I've now uploaded a selection of photos from the tour onto Flickr.
To view them, page down to the bottom of the main blog page and click on the picture of the four of us. Once in Flickr, click slide show.
Enjoy.
Woody
Thursday, 9 August 2012
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Thanks
The Reservoir Hogs tour is over and so now is this blog. All that remains for me to say is, thank you for following this adventure and taking the trouble to comment, those that did. Apologies you had to 'catch up' and not read it real time but that's technology for ya.
And lastly, a huge, huge thank you, to my three travelling companions, without whom the tour wouldn't have happened or been such a blast! Europe next Hogs?
And lastly, a huge, huge thank you, to my three travelling companions, without whom the tour wouldn't have happened or been such a blast! Europe next Hogs?
That's all folks!
Thanks Again.
Neill (a.k.a. Woody)
P.S. Watch out for the slideshow on Flickr, coming soon.
No lies, just statistics
For those that like facts and figures, here's a few for you.
Rider
Weight prior to tour: 12st 13lbs (82.1 kgs)
Weight after tour: 13st 4lbs (84.4 kgs)
Cooked breakfasts: 10
Light breakfasts: 2
Cooked Lunches: 11
Sandwich Lunch: 1
Cooked Dinners: 12
Cups of coffee: 33 approx.
Pints of beer: 28 approx.
And one wee dram!
The Bandit
Tour mileage: 2258.4 miles
Litres of fuel used: 183 approx.
Cost: £230 give or take a few pence
The bike performed superbly, never missing a beat. The new Michelin Pilot Road 3 tyres were every bit as good as the reviews said they were. In dry or wet, through the bends or under braking, I had total confidence in them. I would definitely recommend them to anyone.
As the bike had had a service before the off, the chain had been adjusted and lubed. This was the only thing to suffer. 2200 miles without any adjustment or lube, meant by the end of the tour it sounded like a bag of old spanners when pulling away from stationary. Not really practical to take tools for chain adjustment but in hindsight, maybe I should have taken some lube or even scrounged some off of Biggsey.
Tomtom did a great job, only getting lost a couple of times. Other wrong turns were more down to me than equipment.
Water Stats
We passed by on this tour, approximately 42 reservoirs, lakes, lochs and loughs, stopping to take photos at about 12 of them, though much to Grizzly's chagrin, not Lake Windermere!! Not to mention the many rivers we crossed over or ran alongside.
I think then, without fear of contradiction, we can indeeed call ourselves, The Reservoir Hogs!
Rider
Weight prior to tour: 12st 13lbs (82.1 kgs)
Weight after tour: 13st 4lbs (84.4 kgs)
Cooked breakfasts: 10
Light breakfasts: 2
Cooked Lunches: 11
Sandwich Lunch: 1
Cooked Dinners: 12
Cups of coffee: 33 approx.
Pints of beer: 28 approx.
And one wee dram!
The Bandit
Tour mileage: 2258.4 miles
Litres of fuel used: 183 approx.
Cost: £230 give or take a few pence
The bike performed superbly, never missing a beat. The new Michelin Pilot Road 3 tyres were every bit as good as the reviews said they were. In dry or wet, through the bends or under braking, I had total confidence in them. I would definitely recommend them to anyone.
As the bike had had a service before the off, the chain had been adjusted and lubed. This was the only thing to suffer. 2200 miles without any adjustment or lube, meant by the end of the tour it sounded like a bag of old spanners when pulling away from stationary. Not really practical to take tools for chain adjustment but in hindsight, maybe I should have taken some lube or even scrounged some off of Biggsey.
Tomtom did a great job, only getting lost a couple of times. Other wrong turns were more down to me than equipment.
Water Stats
We passed by on this tour, approximately 42 reservoirs, lakes, lochs and loughs, stopping to take photos at about 12 of them, though much to Grizzly's chagrin, not Lake Windermere!! Not to mention the many rivers we crossed over or ran alongside.
I think then, without fear of contradiction, we can indeeed call ourselves, The Reservoir Hogs!
It's not over till the fat lady waves goodbye!
A bit harsh on Jennifer but she had put weight on since I last saw her, earlier in the year. I had to ask if she had a surprise for me but thankfully, just pies and takeaway in the oven this time!
Unpacking my stuff for the last time away from home, I had a shower and then we went out for something to eat. Would you believe it, I even had a pint of Guiness! I also 'treated' them (Jen and boyfriend Chris) to a tour pics film show, the first of many probably.
I slept soundly enough and was up just after 9:00. I planned to leave about 10:30, for the 3 hour trip home. Jen made me toast for breakfast, my lightest since Inveraray and then I got my stuff together. More hugs and kisses this time and I was on my way home. First stop was for fuel at Asda, just before joining the M4 at Junction 32. Without the coffee monsters, I was riding on through, so my next stop was my second fuel stop, just outside Bracknell. I arrived at Morrisons in Walderslade, my final fuel stop and the official tour mileage end, at about 13:45. It's just a mile from home, so I was in and unloaded soon after 14:00.
As I closed the front door, I sighed. That was it, the tour was well and truly over. I'd been away 13 days, ridden through 5 countries, covered over 2,200 miles and I was bloody tired. I just sat down to watch some TV.......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
Unpacking my stuff for the last time away from home, I had a shower and then we went out for something to eat. Would you believe it, I even had a pint of Guiness! I also 'treated' them (Jen and boyfriend Chris) to a tour pics film show, the first of many probably.
I slept soundly enough and was up just after 9:00. I planned to leave about 10:30, for the 3 hour trip home. Jen made me toast for breakfast, my lightest since Inveraray and then I got my stuff together. More hugs and kisses this time and I was on my way home. First stop was for fuel at Asda, just before joining the M4 at Junction 32. Without the coffee monsters, I was riding on through, so my next stop was my second fuel stop, just outside Bracknell. I arrived at Morrisons in Walderslade, my final fuel stop and the official tour mileage end, at about 13:45. It's just a mile from home, so I was in and unloaded soon after 14:00.
As I closed the front door, I sighed. That was it, the tour was well and truly over. I'd been away 13 days, ridden through 5 countries, covered over 2,200 miles and I was bloody tired. I just sat down to watch some TV.......zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
Tuesday, 7 August 2012
Strong hand shakes and big man hugs!
Day 11 dawned. The Faythe proprietor had told us he would do our breakfast early, as we were catching the ferry, so we were at the table by 7:15. He had also made some muffins, whilst baking the bread and gave us four for the journey. The bikes were pretty much loaded and ready to go before we sat down to eat, so all that was left was to have a group photo and say goodbye to Grizzly. The proprietor obliged with the photo. There was some vigorous hand shaking going on, followed by some big man hugs and back slapping, as we bade farewell to Grizzly, then we were ready to roll. Grizzly had about a 2 hour ride back to his home in Portlaoise (pronounced Portleash), whilst the rest of us had about 30 minutes to the ferry port at Rosslare.
We fired up and hit the road, as a four at first, before Grizzly peeled off to the right. Traffic was light, it was Sunday morning after all, so we made it to the port at the expected time. On the way, we passed the hotel that I had originally booked us in. It was surrounded by security fencing and that reminded me again how lucky it was that I had been on the website before the tour, else we would have turned up to find that sight and nowhere to stay!
At Rosslare, we checked in at the booths and boarded straight away. There were quite a number of other bikes already loaded. As the crew strapped the bikes down, we made our way up the the lounge area and parked ourselves on the bench seats, with a couple of tables. Within minutes we were leaving, a four hour journey ahead of us. Dudley, was straight into sleep mode, whilst Biggsey and I chatted and visited the shop. I then had a little nap myself, waking as we were making our final approach to Pembroke.
Back in dear old blighty (well Wales!), our first stop was in Carmarthen for fuel. I had originally planned that the 3 of us would skirt the Brecons, until I split from the group, to head South to Pontypridd. Dudley, however, was planning to visit his daughter in Reading, so wanted to get some quick miles under his belt, which meant taking the M4. Biggsey didn't want to be doing the last leg on his own and the M4 suited me as well, so it was agreed we'd take the M4. We (me that is) had already had an issue at another roundabout (can't blame Tomtom) forcing us to u-turn but not long out of Carmarthen my attention wandered and blow me if I hadn't gone wrong again. Dudley was fairly close behind, so followed. Biggsey, a little way back, read the signs and took the correct exit! DOH!
Now Biggsey claims he saw us go wrong but I guess he figured we'd soon catch up again without him having to slow too much. What none of us had bargained for though, was the traffic lights on the roundabout holding Dudley and I up. Now, I'm sure you all remember the mathematics puzzles they set at school, so here's one for you.
If a Triumph motorcycle travelling at 65mph, sets off on a road 2 minutes before the other two, what speed does the dipstick with the Tomtom have to go to catch and overtake the Triumph before it takes the M4?
To help, the distance involved, was 14.9 miles and said dipstick completed the task of overhauling the Triumph with about 60 yards to spare. There's no prize, it's just for fun kids!
As I overtook Biggsey, I pointed to him to head round the roundabout to the services. He peeled off and I carried on around again, pulling over to watch for Dudley approaching. Surprisingly, he wasn't that far behind, the old blighter must've given the Harley some welly once I'd left him behind. As he pulled onto the roundabout, I took the lead again and led him to the services. Phew!
This was our lunch stop and also the parting of the ways. I was only about an hour away from my daughter Jennifer's place in Pontypridd and didn't see much point in hanging around with the other two, especially as it seemed we all planned to travel at different speeds. Me warp, Dudley legal and Biggsey with a man walking in front ;-) Dudley needed to cover the ground fairly quickly, having still about four hours journey to go and Biggsey had said he wasn't going to be hammering it, so it made sense to say farewell at this point.
More vigorous handshaking, hugging and back slapping ensued, then we hit the road, The Reservoir Hogs Tour officially over.
Dudley was first on the motorway but I soon overtook him and in just over an hour I was parking up on my daughter's driveway.
We fired up and hit the road, as a four at first, before Grizzly peeled off to the right. Traffic was light, it was Sunday morning after all, so we made it to the port at the expected time. On the way, we passed the hotel that I had originally booked us in. It was surrounded by security fencing and that reminded me again how lucky it was that I had been on the website before the tour, else we would have turned up to find that sight and nowhere to stay!
At Rosslare, we checked in at the booths and boarded straight away. There were quite a number of other bikes already loaded. As the crew strapped the bikes down, we made our way up the the lounge area and parked ourselves on the bench seats, with a couple of tables. Within minutes we were leaving, a four hour journey ahead of us. Dudley, was straight into sleep mode, whilst Biggsey and I chatted and visited the shop. I then had a little nap myself, waking as we were making our final approach to Pembroke.
Back in dear old blighty (well Wales!), our first stop was in Carmarthen for fuel. I had originally planned that the 3 of us would skirt the Brecons, until I split from the group, to head South to Pontypridd. Dudley, however, was planning to visit his daughter in Reading, so wanted to get some quick miles under his belt, which meant taking the M4. Biggsey didn't want to be doing the last leg on his own and the M4 suited me as well, so it was agreed we'd take the M4. We (me that is) had already had an issue at another roundabout (can't blame Tomtom) forcing us to u-turn but not long out of Carmarthen my attention wandered and blow me if I hadn't gone wrong again. Dudley was fairly close behind, so followed. Biggsey, a little way back, read the signs and took the correct exit! DOH!
Now Biggsey claims he saw us go wrong but I guess he figured we'd soon catch up again without him having to slow too much. What none of us had bargained for though, was the traffic lights on the roundabout holding Dudley and I up. Now, I'm sure you all remember the mathematics puzzles they set at school, so here's one for you.
If a Triumph motorcycle travelling at 65mph, sets off on a road 2 minutes before the other two, what speed does the dipstick with the Tomtom have to go to catch and overtake the Triumph before it takes the M4?
To help, the distance involved, was 14.9 miles and said dipstick completed the task of overhauling the Triumph with about 60 yards to spare. There's no prize, it's just for fun kids!
As I overtook Biggsey, I pointed to him to head round the roundabout to the services. He peeled off and I carried on around again, pulling over to watch for Dudley approaching. Surprisingly, he wasn't that far behind, the old blighter must've given the Harley some welly once I'd left him behind. As he pulled onto the roundabout, I took the lead again and led him to the services. Phew!
This was our lunch stop and also the parting of the ways. I was only about an hour away from my daughter Jennifer's place in Pontypridd and didn't see much point in hanging around with the other two, especially as it seemed we all planned to travel at different speeds. Me warp, Dudley legal and Biggsey with a man walking in front ;-) Dudley needed to cover the ground fairly quickly, having still about four hours journey to go and Biggsey had said he wasn't going to be hammering it, so it made sense to say farewell at this point.
More vigorous handshaking, hugging and back slapping ensued, then we hit the road, The Reservoir Hogs Tour officially over.
Dudley was first on the motorway but I soon overtook him and in just over an hour I was parking up on my daughter's driveway.
Monday, 6 August 2012
Thanks Woody
The Faythe proprietor had given us a town map, with some places to eat/drink marked on it. In addition Grizzly had phoned his niece, to suss out where she recommended. We didn't want to be walking miles, so we decided on the nearest of those on that map, that she thought would be OK.
Just as we were about to leave, the heavens opened for the third time that day. The last supper was put on hold, whilst we waited for it to stop raining. We soon made our way to the 'recommended' hostelry, I forget the name now and found ourselves a table. This was a big place, not very inspiring it has to be said and with only two other people inside. Maybe we were a bit early for a Saturday night. We had a pint (mine may have been Guiness again) and looked at the menu. Very disappointing, we decided to try and locate the Indian restaurant on the map. Grizzly had never had an Indian curry before.
I managed to get us lost...ish, again (no help from Tomtom this time) as the Indian was down a side street and we hadn't seen the sign for it. That was possibly because we were distracted by women again, another group of hens all clamouring to have their photo taken with The Author! I think there were a few more of Biggsey's cards flying about, as brothers or uncles rode motorbikes.
Having tracked down the Indian, we were told that they didn't have a table for four available for at least an hour. Just when we're thinking we will have to go elsewhere, up steps Dudley, with a double dose of the Biggsey charm and before you could say, Chicken Korma, the young lady agreed to push two twos together. Sorted!
As Dudley sat down, I saw him move something off of his seat. I thought it was a napkin or something. Turned out to be a card the Hogs had got me, thanking me for organising the tour and leading them, mostly successfully, to the end. I was touched but even more so, when the Waterford Crystal gift box was thrust in my hand. I was almost speechless, yes almost, I hadn't expected anything. Dudley said, that as I had drunk my first REAL Guinness on the trip, they thought it fitting that they buy me a little glass harp, as a memento. A lovely thought and much appreciated.
The food was superb, though there was quite a wait for it to arrive. We couldn't grumble though, we were lucky to get seated in the first place. Grizzly had had his first Indian curry, though chicken korma and chips, isn't the pairing you'd expect! He enjoyed it though, that was the main thing.
As we made our way back along the high street, Wexford had come alive and all the young people were now on the streets, though not yet in the gutters. Us old timers though, decided to forego another pint and head back to the guest house. Sunday, we would all be going our separate ways.
Just as we were about to leave, the heavens opened for the third time that day. The last supper was put on hold, whilst we waited for it to stop raining. We soon made our way to the 'recommended' hostelry, I forget the name now and found ourselves a table. This was a big place, not very inspiring it has to be said and with only two other people inside. Maybe we were a bit early for a Saturday night. We had a pint (mine may have been Guiness again) and looked at the menu. Very disappointing, we decided to try and locate the Indian restaurant on the map. Grizzly had never had an Indian curry before.
I managed to get us lost...ish, again (no help from Tomtom this time) as the Indian was down a side street and we hadn't seen the sign for it. That was possibly because we were distracted by women again, another group of hens all clamouring to have their photo taken with The Author! I think there were a few more of Biggsey's cards flying about, as brothers or uncles rode motorbikes.
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| We sure know how to pick 'em! |
Having tracked down the Indian, we were told that they didn't have a table for four available for at least an hour. Just when we're thinking we will have to go elsewhere, up steps Dudley, with a double dose of the Biggsey charm and before you could say, Chicken Korma, the young lady agreed to push two twos together. Sorted!
As Dudley sat down, I saw him move something off of his seat. I thought it was a napkin or something. Turned out to be a card the Hogs had got me, thanking me for organising the tour and leading them, mostly successfully, to the end. I was touched but even more so, when the Waterford Crystal gift box was thrust in my hand. I was almost speechless, yes almost, I hadn't expected anything. Dudley said, that as I had drunk my first REAL Guinness on the trip, they thought it fitting that they buy me a little glass harp, as a memento. A lovely thought and much appreciated.
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| Chuffed to bits! |
As we made our way back along the high street, Wexford had come alive and all the young people were now on the streets, though not yet in the gutters. Us old timers though, decided to forego another pint and head back to the guest house. Sunday, we would all be going our separate ways.
Sunday, 5 August 2012
It's not only gold that glitters
We were in Waterford to visit the Waterford Crystal factory.
The crystal glass in this place is stunning. Watching the craftsmen blowing, shaping and cutting is just amazing. It takes 8 years for them to learn the skills properly. Imagine then, having a go yourself. Grizzly had asked one guy how many times me made a booboo and nearly got a thump for his troubles but as we walked on the guy came up to Grizzly and asked if he wanted to try it himself. Quite amazingly the guy let Grizzly use the diamond cutter to cut a pattern into the bottom of a glass tumbler. The concentration on his face was something to behold. When done the guy praised how accurate he had been and sent him on his way with the tumbler as a souvenir. Awesome!
In the shop, Dudley and I made some purchases for our loved ones, a small carved Seahorse in a lovely presentation case. I'd hardly spoken to Cath on this trip, hopefully that would make up for the lack of contact.
We left Waterford on the last leg of the Reservoir Hogs Tour, an hour or so ride into Wexford. The skies looked very threatening and a rainbow in front of us gave me a clue of what lie ahead. I pulled over and both Dudley and I put our waterproofs on again. Sure enough, the heavens opened up once more. Like London buses, nothing for days, then two torrential downpours come at once. On entering Wexford, I had my only moment of the entire tour. Typical, on the last leg! If truth be told it was only a nearly moment but could have been a lot worse. As I was negotiating a roundabout, in the rain, roads soaking wet, I suddenly spot a fat juicy manhole cover, right on the apex!! What the FECK? Now my tyres had been brilliant thus far in all conditions but I wasn't about to test them with this, so I had no option but to stand the bike upright to run across it, sending me heading towards the kerb. With no additional obstacles though, I was able to then lean the bike over to make it round safely. Quickly, I glanced in my mirrors to check Dudley and the others got round safely, which they all did. What an unbelievably stupid place to site a manhole!
A few minutes later we were parking up in the gravel (careful Dudley!) car park of the Faythe Guest House. Unloaded, checked in and showered we prepared to hit the town for our last evening together and our farewell dinner.
The crystal glass in this place is stunning. Watching the craftsmen blowing, shaping and cutting is just amazing. It takes 8 years for them to learn the skills properly. Imagine then, having a go yourself. Grizzly had asked one guy how many times me made a booboo and nearly got a thump for his troubles but as we walked on the guy came up to Grizzly and asked if he wanted to try it himself. Quite amazingly the guy let Grizzly use the diamond cutter to cut a pattern into the bottom of a glass tumbler. The concentration on his face was something to behold. When done the guy praised how accurate he had been and sent him on his way with the tumbler as a souvenir. Awesome!
In the shop, Dudley and I made some purchases for our loved ones, a small carved Seahorse in a lovely presentation case. I'd hardly spoken to Cath on this trip, hopefully that would make up for the lack of contact.
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| Glass Globe, stunning! |
A few minutes later we were parking up in the gravel (careful Dudley!) car park of the Faythe Guest House. Unloaded, checked in and showered we prepared to hit the town for our last evening together and our farewell dinner.
Youghal, pronounced Y'all
Saturday morning dawned. This was to be our last riding day together. Once more the weather was dry and sunny, as we rolled out onto the street. Grizzly was leading once more, this time to Cork Lough, a childhood venue for walks with his aunt. This lough is more like a park lake, than any of the previous loughs we have visited but by necessity it has been hemmed in with concrete. Not very big, Grizzly assures us there was once a thousand swans on the lough. There's not that number now, if anything they are outnumbered by Canada geese. The lough is also home to some damned big carp, that broke the water's surface as we walked round.
Our next stop was only about 30 minutes away, in Cobh (pronounced Cove) formerly known as Queenstown. This place is famous for being the last berthing place of RMS Titanic, before that giant ice cube halted her progress across the Atlantic. We were in Cobh to visit the Titanic Experience. A small exhibition, it is housed in the original ticket office and as you pass through the exhibition, you can view a piece of the original jetty, from which the passengers would have boarded the tender boats to take them out to Titanic in the bay. Your entrance ticket has a passenger name on it and you can check this at the end of the visit to see if you survived the sinking. Only Biggsey survived, so beers on him!
We had ourselves a coffee, then I checked our euro lottery ticket in a newsagents. We won!!, €4. Grizzly persuaded us to cough up some more cash to enter the Irish lottery that evening. If we won, we'd need to rely on him claiming the winnings and not disappearing to Chicago, without telling us!
With another fuel stop under our belts, next stop was Youghal. First though, we stopped to take photos of the last lough on our tour, Lough Aderra. I had got just a bit of stick off of our Irish friend, when I had pronounced Youghal to sound like the dog from the Magic Roundabout. Say what you see! It's actually pronounced Y'all. This was our lunch stop, The Moby Dick, to be exact. The Moby Dick's claim to fame is that the cast of that famous film of 1954 (Gregory Peck, Richard Baseheart, et al) stayed there during filming. There are lots of black and white photos on the walls of the stars and John Houston, the director. All I can say is, I hope they didn't have to wait as long for lunch as we did. From being ahead of time, we lost time waiting for four ham and cheese special toasted sandwiches to arrive, some onion and tomato being the 'special' ingredients!
It started to rain as we were about to leave, so I decided to put on my waterproofs. Immediately I did, the sun came out again. Not far down the road though the heavens opened. The first real rain we had seen since we left Loch Lomond, was pelting down, hammering against my visor and clothing, making visibility quite poor. By the time we reached our next stop at Waterford though, the sun was out again. Biggsey had opted not to bother with waterproofs, so sported a nice line in wet denim!
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| Irish swans. To be sure, to be sure, to be sure! |
Our next stop was only about 30 minutes away, in Cobh (pronounced Cove) formerly known as Queenstown. This place is famous for being the last berthing place of RMS Titanic, before that giant ice cube halted her progress across the Atlantic. We were in Cobh to visit the Titanic Experience. A small exhibition, it is housed in the original ticket office and as you pass through the exhibition, you can view a piece of the original jetty, from which the passengers would have boarded the tender boats to take them out to Titanic in the bay. Your entrance ticket has a passenger name on it and you can check this at the end of the visit to see if you survived the sinking. Only Biggsey survived, so beers on him!
We had ourselves a coffee, then I checked our euro lottery ticket in a newsagents. We won!!, €4. Grizzly persuaded us to cough up some more cash to enter the Irish lottery that evening. If we won, we'd need to rely on him claiming the winnings and not disappearing to Chicago, without telling us!
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| Original White Star Line Ticket Office, Cobh |
It started to rain as we were about to leave, so I decided to put on my waterproofs. Immediately I did, the sun came out again. Not far down the road though the heavens opened. The first real rain we had seen since we left Loch Lomond, was pelting down, hammering against my visor and clothing, making visibility quite poor. By the time we reached our next stop at Waterford though, the sun was out again. Biggsey had opted not to bother with waterproofs, so sported a nice line in wet denim!
Next please. Lie down, grab the handles, lean back. Next please.
The short walk from the hotel saw us inside Blarney Castle grounds and we were soon climbing the narrow spiral staircase to the top of the castle and the famous Blarney stone. There were two guys working the stone. One takes the photo (you can purchase on exit) and gives you a numbered slip, the other, the main man, stops you slipping to your death whilst kissing the stone. "Lie down, grab the handles, lean back. Next please", over and over again. Grizzly went first, so I could get some photos of him, then it was my turn. I did as instructed and all within 30 seconds the deed was done. Next up was Dudley, Grizzly obliging with the photos of both of us. Biggsey was nowhere to be seen. We waited, a good 5 minutes or more but no sign. Perhaps he has bottled it we think. He wouldn't have been the only one. It was surprising how many people wouldn't kiss the stone. My question, why go to Blarney Castle, which is famous for the Blarney Stone and NOT kiss the fecker?
We started our descent, when I met Biggsey on his way up. His story is, that he got chatting to 4 girls from the US. Blimey, you can't let that bloke out of your sight for 5 minutes!! I followed him back to the top and took a couple of snaps on the phone, before we made our way down to meet the others.
The deed done, a pint beckoned. Grizzley was keen that after having tried the Guinness, I now try Murphy's. Before that though we made a quick stop in the souvenir shop at the exit to the castle grounds. Dudley was busy buying stuff for his grandchildren and Grizzly bought another sticker (I think). I was just perusing but became aware that whatever Biggsey had decided to buy, he'd managed to find a very attractive member of staff to serve him. This is one guy with no need to kiss any bleeding stone!! "Hi, my name's Biggsey". As he left the store the young woman and her colleague began talking about him. They even called a male member of staff over to share the story, though I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, I gathered the young woman was quite taken with the encounter.
A freshen up and Dud and I headed for the bar. Biggsey and Grizzly were already there, talking to a couple of women. I'm presented with a pint of Murphy's. To Grizzly's dismay, I didn't really like it. Guinness wins!
The guy at the stone had recommended a place on the square to eat and drink. One look at the menu though, left us uninspired, so we decided to do Chinese instead. It was Friday evening but we managed to get a table no problem. The food was excellent. Grizzley suggested the chow mein dish he had was the best he'd ever tasted, so he'd be making a trip back in the not too distant future.
From the Chinese, we hit the recommended bar. I didn't fancy Murphy's again and was weighing up the options when I noticed they had Blue Moon on draft. Heaven! This is my favourite beer from the Route 66 trip. 2 pints were sunk whilst we sat half chatting and watching the Olympic opening ceremony on the TV. We were all lined up against the bar and unfortunately for Biggsey he ended up on the end with Mr Shouty. Boy this guy was loud, he made Grizzly sound like whispering Ted Lowe!
Back at the Blarney Castle, we had more drink (I had a coke this time) before retiring for the evening. Not though, before I had attracted the attention of the barmaid and her colleague with an impromptu Riverdance. They were keen for me to carry on, more for amusement value than for my technical ability I suspect but........ I normally charge for that! And with that it was off to bed!
We started our descent, when I met Biggsey on his way up. His story is, that he got chatting to 4 girls from the US. Blimey, you can't let that bloke out of your sight for 5 minutes!! I followed him back to the top and took a couple of snaps on the phone, before we made our way down to meet the others.
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| The Blarney Stone |
The deed done, a pint beckoned. Grizzley was keen that after having tried the Guinness, I now try Murphy's. Before that though we made a quick stop in the souvenir shop at the exit to the castle grounds. Dudley was busy buying stuff for his grandchildren and Grizzly bought another sticker (I think). I was just perusing but became aware that whatever Biggsey had decided to buy, he'd managed to find a very attractive member of staff to serve him. This is one guy with no need to kiss any bleeding stone!! "Hi, my name's Biggsey". As he left the store the young woman and her colleague began talking about him. They even called a male member of staff over to share the story, though I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, I gathered the young woman was quite taken with the encounter.
A freshen up and Dud and I headed for the bar. Biggsey and Grizzly were already there, talking to a couple of women. I'm presented with a pint of Murphy's. To Grizzly's dismay, I didn't really like it. Guinness wins!
The guy at the stone had recommended a place on the square to eat and drink. One look at the menu though, left us uninspired, so we decided to do Chinese instead. It was Friday evening but we managed to get a table no problem. The food was excellent. Grizzley suggested the chow mein dish he had was the best he'd ever tasted, so he'd be making a trip back in the not too distant future.
From the Chinese, we hit the recommended bar. I didn't fancy Murphy's again and was weighing up the options when I noticed they had Blue Moon on draft. Heaven! This is my favourite beer from the Route 66 trip. 2 pints were sunk whilst we sat half chatting and watching the Olympic opening ceremony on the TV. We were all lined up against the bar and unfortunately for Biggsey he ended up on the end with Mr Shouty. Boy this guy was loud, he made Grizzly sound like whispering Ted Lowe!
Back at the Blarney Castle, we had more drink (I had a coke this time) before retiring for the evening. Not though, before I had attracted the attention of the barmaid and her colleague with an impromptu Riverdance. They were keen for me to carry on, more for amusement value than for my technical ability I suspect but........ I normally charge for that! And with that it was off to bed!
Friday, 3 August 2012
You give me €4, then I give each of you €1 back to put in the bin!
The church was locked up. Google had indicated that a pyramid shaped tomb was that of the General but we had our doubts. There were no markings on it whatsoever, save for a coat of arms. Biggsey went off in search of a rectory, there was an adjacent house. Shortly, he called us over and a young lad had let him into the church. On the wall were plaques commemorating the old boy but sadly, they indicated this was not his last resting place. That was in a place called Corofin, some 10-15 miles north west and in the opposite direction to that we were headed. That's an excuse for Biggsey to return one day in the future.
We left Ennis and made our way south to Bunratty Castle and Durty Nelly's pub. The former we would photograph from the roadside, the latter would be our lunch stop. Dating from the 17th Century, it was all low beams, uneven floors and crooked walls. We settled on four seafood chowdas, with home made bread. It was deeelish! I just about had room to squeeze it in on top of the brekkie!
The sun was still shining when we left Bunratty. Boy, had we been lucky with the weather, pretty much since leaving Inverness. Next on the agenda, another fuel stop and then the trek down to Blarney, including a trip through the Limerick Tunnel (under the River Shannon).
Well, guess what. Pass stop, move directly to toll, do not collect any fuel! The fuel stop had closed down (it's on street view, honest). Grizzly took the lead. Being a Cork man, he was keen to lead us into his own county, similar to the French letting riders lead into their home towns during the Tour de France. We duly arrive at the tunnel toll booths (can you believe they make bikers pay?). A long discussion ensues, before we each are given a €1 to put into the bin, to raise the barrier, despite Grizzly having just handed the €4 over to the guy in the kiosk. Logic, (in Ireland, feck off!) would say you pay the man for four bikes and he presses the button to raise the barrier four times. Simples! Too simple, it seems for the paddy at the toll. "You have to put de muney in de bin". Sad but no word of a lie.
Through the tunnel, we did eventually make the fuel stop, then it was just a short ride down to the village of Blarney. Our hotel for the night, situated on the village green, was the appropriately named Blarney Castle Hotel. The entrance to the castle grounds is just 2 minutes walk away.
With the bikes securely parked up at the back of the hotel, we freshened up, before heading out to the Castle. I'd come 1500 miles to kiss the Blarney Stone and by gum that's exactly what I intended to do.
We left Ennis and made our way south to Bunratty Castle and Durty Nelly's pub. The former we would photograph from the roadside, the latter would be our lunch stop. Dating from the 17th Century, it was all low beams, uneven floors and crooked walls. We settled on four seafood chowdas, with home made bread. It was deeelish! I just about had room to squeeze it in on top of the brekkie!
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| They do a mean seafood chowda |
The sun was still shining when we left Bunratty. Boy, had we been lucky with the weather, pretty much since leaving Inverness. Next on the agenda, another fuel stop and then the trek down to Blarney, including a trip through the Limerick Tunnel (under the River Shannon).
Well, guess what. Pass stop, move directly to toll, do not collect any fuel! The fuel stop had closed down (it's on street view, honest). Grizzly took the lead. Being a Cork man, he was keen to lead us into his own county, similar to the French letting riders lead into their home towns during the Tour de France. We duly arrive at the tunnel toll booths (can you believe they make bikers pay?). A long discussion ensues, before we each are given a €1 to put into the bin, to raise the barrier, despite Grizzly having just handed the €4 over to the guy in the kiosk. Logic, (in Ireland, feck off!) would say you pay the man for four bikes and he presses the button to raise the barrier four times. Simples! Too simple, it seems for the paddy at the toll. "You have to put de muney in de bin". Sad but no word of a lie.
Through the tunnel, we did eventually make the fuel stop, then it was just a short ride down to the village of Blarney. Our hotel for the night, situated on the village green, was the appropriately named Blarney Castle Hotel. The entrance to the castle grounds is just 2 minutes walk away.
With the bikes securely parked up at the back of the hotel, we freshened up, before heading out to the Castle. I'd come 1500 miles to kiss the Blarney Stone and by gum that's exactly what I intended to do.
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| Blarney Castle Hotel |
Blood relatives
Another bright sunny day greets us in Athlone, along with a sumptuous 4* breakfast buffet. Not wishing to appear greedy, I only have the four rashers of bacon....along with the two sausages, scrambled & fried egg, mushrooms, beans, hash browns, black and white pudding, toast and a couple of tiny danish pastries! Shucks, I forgot the juice and coffee!
Suitably fuelled up our first stop is just round the corner, to fuel up the bikes once again. I had based our fuel stops on Dudley's baby bottle sized tank. He reckoned he could get about 150 miles out of it, so playing safe I built the fuel stops in for around 120. We weren't using fuel at the rate we thought though, so some of these stops were more like a Formula One, splash and dash, that a full fill up.
Second stop, was Lough Rea (pronounced Ray). Another one to add to our list, we stopped to take some photos and have a coffee. Least Biggsey and Dudley had a coffee. With half of the Radisson Blu's breakfast buffet inside me, there wasn't room for anything else, so Grizzly and I took the photos.
Over breakfast we had been discussing Biggsey's ancestry. Apparently, he is related (great, great, grandson or something) to an old war hero, General Sir Bindon Blood and it turned out that he was buried (or so we thought) in a little town called Ennis. Fascinated by this, we decided, in the sake of research, to abandon the planned visit to Galway Bay and instead stop in Ennis to find the good General. We were passing through it anyway. A bit of Googleing and we had his location mapped into Tomtom. So, our stop after Lough Rea, was St Columba's Church, Ennis.
We parked up in Bindon Street, right outside the church and set off in search of the General's last resting place.
Suitably fuelled up our first stop is just round the corner, to fuel up the bikes once again. I had based our fuel stops on Dudley's baby bottle sized tank. He reckoned he could get about 150 miles out of it, so playing safe I built the fuel stops in for around 120. We weren't using fuel at the rate we thought though, so some of these stops were more like a Formula One, splash and dash, that a full fill up.
Second stop, was Lough Rea (pronounced Ray). Another one to add to our list, we stopped to take some photos and have a coffee. Least Biggsey and Dudley had a coffee. With half of the Radisson Blu's breakfast buffet inside me, there wasn't room for anything else, so Grizzly and I took the photos.
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| Lough Rea |
Over breakfast we had been discussing Biggsey's ancestry. Apparently, he is related (great, great, grandson or something) to an old war hero, General Sir Bindon Blood and it turned out that he was buried (or so we thought) in a little town called Ennis. Fascinated by this, we decided, in the sake of research, to abandon the planned visit to Galway Bay and instead stop in Ennis to find the good General. We were passing through it anyway. A bit of Googleing and we had his location mapped into Tomtom. So, our stop after Lough Rea, was St Columba's Church, Ennis.
We parked up in Bindon Street, right outside the church and set off in search of the General's last resting place.
I normally charge for these!
I had a taste for pizza but the town didn't appear to have any of the regular pizza houses....bloomin' foreigners! Eventually we spied an Indian restaurant across the river. We'll give that a go. On our way round though, we clapped eyes on Pavarotti's Pizza, so in we went. A small place, there was just the chef and one waitress. 3 pizzas and one pasta, washed down with Peroni later and we were ready to check out Sean's bar, allegedly the oldest pub in Ireland. Small, dark and with sawdust on the floors, the place was heaving. We managed to squeeze down near the back, fortunately (?) where 3 attractive young ladies were loitering by the bar. Grizzly, Dudley and myself sat down, Biggsey, unusually when tottie is in sight, hung back and stood against the wall.
It soon became apparent there was a chap with these girls. He seemed quite full of himself, a celeb I thought, gay Dudley thought, just a fat walleted gobshite, Grizzly thought. Biggsey had disappeared without a word. We thought he mustn't be liking the atmosphere and had decided to go back to the hotel. Never mind.
Anyway, Grizzly, as is his wont, starts taking photos of the girls. Then says he wants to take one of the guy. "Sure but I normally charge for these", he says. Quick as a flash (this bloke is annoying me) I say, "so does he, he's Biggsey's official photographer". Even quicker than a flash, the guy turns away, his nose well and truly put out of joint. Meanwhile I explain to one of the girls, looking quizzically at me, that Biggsey is an author. She claims to have heard of him. Yeah, right! And with that the four of them leave.
Their place is taken by three, shall we say, more mature ladies, with whom we instantly strike up a conversation. All three are keen to hear the tale of our tour and even seem somewhat disappointed we don't have room (I do) on the back of our bikes! We run through the now slick routine of me being Biggsey's agent, etc. It turns out that one of the women owns a book shop! Just our luck, when Biggsey has done a runner, we could have offloaded another one of his cards. Oh well. Pat takes his usual plethora of photos and even finds a minute to get in front of the camera, then it's time for us to leave.
As we walk out of the pub, blow me if Biggsey isn't sitting at a table chatting to some bloke. Seems they had both been entertained by a punch up in the bar over the road, chairs and all sorts flying in the road and stopping the traffic. I explain to Biggsey about the book shop lady (not sure he believed me at first) and take one of his cards back in to her. Kerching!, that'll be another sale. As Grizzly pointed out, on this trip we must've sold more books than Amazon!
With that, it was back to the hotel. Another day done and now just two more left together. Where has the time gone?
It soon became apparent there was a chap with these girls. He seemed quite full of himself, a celeb I thought, gay Dudley thought, just a fat walleted gobshite, Grizzly thought. Biggsey had disappeared without a word. We thought he mustn't be liking the atmosphere and had decided to go back to the hotel. Never mind.
Anyway, Grizzly, as is his wont, starts taking photos of the girls. Then says he wants to take one of the guy. "Sure but I normally charge for these", he says. Quick as a flash (this bloke is annoying me) I say, "so does he, he's Biggsey's official photographer". Even quicker than a flash, the guy turns away, his nose well and truly put out of joint. Meanwhile I explain to one of the girls, looking quizzically at me, that Biggsey is an author. She claims to have heard of him. Yeah, right! And with that the four of them leave.
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| Not sure what he plans to do with that tongue! |
As we walk out of the pub, blow me if Biggsey isn't sitting at a table chatting to some bloke. Seems they had both been entertained by a punch up in the bar over the road, chairs and all sorts flying in the road and stopping the traffic. I explain to Biggsey about the book shop lady (not sure he believed me at first) and take one of his cards back in to her. Kerching!, that'll be another sale. As Grizzly pointed out, on this trip we must've sold more books than Amazon!
With that, it was back to the hotel. Another day done and now just two more left together. Where has the time gone?
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| Biggsey's Official Photographer and friend |
Thursday, 2 August 2012
My first Guinness in 35 years!
Our overnighter in Athlone, was a touch of luxury, The Radisson Blu. We rode around the end of the barrier to the car park and found ourselves some spaces! Anyone wanna argue with The Hogs?
As one would expect, the hotel was very posh. The young lady checking us in was very pleasant and more than happy to let me babble on about being Biggsey's agent and him being an author. Not sure she believed us, she probably meets all sorts in her job. As the others joined us at the desk we gave them their key cards and then all made our way to the third floor. I was sleeping with Biggsey tonight.
If truth be told, the room, though very nice, was a little on the snug side. The view though, could not be faulted, overlooking the River Shannon. There were cruisers moored up. Now that's a way to arrive!
For days and days talk had been about the Guinness in Ireland. People always say how much better it is over there. As the last time I had Guinness was in 1977, a pint I absolutely hated, I recall, I wasn't keen to check the theory out. Grizzly, however, insisted that when we got to Athlone, I HAD to try a pint. Oh, what the hell, he was buying. And so I took my first sip of Guinness since the 27th February 1977. And, it was a very decent pint.
That little test over with we ventured out to find something to eat.
As one would expect, the hotel was very posh. The young lady checking us in was very pleasant and more than happy to let me babble on about being Biggsey's agent and him being an author. Not sure she believed us, she probably meets all sorts in her job. As the others joined us at the desk we gave them their key cards and then all made our way to the third floor. I was sleeping with Biggsey tonight.
If truth be told, the room, though very nice, was a little on the snug side. The view though, could not be faulted, overlooking the River Shannon. There were cruisers moored up. Now that's a way to arrive!
For days and days talk had been about the Guinness in Ireland. People always say how much better it is over there. As the last time I had Guinness was in 1977, a pint I absolutely hated, I recall, I wasn't keen to check the theory out. Grizzly, however, insisted that when we got to Athlone, I HAD to try a pint. Oh, what the hell, he was buying. And so I took my first sip of Guinness since the 27th February 1977. And, it was a very decent pint.
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| Mmm, not bad. |
Next stop, The Republic
Our next stop would be our lunch stop and this would be in our fifth country, The Republic of Ireland. The border crossing was barely noticeable, certainly no soldiers sporting armalite rifles, which I dare say was the case before the peace agreement came into force. Instead, just a sign saying we were entering whichever county it was (Co, Monahan I think) and the change from mph to kph on the speed limit road signs.
Lunch would be at Subway, in Monahan. Oh no it wouldn't. That had obviously closed since the street view car had been around but luckily the cafe I'd also spotted on street view, was still in business and so were we. The Hogs gave me some stick about the Subway. It seems they had been gearing themselves up for BMT or something. Me too, if truth be told.
Well lads, check this link out!!
http://goo.gl/maps/7S0xk
Fed and watered, we carried on our way. There were no sightseeing stops planned for this part of the journey, we'd done the Causeway and Lough Neagh, so now we were just mile crunching to get to our next coffee stop at Granard. Another street view target and another blow out, the bar and coffee house, now something totally different, so we rode on through.
A little way down the road, there was a petrol station and it had a coffee machine, so the Hogs were happy once again. The young lad behind the counter was wearing an Arsenal shirt, not the first I'd seen. I questioned why he was serving a kid wearing a Chelsea shirt, though I think the point was lost on him.
Soon back in the saddle, we were heading for our second lough of the day, our first in the Republic though, Lough Ree. The bit we were visiting was just a small offshoot at the south eastern tip. Thankfully, another street view location, a car park at the water's edge, actually existed. It was on a slope and very gravelly, so we had to be careful turning the bikes around and all watched anxiously as Dudley duck walked his Harley to face the way out. No mishaps this time though.
We took some photos and chatted with a couple who'd driven in to the car park. They were interested to know what we were up to. Biggsey duly produced his card again, as he explained how we'd met on Route 66.
The sun was still shining, glinting off the water's surface as we rode away on our short trip down to Athlone. What a brilliant day, despite no Subway!
Lunch would be at Subway, in Monahan. Oh no it wouldn't. That had obviously closed since the street view car had been around but luckily the cafe I'd also spotted on street view, was still in business and so were we. The Hogs gave me some stick about the Subway. It seems they had been gearing themselves up for BMT or something. Me too, if truth be told.
Well lads, check this link out!!
http://goo.gl/maps/7S0xk
Fed and watered, we carried on our way. There were no sightseeing stops planned for this part of the journey, we'd done the Causeway and Lough Neagh, so now we were just mile crunching to get to our next coffee stop at Granard. Another street view target and another blow out, the bar and coffee house, now something totally different, so we rode on through.
A little way down the road, there was a petrol station and it had a coffee machine, so the Hogs were happy once again. The young lad behind the counter was wearing an Arsenal shirt, not the first I'd seen. I questioned why he was serving a kid wearing a Chelsea shirt, though I think the point was lost on him.
Soon back in the saddle, we were heading for our second lough of the day, our first in the Republic though, Lough Ree. The bit we were visiting was just a small offshoot at the south eastern tip. Thankfully, another street view location, a car park at the water's edge, actually existed. It was on a slope and very gravelly, so we had to be careful turning the bikes around and all watched anxiously as Dudley duck walked his Harley to face the way out. No mishaps this time though.
We took some photos and chatted with a couple who'd driven in to the car park. They were interested to know what we were up to. Biggsey duly produced his card again, as he explained how we'd met on Route 66.
The sun was still shining, glinting off the water's surface as we rode away on our short trip down to Athlone. What a brilliant day, despite no Subway!
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| Party Time on Lough Ree |
Would you be after having any cash?
Day 8 started with the sun shining once again. We had been so lucky thus far, only having the one full rainy day, back in Scotland.
A quick 15 minute blast down the road saw us parked up at The Giant's Causeway. Similar to the rope bridge, there is a fair walk down the cliff path to the causeway itself. This isn't so noticeable, as you have the distraction of the audio guide as you make your way down. It really is quite remarkable, I expect you've seen it on TV but seeing these hundreds, thousands even, of hexagonal stone columns up close leaves you quite amazed at the forces that shape our world.
Grizzly wasn't about to entertain the return trip up the hill on foot. Lucky for him then, that there is a shuttle bus, so we all jumped on board for the short but steep ride back to the visitor centre. Back on the road, we headed for Lough Neagh, the big splash of blue on the Northern Irish map. This is a huge lough but we only just touched the west bank at Ballyronan. To our dismay, the recreation area and car park was devoid of any refreshment place. Strange, you would think they'd have a kiosk or something for drinks and ice creams, they had beach! The beach, as we were to witness quite bizarrely, was man made (see the photo). We stayed a short while, took some photos and then hit the road again to our next fuel stop.
The fuel stop, well! This was a little place in the middle of the terrace of shops and hoses, with just two pumps. Standing on the forecourt recording what fuel you had used and how much it cost, on a piece of paper, was an elderlyish woman. As I hung up the pump, she shouted to an elderlyish gentleman in the office how much to charge. As usual, I reached for my credit card. The woman ushered past me telling the man that the machine didn't work. He clearly wasn't aware of this fact, as he'd already stuck the card in the machine. "I can give you cash" I said. The man then opened a wooden 'desk' lid, similar to a school desk, retrieved my change and the transaction was completed. No fancy tills here! Now wise to the fact the machine was broken, when Biggsey entered the office to pay, he was met with the question, "Would you be after having any cash?". Well it was a very small town. Made us chuckle though.
A quick 15 minute blast down the road saw us parked up at The Giant's Causeway. Similar to the rope bridge, there is a fair walk down the cliff path to the causeway itself. This isn't so noticeable, as you have the distraction of the audio guide as you make your way down. It really is quite remarkable, I expect you've seen it on TV but seeing these hundreds, thousands even, of hexagonal stone columns up close leaves you quite amazed at the forces that shape our world.
Grizzly wasn't about to entertain the return trip up the hill on foot. Lucky for him then, that there is a shuttle bus, so we all jumped on board for the short but steep ride back to the visitor centre. Back on the road, we headed for Lough Neagh, the big splash of blue on the Northern Irish map. This is a huge lough but we only just touched the west bank at Ballyronan. To our dismay, the recreation area and car park was devoid of any refreshment place. Strange, you would think they'd have a kiosk or something for drinks and ice creams, they had beach! The beach, as we were to witness quite bizarrely, was man made (see the photo). We stayed a short while, took some photos and then hit the road again to our next fuel stop.
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| Either it's shallow or Jesus now operates a digger for a living! |
The fuel stop, well! This was a little place in the middle of the terrace of shops and hoses, with just two pumps. Standing on the forecourt recording what fuel you had used and how much it cost, on a piece of paper, was an elderlyish woman. As I hung up the pump, she shouted to an elderlyish gentleman in the office how much to charge. As usual, I reached for my credit card. The woman ushered past me telling the man that the machine didn't work. He clearly wasn't aware of this fact, as he'd already stuck the card in the machine. "I can give you cash" I said. The man then opened a wooden 'desk' lid, similar to a school desk, retrieved my change and the transaction was completed. No fancy tills here! Now wise to the fact the machine was broken, when Biggsey entered the office to pay, he was met with the question, "Would you be after having any cash?". Well it was a very small town. Made us chuckle though.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
OMG!
We left the ferry port at Belfast and quickly stopped to fuel up, slightly perturbed by the chap smoking on the forecourt!
Navigating through the Belfast suburbs, we were soon joining the coast road. Boy, what a stretch of road this is. We were blessed that the weather was dry and sunny, giving me, not sure about the others, the chance to do the road justice. The road surface was very good. The nature of the road itself, just fantastic, as it hugs the coast, sharing every twist and turn of this craggy but very beautiful coastline. Some long sweeping open bends around the bay, to tight twisty bits high up on the cliff face, make this a must do ride for any biker. I loved it.
All too soon though the magic was over and we arrived in Ballintoy, The Fullerton Arms welcoming us with it's large car park. Inside a young lad showed us to our rooms. These were very large with plenty of floor space for all our gear. I was sleeping with Grizzly again tonight, separate beds mind, even though I had a double. The room, in fact the whole upper floor, was roasting hot. It was as if they had been taken by surprise with the lovely weather. And lovely it was.
A quick wash (Jesus that water was hot) and we were off up the road to the Carrick-a Rede rope bridge. Only about 800m away, we had a gentle uphill stroll to get to the pay booths but it then at least another 1km to the bridge itself, along the cliff path. A sign said there was a 15 minute wait to cross the bridge. In the event we waited no more than 5, before stepping onto the 10m rope and plank crossing, swaying as we walked above the 35m drop to the sea and rocks below. There's little see or do the other side, except watch the seabirds, Fulmars in this case, and take a few scenic photos, so we weren't long before we were in the queue to cross back. A refreshing pint beckoned! As we crossed back over, Biggsey and I proved just how tough bikers are, by walking across without holding the hand ropes. COME ON!
After a swift pint back at The Fullerton and a feeble attempt to chat up some American women (what is it about Biggsey and yanks?) we mosied across the road to the Carrick-a Rede Restaurant for dinner. Back in The Fullerton there was a rematch of the Ireland v England darts match. This time though, I'm afraid, the paddy got the better of me. Then it was time for bed. It had been a very long day. I attempted to update the blog before my eyelids got too heavy. I thought I'd succeeded but strangely that never got published.
Navigating through the Belfast suburbs, we were soon joining the coast road. Boy, what a stretch of road this is. We were blessed that the weather was dry and sunny, giving me, not sure about the others, the chance to do the road justice. The road surface was very good. The nature of the road itself, just fantastic, as it hugs the coast, sharing every twist and turn of this craggy but very beautiful coastline. Some long sweeping open bends around the bay, to tight twisty bits high up on the cliff face, make this a must do ride for any biker. I loved it.
All too soon though the magic was over and we arrived in Ballintoy, The Fullerton Arms welcoming us with it's large car park. Inside a young lad showed us to our rooms. These were very large with plenty of floor space for all our gear. I was sleeping with Grizzly again tonight, separate beds mind, even though I had a double. The room, in fact the whole upper floor, was roasting hot. It was as if they had been taken by surprise with the lovely weather. And lovely it was.
A quick wash (Jesus that water was hot) and we were off up the road to the Carrick-a Rede rope bridge. Only about 800m away, we had a gentle uphill stroll to get to the pay booths but it then at least another 1km to the bridge itself, along the cliff path. A sign said there was a 15 minute wait to cross the bridge. In the event we waited no more than 5, before stepping onto the 10m rope and plank crossing, swaying as we walked above the 35m drop to the sea and rocks below. There's little see or do the other side, except watch the seabirds, Fulmars in this case, and take a few scenic photos, so we weren't long before we were in the queue to cross back. A refreshing pint beckoned! As we crossed back over, Biggsey and I proved just how tough bikers are, by walking across without holding the hand ropes. COME ON!
After a swift pint back at The Fullerton and a feeble attempt to chat up some American women (what is it about Biggsey and yanks?) we mosied across the road to the Carrick-a Rede Restaurant for dinner. Back in The Fullerton there was a rematch of the Ireland v England darts match. This time though, I'm afraid, the paddy got the better of me. Then it was time for bed. It had been a very long day. I attempted to update the blog before my eyelids got too heavy. I thought I'd succeeded but strangely that never got published.
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| The Fullerton Arms, Ballintoy |
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| Dudley on the rope bridge |
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