Day 13

Wow, the wind outside is amazing! I am at Malin Head. God knows how many miles of uninterrupted Atlantic Gulf Stream is pounding the northwest coast of Ireland.

I got up at 9 ish and went over to the main house to have breakfast; the unease was still there. I should clarify that: it wasn’t as if there was a bad feeling in the air, it’s just that I was always struggling to find something to talk about, and silence was an uncomfortable option. Every one else I have met in Ireland has been interested in what I am doing and why. They have all had something to say back and most of the time, the whole thing has caused a few laughs. People like to hear about the crazy Australian - who claims he will be the Prime Minister one day - cycling around their country at the worst time of year. The McKeages - as nice as they are - are simply not interested in me or what I am doing. And they don’t like talking about themselves either. When I ask them about the dairy industry in Ireland in general and also about their farm in particular, the answers are always one or two sentences and don’t invite a reply.

The whole time I was trying to find an opportunity to offer £5, saying it was all I could afford to offer them. After breakfast, I went back to the other house, took a photo of the view from the front door and packed the bag. By 11:30 I was off, not having paid or even offered the £5. I was warned by all of them that the wind today would be terrible, but I have to say I prayed and trusted in God and thought I would be all right. No worries.

I rode to Malin, which is west and a little north of Culdaff. I thought that this would be the worse part of today’s ride, as it would be against the wind all the time - but there was no wind at all until well after I had left Malin.

At Malin, I stopped at the same shop I did over a week ago and bought the standard bananas and fruit loaf (£2.80). The ladies behind the counter recognised me and asked how I had been, and did I find any work or accommodation since I had last seen them. I filled them in on the last week - they were more than happy to sit back and listen. When I said that I had knocked on the ladies door they had told me to, they said that they had seen me do it. The lady in question hadn’t been home at the time, but she was a little upset as she had had a fair bit of house work that I could have done to make my stay a lot cheaper. Never mind.

Any time a customer came into the shop, the ladies would tell them that I was 'ridin' 'round the North, here'. They would turn to me and ask me if it was true and I would churn out the usual line. 'Aye, that's right. I’m just riding around up here, looking for a couple of nights work or whatever’. The comments about the time of year would follow - to which the ladies of the shop would say that they have already said that. I put the food in the bag and continued on the Malin Head Rd. It was a beautiful day; freezing but no rain. The wind only came in patches. I even saw my own shadow - briefly - so the sun must have been out for at least five minutes!

I hope that no one gets the wrong impression. Malin might be listed as a town - and even as the Northern-most town in Ireland, but don’t let that fool you. It is composed of three streets, which form a triangle, the middle of which is a stretch of grass - which is where I had my breakfast of bananas and bread a week ago. One of the sides of this triangle is almost completely taken up with the Malin Hotel (apparently famous Ireland wide, but I think I should take that bit of information with a grain of salt). I guess the town is simply a regional centre for the local farming community. A shop, pub and church, much like the ‘towns’ on the Stuart Highway consist of a pub and a service station.

What I am trying to get across, is that it didn’t take long for me to leave Malin once I left the shop. The road went southwest until the shore of Trawbreaga Bay. This bay is really just an inlet, a flooded plain, if you like, that quite a few fresh water streams flow into, including the stream that went past the house that I have been staying at for the past week. It looks very shallow. Reeds are visible breaking the surface until almost half way out. A bit of clear water follows, then more reeds as the bay gets shallower towards the other side. I followed the shore of the bay for five kilometres or so, which is where the road turned north, and then northeast. This occurred opposite the Isle of Doagh (pronounced like the English ‘dough’).

The Isle of Doagh is not really an island. Instead it is a piece of land jutting out from the mainland, and forms the other side of the narrow neck that feeds the Trawbreaga Bay. According to the map, there are lots and lots of standing stones, Megalithic tombs, cross-inscribed stones, and also rock art. I would really like to see this area, but I don’t think that I will have the chance, as I think I am planning to go straight down from Malin Head when I leave here.

As the road turned north, and then northeast, it was rounding a hill - Cranny Hill, according to the map - that rises about 140 metres in the space of half a kilometre. The cliff, which was right next to the road was really pretty, and had some nice rock formations. And it was steep. This hill is the start of a mini range that cuts across the Malin Peninsular. These hills are the reason that the road went to the coast and followed it for so long.

It was when the road went back inland that the wind started. The road followed a valley that effectively channelled the wind. Since I was going northeast, the wind was behind me - and it was really strong. Impressively strong. The road might have been following a valley, but that didn’t make it flat. I hit a hill and it was steep. However, the wind was actually helping me up the hill - it was that strong. When I finally reached the top of the hill (in my lowest gear) I needed a rest. It was really difficult getting off the bike because of the wind. When I dumped the backpack, I found I could lean into the wind and not fall over. I couldn’t do this with the backpack on, as the cover would always catch the wind and knock me over backwards, no matter how far forward I tried to lean. I ate a banana while taking in the scenery. I took a photo of the Isle of Doagh from here - quite an impressive shot.

Toward the Isle of Doagh

After another kilometre or so, the road turned northwest again, and basically continued in that direction for the rest of today’s ride. However, I was only a hundred metres along the northwest road when the wind died down completely. From here on the road was mostly down hill, with only a few little hills to climb, which were always followed with a rewarding downward slope.

A farmer on a tractor passed me while I was going up one of these hills. Obviously he had been passed by lots of cars, as he was driving along at a snails pace; I could see the look of satisfaction on his face when he passed me. After about five minutes, I reached the top of that hill and had about two kilometres of a downhill road. I shot passed him, and made sure he saw my silly grin as I did it.

Basically, whenever I have been riding against the wind today (north or west) it has been very still. And whenever I have been riding with the wind, it has been very, very strong. I have made good time.

At 12:30 I passed the Malin Head Hostel and decided to turn in to ask the price. Valerie, last night, told me that the hostels were a lot cheaper than the B+B, and were all under £10.

The price was £7. I was umming and aahing out loud, and thought that since it was only 12:30, I still had a lot of daylight in which to ride. The woman (Maire) said I could leave the backpack here as I continued (The road around Malin Head is a ring road and would take a couple of hours to cycle around). I asked if the price could go down a bit if I did some work about the place. Initially she said no but a after a seconds thought, she realised she had a bit of digging to do and so she changed her mind.

I changed into my boots (to think that I was going to throw them away!) and turned over her vegetable patch. It was very easy, as the ground was soft and moist, without a rock in sight. The soil is a wonderful black colour. I made good time and I could see that she was impressed.

The wind never stopped while we were working - on the contrary - it grew stronger. The rain stayed away but the wind was amazingly strong. I had to face away from it the whole time or my eyes would start to hurt. There is a great view from her vegetable patch. It looks out onto the Atlantic Ocean, though in a southerly direction. I could see the mouth of the Lough Swilly, and the land beyond that, outside Inishowen.

From the vegie patch. These two shots are one panoramic view

I think we worked for about 45 minutes before a coffee break, which lasted a good half-hour, or maybe an hour. Her husband? partner? is German, and at first I had trouble understanding him, but I got used to his accent.

Maire is the person who I said I hadn’t met yet. No, she’s not the Raven Haired Celtic Beauty that I’m still waiting for, but I feel I could sit down and talk with her for an entire evening; the reason the coffee break went for so long was because we were talking all the time.

A funny thing. She put a plate of biscuits and the like on the table, which we had while sipping on a cappuccino (yes! they have an espresso machine!). One of the things on offer were small Kit Kats, the ones with only two fingers. They are obviously very popular here in Ireland! The Doherty’s had them in their fridge, and Iris put one in all the packed lunches she gave me. The McKeages also had them, though they didn’t offer me any. (The reason I know they eat them is because there was one sitting on the mantle piece of the fireplace in the house that I stayed at. They have put the stove in the sitting room in place of a fire. I ate the Kit Kat that I found there.) I didn’t imagine that so many people would fancy these small Kit Kats.

Maire is quite Republican and has an interest in both the history of Ireland as a whole and Inishowen in particular. She knows quite a bit. I found out a couple of things from her. First, the place that the French ship (that came here during Wolfe Tone’s United Irishmen rebellion), landed in the Swilly. Also, Wolfe Tone was arrested in Buncrana.

She talked also of famine things and landlords, peat bogs and potatoes. One of the most interesting pieces of information she gave me, was that during the famine, the farmers - once kicked out of their farms by the greedy landlords - had to try and start new potato patches up in the hills - areas that are not usually farmed. I haven’t seen a farm at the top of the hill in all my riding and I can see why - the wind would simply rip through a mud hut and thatched roof. As a result of this, she said, it is now possible to see famine era potato patches on the side of some of the hills around Inishowen. They appear as slightly darker patches, with a bumpy look to them. I will look out for these when continue my riding.

She suggested going for a ride tomorrow (in her car) to Carn. First to look at a bog that she inherited with this house, and second to pick up a cassette tape that a man who knows a lot about the history of this area made for her school kids (she teaches at the Carndonagh School). Cool.

The beauty of the land up here is just amazing. I don’t think that photo I took of the entrance to Trawbreaga Bay will do it justice - I wish I could describe the hills dotted with sheep, the road cutting through them, the streams, cliffs, water, old stone houses gripping the sides of hills. Wow.

During the 20 km I rode today, I passed the 200 km mark. Yippee!

The Walkman has been a success and I am glad that I brought it with me. After a bit of trial and error, I have found a way to carry it around without it getting wet. Since the Kathmandu is reversible, there are pockets on both the inside and outside. One of these pockets (on the side with the black nylon material) is sealed with a zip. The walkman goes in there, with the wire coming out, going up the inside of my raincoat. I put on the headphones and then the beanie over the top. It is a bit awkward to put on and take off, but once I am riding it works well.

Before I came here, I had decided to make up a tape of songs from different artists, with the idea that they would mostly be fast and energise me. Songs like Where The Streets Have No Name and Sunday Bloody Sunday have done just that. But I have noticed something else, so many of the songs have references to weather and the wet. All of this I have never noticed before, as it was never so important to me (just like the weather in Trinity). Songs like the extra song on The Cranberries’ No Need To Argue, which has the line:

‘Does it have to be so cold in Ireland?’

Which is sung out with such passion that it shakes the singer’s voice. I adjusted the words to Chisel’s Bow River a little and laughed myself silly as I sung to my new words along with Jimmy, Ian and the boys as I was making my way to Malin Head the other day.

Listen out to the wind, yeah
An’ listen out to the rain
I can feel that rain, lashing at my cheeks again

and later ...

... first thing you know, I’ll be back in Malin Head again.

Alright, it sounds a bit dumb, but while slogging it out in the wind, I thought it was fairly good.

I have just finished looking at the money situation; it’s not good. I have £140 left. Even though I am thinking of riding south to Dublin, I am going to put aside £30 for the train fare from Derry. The bus is cheaper and the further south I go, the cheaper it will be (in theory) so £30 is safe. The bike will cost £15 to take to England. That means I have only £95 to last me 17 days. Which is roughly five and a half pounds per day. So if I make my budget £4 per day I will safely stay inside the £95. However, this does not leave any room for any unforeseen expenses.

‘Ireland On £4 a Day’. I must be crazy. On the note of money, it was never discussed how much of a discount I got from my efforts today. Maire has invited me to stay longer, as there is a lot of work to be done. Tomorrow I will offer to work for £2 an hour. Maire didn’t mention that figure, I just thought of it now. I guess it is a fair amount. So, in four hours I will have earned a free nights rest and a couple of coffees (they have great coffee here).

There are no other guests in the hostel. It is a bit weird being completely alone in a hostel, with a big sitting room, a huge kitchen and an open fire, just for me!

In the evening I went to the shops and spent £2.50 buying sausages and honey. I have already blown today’s budget.