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July 10 Monday overcast Bicycle touring Ireland There was a huge thunderstorm during the night. The rain came down in waves. A one-inch piece of tarp overhung the uphill section of our tent fly. Sharon's rain pants were soaked in the morning, after sopping up water from that corner of the tent all night long. We should know better than that by now -- leaving the ground sheet hanging out. But, in the dark, anything can happen, and usually does. Not only was it soaked out there, but the wind was howling as well. All in all it looked pretty dismal. And I'm being optimistic. We packed up our soaked cycle touring tent and went to eat around the corner of the sandbar where it was more sheltered. We looked at the map and saw a forest indicated on it, about 30 kilometers away. Since we were already packed up, we figured we may as well head for the forest. Once we got underway and cycled off the point, it wasn't as windy. In Skibbereen, Ireland, when we stopped to buy groceries, other cyclists came over to talk to us. Chris and Julie are from Seattle. They have been doing cycle tours in Ireland for six weeks. They were just going for tea, so they invited us to join them. Chris is a carpenter; Julie is a social worker. They have traveled a lot, but they hadn't bicycle toured before. Julie has been to Vietnam and all over Asia. Chris has been to Poland. After tea, Chris and Julie caught a ferry over to Clear Island. Sharon and I cycled off, still headed for the forest. We considered taking the ferry over with Chris and Julie, but it cost $40 and the island is pretty small, so free camping might by impossible. It looks like there's only four kilometres of road on the island and since we just had a shower at the Rec centre in town, we don't need one tonight. At the store, I bought what must be termed a cholesterol overload, stocking up on rashers and large duck eggs. Yes, duck eggs. I even bought some home preserved gooseberry jam - right off the shelf, alongside the regular mass produced fare. Mine had a handwritten label: "Gooseberry." Might as well support the locals, I figured, as I picked up the jar. It had a little plastic wrap with an elastic band around the jar's neck. I shook my head, thinking this would never be sold this way in a large grocery store back home. Bought a sugar-loaded chocolate Swiss roll
(that looked more like a Squish roll once I dug it out of my
panniers at the end of the day). But, hey, it packs anywhere.
Tastes great, too. The flavour's locked inside. Sharon's rain pants are as wet, or wetter, from the humidity, as they were this morning after they had sopped up rainwater all night long. Picnic tables at the top provided a refuge only for a cloud of hungry no-see-ums. By the end of supper, Sharon remarked they had gone away. But I disagreed. I had killed them all. Unfortunately, reinforcements were sent. We hurriedly slapped at them while pitching our bicycle touring tent on a sloping semi-flat spot -- this time ensuring we got our orange ground tarp completely under tent. Once soaked, twice dry is my new motto. |
