Doing Dingle

 Today was a proper game of two halves. This morning being largely a struggle through the rain, endless hills, headwind and busy roads but this afternoon back to what I’ve become familiar with. Quiet, cracking scenery and acceptable hills. 

But I’ll get to that. 

I woke at 6am to the sound of rain. I then woke at 7:15 still to the sound of rain. I finally gave up around 8:30, still with rain but now with the added delight of the sound of a German chap in the tent next to me having a long, monotone, and very much one way conversation on his phone. With a huff, I shuffled out of my tent and took refuge in the campsite orangery. Well, an area covered by corrugated plastic with plants in it. And settled into coffee and pastries procured from last night’s SuperValu escapade.

By the time I’d finished, the rain had eased and I packed up ready to head off. As I was leaving, a fellow camper asked where I was off to. 

“Dingle”

“Oh that should only take you a couple of hours”

“On a bike??”

“Oh no, in a car. Cycling will take you much longer”.

Well she was right about that at least. 

Heading out of the campsite I joined the main road and quickly embarked on today’s stage of Audi: not Audi. 

Cutting to the chase, Audi had a disappointing day and dropped down to silver with Renault establishing a formidable lead. They will do well to lose it from here. Ford also dropped out of the medal positions with VW storming into bronze. Honda had a good attempt but sadly the driver was disqualified due to age / mild insanity. 

The main road offered few options for escape, and what options there were involved steep climbs and grassy roads.

The cloud was so thick that any views I may have had were largely non existent. Eventually however, I came across the South Kerry Greenway. Eventually it will form a 30km largely traffic free lane running along much of the route of the former railway. 2 sections are currently open, and both are superb. Their own website suggests that the opening of the remaining sections are “tbc”. Maybe they need the guys from Killarney to pop down and get it sorted. Either way, when it’s fully open it will be a game changer. Until then, we wait. And wait. 

The Greenway brought me into Glenbeigh and some enterprising soul had set up a quaint coffee bar at the end / start of the path. One coffee and brownie later, I was ready to carry on, but now it was raining. 

Back onto the main road again a fairly relentless 10km passed before I reached the end of the inlet and turned almost 360 degrees onto the Dingle peninsula. Immediately quieter and the rain seemed to then busy itself on the hills to my left and right, leaving the coast road - and me - quite dry. I was aiming for the interestingly named “Inch” where I hoped to get some food and water. 

No. 

I took a degree of solace and entertainment from the house art.

This left me little choice than to tackle the stiff climb up to what was being billed as “the finest sandwich shop in Dingle”. 

I hope it’s not. 

The scary looking sandwicheer asked me what I wanted. 

“I’m, do you have a menu?”

“No”

“OK, err, egg please”

“No egg.”

I was in a mild panic now, direct in the stare of the proprietor who had no interest in noting that I looked, and was, knackered.

“Chicken? And perhaps coleslaw?”

“White or brown”

I knew this one. 

“White please. Do you have any water?”

“No”

“Coke?”

“Maybe. Go look over there.”

I negotiated my way around boxes of unopened drink packets (I’m pretty sure at least one of them contained bottles of water), gratefully paid and sat outside to demolish the (arguably very good) sandwich. But then by that stage I’d have been grateful for a single slice of stale bread.

Once finished, I searched for a bin whereupon Mrs Sandwich came outside

“Would you like me to take your rubbish from you?”

“Er, yes please that would be great”

“No problem at all, have a great trip”.

I was confused. 

The sandwich was just the ticket as my legs sprang back into life and I counted down the km’s to Dingle. 

At Dingle, I had a choice:

1) Go to the campsite, drop off my tent and panniers and ride the c40km route around Slea Head, or 

2) Call it a day. 

I knew that if I went to the campsite I would never leave, so opted for 3) ride the Slea Head way fully loaded. 

I loved it. 

The roads were gentler and hugged an amazing coastline around the Head and back to Dingle. It was a superb stretch of road. 

The road passed a few sight of prehistoric interest, each trying to outdo one another:

“500BC fort”

“2,000 BC site”

I pondered whether the population of said historic sites  initially started the build of the South Kerry Greenway.

There were also some superbly Irish signs. My favourites:

“2km to the 10 minute walk to the fort”

“20km to the Blaskets visitor centre”. Wait, what?

The Blasket Islamds, it transpires, are on the most westerly edge of Europe. They comprise 6 islands and a series of other smaller outcrops. The last of the hardy population left the islands in the 1950’s. Remote, it certainly is. 

I arrived back in Dingle hungry, thirsty and fairly battered, and made for the campsite. I’d knocked up 140km, my longest ride since a certain six-way adventure up a certain French mountain some 2 years ago.

“Room for a small one?”

“Yep. 20 euro”

“Showers?”

“Help yourself, they’re free.”

I wondered why campsites in a part of the world where you can’t move for grass, were so relatively expensive. 

And then it suddenly dawned on me. Grassy fields in Southern Ireland are two a penny. Ones which happen to be flat are ludicrously rare.