK.  You can go."

"OK.  Thanks...."

We track the road into Wexford to locate our first campsite, and stop at an Aldi to purchase supplies.  Frankly, Wexford looks a bit of a hole; move along, nothing to see here gov'.  Over the River Slaney bridge, we arrive at the Ferrybank campsite.

Now, it's worth mentioning here, that we booked this campsite based on one criteria, and one alone; it was the closest campsite to Rosslare Harbour that was open.  It was a little expensive at €20 for the pitch, but the closest other option was over an hour away.  At first glance it appeared reasonable.  We started to pitch the tents on the driest part of the bank, overlooking the estuary.

Unlike any other campsite I have ever experienced, we were the only people in tents.  It slowly dawned on us that just about everybody else on the site had a caravan.  Large German caravan's, and large German towcars.  But more than that, each caravan had laundry, pushchairs, assorted toys, and barbecues outside, and each looked like it was very settled, maybe having parked up for several weeks.......

Suddenly,it seemed rather difficult to relax, realising that we may have pitched in the middle of a transit camp!  A transit camp in which the only toilet block open was right at the other end of the site, and where the shower block was closed until 09:00 the next morning.  Something didn't smell right, and for a change, it was going to be us.... We hunkered down early, having agreed to set alarms for 06:00, and to get the heck out of Dodge ASAP in the morning.  We didn't have to wait that long to be woken up.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Pause

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

We were both awake now....

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.  "I swear on my dead father, that if you don't open it, I'll break it down".  BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

It was 01:00, and the "lady" next door had been locked out of her caravan by her man, who was, we presume, slightly the worse for wear.  We had seen him leave for the pub (driving) before it got dark, but we hadn't heard him return before we turned in for the night.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

This went on for a while, before the door was grudgingly opened, and the now muffled, but still murderous racket carried on for another 15 minutes.  I don't imagine the children got much sleep.  It was now seriously cold, and getting back to sleep proved to be rather difficult.  I drifted back in and out of consciousness and eventually got some kip before....

Day 2 - Wexford to Killarney

....the alarm woke me at 06:00.  On a Sunday morning.  Who does that kind of thing?  Seriously?

After a minute, I remembered where I was, and the object of the exercise - to get away from "Camp Transit-Hell" as fast as possible!  I pulled my bike gear on, packed my bags as best as possible, and then headed for the toilet block at the far end of the site, with toothbrush and flannel in hand.  The tents were covered in a fine layer of frost, as was the ground and the rooftops of the surrounding buildings.  The sky was crystal clear, and the sun quite fierce for an April morning.  We were confident that the tents would dry out, but packed them beneath our Lomo drybags, so the wind could help dry them out as we rode.

I wolfed a protein bar, washed it down with half a litre of cranberry juice, and hoped that would suffice until we could find a decent breakfast or brunch opportunity.  The campsite gate lifted and we were underway on the dot of 07:00

County Wexford early on a Sunday morning was very quiet, and we travelled for around 45 minutes before we saw any significant traffic, as we approached Waterford.  We cut through the town centre, to avoid the toll section of the N25, and continued in the direction of Cork.  The scenery started to change, and became a little wilder, and as we approached Dungarvin we skirted around the south west end of the Comeragh Mountains.

Skimming the outskirts of Dungarvin, we spotted a Maccy D's.  This was the perfect time to stop and get a hot coffee and a cooked breakfast.  I'm no expert, but I'd say the the Double Sausage & Egg McMuffin is one of the world's truly great breakfast foods, at any time of day!

Back in the saddle, and onto the N25, we touched the coast momentarily, before powering up a long gentle hill with vast expansive views of fertile farmland.  The warm sun, the clear sky, roads still empty and we were eating up the miles to Cork and beyond.  After momentarily losing touch on the outskirts of Cork, where a combination of roundabout, traffic lights and a tunnel meant we lost comms, we reconnected on the other side of the country's second city, picked up the N71 and headed towards the Beara Peninsula and the town of Clonakilty.  Famous as the birthplace of revolutionary political leader Michael Collins, it's also home to the oddest petrol station ever, accessed at the back of the Super Valu supermarket.  If you go there, look it up...

We headed inland to get to Bantry via Dunmanway.  At Drimoleague we ground to a halt as what appeared to be a funeral was underway.  A funeral on a Sunday???  Hundreds of people on foot, and a handful of cars and minibus's all trying to cross the unmanaged junction in the village centre.  Stop lines seem to be a rarity at junctions, and I find it hard to judge right-of-way.

As we approach the back of Bantry, we are comprehensively overhauled by a group of half-a-dozen locals on sports bikes, who obviously know the road well, and pull out to overtake where most of us would hesitate to even take a peek!  I'm almost run off the road by a blind old goat in a black BMW X5, who starts to pull out of a side road, despite the fact I am glaring him in the (blind?) eye from less than 20 metres away as I approach him.  F%*$ing idiot.

We kiss the shore of Bantry Bay opposite Whiddy Island, through Bantry, and on to Tragarriff where we turn inland to head for The Priests Leap.  This is a steep, narrow, single track winding mountain road on the border of counties Cork and Kerry on the Wild Atlantic Way.  Any road with grass growing in the middle, assorted cattle, sheep & goats roaming freely, and rapid changes of direction and incline, requires your full concentration.  This is a properly dangerous road if ridden carelessly, but boy oh boy, what a thrill it is to get to the top.  And the views...... To the south you have Bantry Bay and to the west and north you have the Caha Mountains, and in the distance, the MacGillycuddy’s Reeks on the Kerry Peninsula.  Some of these peaks were still snow capped.

We stopped for a good half an hour, just taking the magnificence of the views onboard.  Amazed to discover we had a strong 4G signal, we both took the opportunity to update family with Facetime or Hangouts videocalls.  "Look where we are.....!"

As we were getting ready to leave, a Transit van parked up just opposite us, planting his front right wheel in a ditch, leaving his rear-left wheel floating 6 inches in the air.  As this was an older rear wheel drive Transit, there was no way he was getting out under his own power! Another van and an SUV had arrived, and the driver of the Transit was asking for a tow.  I said don't bother - if a bunch of us hang onto the ladder at the back of the van, the wheel will be brought back into contact with the ground, and he should be able to reverse out.  It's amazing how many people you can get hanging on the back of a van - I think there were 6 of us in the end.  It worked!

We set off down the north bound single track road for Killarney, which was now only around 55 km away, and within the hour we were pulling into Fleming's White Bridge Caravan & Camping site.  This was a different world from the previous night's digs.  Despite only being a hundred metres from the N22 trunk road, and situated alongside a railway, it was quiet, peaceful and the daytime soundscape dominated by the sound of the River Flesk and birdsong.

We pick a quiet spot which is still really close to the shower & potwash block, and pitch the tents.  We have the luxury of a narrow concrete track alongside, which is perfect for parking the bikes on, and also doubles as a useful spot for food prep.

Scott gifts the world with "BikeTV"©.  Combining site-wide WiFi, SkyGo, an iPhone, a gorilla mount and the GS's crash bars, we are able to settle in and catch up on F1 Azerbaijan Grand Prix in Baku.  It's the most unique way to watch a race, and won't be forgotten in a hurry!

And so, a cigar and a couple of beers see's the evening out, and as the sun sets I zip up the flysheet and settle in for sleep.  Apparently, I start snoring before I've even finished zipping up my tent.... really!!!

To be continued....