Woke up all ready for a nice calm medium length ride and found a flat.
The damage I did at that last triathlon had returned. The wound in the kevlar I found last weekend had fallen victim to some debris I picked up yesterday. I’ve ordered a new tire, but it hasn’t arrived yet.
So I took off the old tire, pulled out the tube, found the leak was in the same place. Checked the liner there for any junk that’s going to hurt the next tube and cleaned the frame.
I have the my front tire died and my new one hasn’t arrived yet blues. A friend suggested there’s a song for that:
That song applies even when the bike is in working order..
Well I’m back in this space. As I said here previously, and sparingly, in the last month, there hasn’t been a lot going on here. I’ve been doing work and catching up on the blog with all of the photos and videos and experiences of our Irish and English and cruise adventures. Scroll down to see them all.
Otherwise there were the few other things that I mentioned here. And then there was a little bit of riding and some running and eating healthy things and cutting back on a few of the unhealthy things and petting the cat and enjoying what has heretofore been a mild summer and so on.
There is a bridge close to home that has been out for forever, at least since March It is on a two-lane country road that drops down and bottoms out at the creek bed. And it is a little bridge, the name of the water ends with the word creek. Why it is has taken so long to repair or replace the bridge is a mystery.
I could ride over the bridge, so closed is something of an open proposition at this point. But the crew was still working on it, well into the evening hours. Behind me, as I enjoyed a bit of shade and some water and pondering my new plan — because I had intended to go over that bridge, back up the other side and over one of the bigger hills we have here, but now I can’t — a deputy sheriff pulled up. She’d driven down to see if she could find out how much longer this bridge work was going to take.
So it is safe to assume no one knows.
Recently the county received $15.6 million from the state for road projects, so we’ll see more orange barrels in the future, I’m sure. It seems the county planners are looking at other bridges.
So I ended up going a different route this evening. I went up roads I normally go down, and down roads I normally go up. It never fails to amaze me how much of a difference that makes.
Stopped at one red light and found the large gouge in my front tire that likely contributed to my triathlon flat. It looks like a puckering stab wound, but without the blood. It is a kevlar tire, and kind of slow anyway, so I’ll wind up replacing that soon.
Speaking of good rides, this is one of the best finishes of the year, I’m sure. Taylor Phinney is one of my favorite riders:
The other big news is that we dropped Charter. After three years of poor service, shoddy repairs and entirely inept customer service — the kind which somehow managed to cost us money — we’ve moved on to Directv. We’ll miss the TiVos, which I considered the greatest entertainment technology to emerge in a generation, but they’ve been replaced by needlessly complicated user interfaces and more channels and cheaper bills and a signal that, so far, just seems to work.
Tonight we were taking advantage of some of the On Demand features to catch up on Parks and Recreation. There are no large commercial breaks, which is nice, but in between segments they have inserted new The More You Know PSAs. And they aren’t especially good.
Based on these commercials the biggest problems we, as a society face, are password security, retiring teachers and plate size. Also among the things that we should be concerned about are how we are not dancing during commercials, being green on dates and being an actual, you know, an actual parent.
Some of them are just silly.
And another about recycling … handcuffs?
Considering the audience they’re aiming at … why are they aiming that?
Back again tomorrow, as we return to something approaching normal around here once again.
We took the ferry from Galway over to Inishmore, which was a trip not without its are-we-going-the-right-way-will-we-make-it-on-time-where-are-our-ferry-tickets drama. We did go the right way. We made it on time, but only barely. There was a situation with the tickets, but it wasn’t the end of the world. We made it onto the ferry, a different kind of vessel entirely, this time bouncing over the same types of waves. But not as big. And people still got sick.
Adam and Jessica did some shopping and relaxing. We wanted to see a bit more of the island and ride bikes. First we saw a horse:
And then I got to ride in this. People don’t believe me when I say how much I enjoy the weather, but this is the most fun kind of riding:
And since I didn’t bring any sunglasses — no sun! — I just rode in my glasses, which looked like this instantly and constantly:
My rental, an almost brand new Felt mountain bike. That’s the same company as my road bike. And while I have no desire, ever, to do mountain bike riding, this is a sweet little rig. Though it is heavy.
The other problem? I can’t see the cassette. I have no idea what gear I’m in back there!
But we got to ride on roads like this. How perfect is this?
And down here is a rock beach where the seals come in. We saw one down there, but he scurried off before we got close:
Some of the other brave road warriors that we met in the rain:
I mentioned the Burren region the other day, here’s an interesting example of the sheets of rock you see here. And, for whatever reason, the grass that grows through there is incredibly nutrient-rich for the livestock.
We rode up to one tail end of the island, until we could ride no more, and then we walked up to Dún Aengus, which has been called “the most magnificent barbaric monument in Europe.”
Three dry-stone ramparts and part of a fourth, with the outermost closing in 11 acres.
If you’ll look to the left of that picture above it just seems as if the fort is floating in the air. For good reason. It overlooks the Atlantic Ocean and dominates the surrounding landscape as the highest point on the island. No sneaking up on this place, so it was both offensive and defensive. And also possibly cultural. Or religious. And, if anything like the mainland forts, it might have also once marked a territorial boundary.
Frustrating historians and archeologists, this site was a multi-generational endeavor. The dry-stone technique doesn’t yield a lot of clues. Weathering erosion isn’t very helpful. So they looked at how the walls are related to one another, the ground plan and exposed cross sections in some areas of the walls.
That’s given them three major phases, the first was in the late Bronze Age, perhaps between 1100 and 500 BC. Around 800 BC Dún Aengus was thought to be a cultural center for several related groups. In the Iron Age, between 500 BC and 500 AD, there was a decline of activity at the site and little evidence of what may have been taking place there. There were some defensive additions made which suggests the site’s importance had diminished. People may have just moved on, for a variety of reasons. It was a busy 1,000 years in Ireland, after all.
In the early medieval period, between 500 and 1100 AD there is evidence of the final major remodeling of the fort. Quarry work made a vertical plateau. The walls were thickened. Terraces were added inside. Evidence suggests that people were living at Dún Aengus once again.
Also, you’re more than 300 feet above the water here:
I didn’t want to say anything at the time to worry The Yankee, but the thought occurred to me, at the moment I took this picture, that people could have very unfortunate “accidents” here. When I told her later in the evening she said “I had the same thought.”
We both made it back without pushing one another. So did these two ladies:
Even the lichen growing on the rocks is beautiful:
Here’s the view from Dún Aengus.
And here’s a bit of video, just to give some ambiance:
About the name of the fort. In Irish mythology, Aengus — Óengus (Old Irish) or Áengus (Middle Irish) — is a member of the Tuatha Dé Danann and probably a god of love, youth and poetic inspiration. The Tuatha Dé Danann a race of people in the invasions tradition of Irish mythology the fifth group to settle Ireland, conquering the island from the Fir Bolg, whom we also learned about at the Cliffs of Moher. It is all starting to come together now, right?
And then more riding. The rain stopped when we weren’t on the bikes and continued again for awhile when we got back in the saddle, almost like magic. So I chased her around the island some more:
We saw other tourists and locals alike. The next few shots are just of people pedaling:
At the far other end of the island we found a field of rabbits. I took several pictures in this sequence and tried to put them together. It isn’t quite right, but it is interesting:
More to the middle of the island again we passed the Lucky Star Bar, which looked like it hadn’t been lucky in some time:
The most prominent cemetery we found on Inishmore:
More of those beautiful rock walls that dot the landscape:
And this path isn’t on the map, nor is the ridiculous ridge we rode across trying to get over to the other side to see the ocean:
But here is the route we took, minus some scary and fun off road portions:
By comparative standards, a contemporaneous church:
Sadly turned our rental bikes back in. I grew to enjoy this thing pretty quickly. It was heavy, but great on hills. You could really sling it around well, and the shocks were a big novel fun:
After we vainly tried to dry off we walked back passed the closed Lucky Star Bar and found there were new tenants:
And we headed to Joe Watty’s pub, one of the view options on an island of 870 people. (There was also an “American restaurant” in a hotel that apparently came off like the 1980s place in Back to the Future III, just a hodge-podge, and full of locals.) This place was packed too. Our host told us that there was a big local sports and youth festival this weekend and tonight they were crowning the island’s pageant queen. It was all going down in Joe Watty’s, which became shoulder-to-shoulder and chest-to-back packed.
The food was delicious though. We realized we’ve eaten incredibly well in Ireland, despite a few too many desserts. The food has been good and not processed and hearty and I want it every meal.
Tomorrow morning we’ll have breakfast with our B&B hosts and then catch a ferry back to the mainland. We’ll drive back to Powerscort in Enniskerry for one more night before this incredible vacation has to, inevitably, come to an end. We’re having a blast. And going to start looking for jobs here.
They tried to warn those good people. Sadly, those good people would not listen. Two of them never returned.
Kidding. They are fine. Except one of them would later become terribly sea sick.
We boarded a ferry called the Happy Hooker — and, yes, everyone gets the joke — and headed over to Inisheer, the smallest of the three Aran Islands in Galway Bay.
We were ready for more adventures, and enjoyed some smooth sailing:
Not everyone was pleased. There was some sea sickness. Fortunately our group held it together.
We had tea in a pub right off the pier, if for no other reason than to warm up. And then we went out walking. It is only two miles long and a mile-and-change wide. You can walk everywhere. And you’ll see this:
Lots of this. I only wish there were someone around to tell me how much time it took to build a rock wall like this. And where they brought the rocks from. Probably the answer to that one is “Right about where you’re standing.”
Some of the enclosed spaces are holding animals, mostly cattle:
This one mooed …
And that is the first time in her life she’s been next to a cow mooing, so she’s happy.
It is also only the second time she’s heard it. (The first being the other day in Cashel.) No matter where I’ve taken her, no matter the time of day, the cattle we’ve seen have always been full, bored or scared. Her first moo in her entire life.
Historically, this place goes way back. The first settlers of these three islands, according to legend, were the Firbolg, who landed here to escape invaders. There is a burial mound dating back to around 2000 BC and archeological evidence that they perhaps came from, or visited, Scotland. The Firbolg were the people that predated the Gaelic gods, so your mileage may vary.
This is an 11th century church, home to the congregation of the most narrow shouldered people in the world. At one time the islands here were a destination among religious pilgrimages, so this tiny little stone building probably saw a lot of visitors. You can’t go in without turning sideways.
This is Dún Formna, one of seven stone forts on the Aran Islands and the only one on Inisheer. The name means “the fort on top of the hill” and so it is. The person who rain the island sometime after 400 BC is thought to have lived there.
Things have changed, but not everything. Less than 300 people live on the island. Agriculture and tourism are the big economic drivers. This is famed as one of the places where Gaelic is still spoken as a living language. The Irish send their kids over during the summer to learn.
After lunch in the same tavern — if you have the opportunity to order Irish stew, order Irish stew — we got on a different vessel and headed for the Cliffs of Moher.
Some people didn’t care for the waves:
Others didn’t have a problem:
Here’s that rock that juts out into the Atlantic all defiant, and filled with thousands of birds:
The Cliffs … of Insanity!
I got photo-bombed. Good to know that has spread to everywhere:
And on the little spit of land just off of Doolin, as we returned, you see this. It is one of the frustrating things about the trip. There is so much history — and so much of the truly ancient stuff the experts are understandably just guessing at — that things like this can be overlooked. This was a fireplace. Someone tried to keep warm by that during howling winter nights. And then, one day for some reason they stopped. The roof fell or someone died or they got sick of it or there was a job or a woman or … you’ll never know. This sort of thing is quietly sitting everywhere in rural Ireland, overwhelmed thousands of years of history.
I made a little video. It is from our ominous and spooky ride on the ferry up to the cliffs. We wished it had been clear, but the fog gives it a great deal of character, too.
Tonight we are in Galway, a city of about 75,000 people with a bustling tourist and entertainment district downtown, where we walked and ate tonight. It is the third largest city in the country and the first city we’ve seen in a week.
We’d rather be back out in the middle of nowhere.
Tomorrow we’ll catch another ferry and head over to another of the Aran Islands. Should be great fun!
The most appropriate sign for the day, and it was a subdued one. All of this that you are about to see is stunningly gorgeous. And we’d ruin it with fences in the United States.
The Cliffs of Moher are on the edge of the Burren (meaning “Great Rock”) region in County Clare.
They top out at 702 feet above the Atlantic here at O’Brien’s Tower and receive almost one million visitors a year.
The cliffs take their name from an old fort called Moher that once stood on Hag’s Head, to the south. It was demolished in 1808 and the present tower near that site was a lookout tower during the Napoleonic wars. O’Brien’s Tower? It was built in 1835 to impress girls. Some things never change. Also, how hard to impress were 19th century women? Look at the view!
Thousands and thousands of birds live in the cliffs — that rock is a popular spot — and they are said to come from more than 20 species, like Atlantic Puffins, hawks, ravens and more.
This is the most popular tourist site in Ireland. Again, not hard to see why.
They were featured in the Potter films …
… and most importantly in The Princess Bride. The Cliffs of Insanity!
What happens when one person makes a nice face and one person makes the Facebook duck face:
Can anyone say Christmas card?
The sun was just about to set on us and The Yankee said the Cliffs were the place to be. She is so often right.
The Burren is a whole lot of limestone. They can just pull up slabs of it and stack it into a vertical fence. O’Brien had these particular ones built in the 19th century and they’ve been reinstalled today. They are holding out the growth for the pedestrian path. You look over those rocks and there are a few feet of wildflowers — more on those in a moment — and then it all just falls into the ocean.
They’ve traveled over most of the southern half of Ireland now and they still like each other. I think they might make it.
Because it is limestone, and because of the water, there are a lot of caves in the local cliffs. Perhaps that is one down there. This is a big area for cavers and climbers, though we didn’t see any today.
You don’t see them all here, but I did learn today that the Burren region — which ranges for about 250 kilometers — is exotically varied in its flora. You can see arctic, Mediterranean and alpine plants all close by one another here. They all have to meet up somewhere, one supposes.
I bet she got a good picture. If she didn’t, I did.
That’s the path on the top of the cliff, by the way. There’s nothing preventing you from falling to the ocean below. They say that a strong gust of wind can do the job if you are standing too close to the edge. I am only a tiny bit skeptical of that.
If you can stop looking at the rock and the birds below you can see the Aran islands off in the distance …
If you continued looking south you might notice an area of disturbed water. Legend has it that this is the location of Kilstiffen. The ancient city sank when its chieftain, in battle, lost a golden key that opened the castle. The story goes that the city will not be restored until the key is recovered from its unknown location. Local storytellers will say the city’s golden-roofed palaces and churches can sometimes be seen shining below the surface. Once in every seven years it rises above the waves. Those who catch a glimpse of this city will die before it appears again. Spooooky.
There’s a reef nearby that features submerged forests and bogs. There was an earthquake and tsunami at the turn of the 9th century, and that might help play into that legend.
Enjoying watching the sun fall into the ocean.
Just two weeks ago local officials opened their new 12-kilometer Cliffs of Moher Coastal Walk, which boasts some incredible scenery. It takes walkers from Hags Head outside Liscannor Village, over these beautiful cliffs and down into the village of Doolin, where we are staying tonight.
You read the signs telling you about the trail — “changes suddenly to a remote, challenging and demanding trail, with no barriers, handrails or seward fencing. Trail features include an exposed cliff-top path, steep ascents and descents, and narrow/steep flagstone steps. The trail may be rough and uneven in places with loose gravel and stone.” — and you realize the difference in American lawyers and Irish lawyers.
The little segment of it that we walked, here at the high point, featured this fun little staircase:
We had such a great time here. There are so many pictures, the ones above, more in the video below, and just a perfect evening with glorious weather.
I sent this little video home from the cliffs. You may enjoy it as well.
More playing around with video at the cliffs:
This one has many more pictures than you just scrolled through, stuff I shot between Dingle and Doolin on the day’s ride. The music is more of the local sound we heard in Dingle town.
Tomorrow we’re going to take a ferry to one of the Aran Islands, and then we’re going to see these same cliffs from sea level. Can’t wait.
