The Toughest Cycle I Ever Did

I’ve been big into cycling since 2014. It begun when I sprained my ankle, and I was terrified to run on my ankle for a few months, afraid the injury hadn’t fully healed, I decided to get into a new method of physical exercise, and that was the bike because running posed too much risk of re-injury. At first I had no real ambition for the bike, I just thought I’d do my running routes except I’d cycle them, but then I started looking at the distances to places, and I realized some really interesting places could be cycled to and back within a day. I quickly realized the bike wasn’t just a means of gaining physical exercise, it was a means of going on adventures! And I find getting to far off places through nothing but your own leg muscles, and if you’re lucky gravity and a favourable wind, to be really fulfilling.

My cycles became more and more ambitious, and I starting doing multi-day trips, staying in hotels allowed me to cycle even further, because I didn’t have to worry about getting home before the day was out. And in 2019 I decided on the longest cycle, and I didn’t realize it would be the toughest regardless of distance, that I ever did.

Day 1: My Home in Ballyvolane to Cappaquin

Day 2: Cappaquin to the Knockmealdown Mountains and to Dungarvan

Day 3: Dungarvan to the Comeragh Mountains, to the Kilmacthomas Viaduct, then back to Dungarvan

Day 4: Dungarven to a Hotel Half Way Between Fermoy and Michelstown (Hotels Were Hard to Find!)

Day 5: Hotel to Ballyvolane

I had never done more than a three day cycle before, and this was five days. Was I up to it? Did I have what it takes to…, yes because I’m speaking to you from three years in the future. But there were plenty of times I thought I wouldn’t make it. To many cyclists who are much fitter than me, this cycle might sound like nothing at all. But I have a significant problem with overeating. I’m still able to do thirty to forty miles in a single day, but my dietary issues make it impossible to achieve the maximum level of fitness for somebody of my age. I’m also not the kind of person who can resolve to, for example, cycle twenty or thirty miles a day seven days a week, I typically only do a cycle like this or longer once a month, on a typical day I will only do about three to four miles. Executive function problems, and the fact that my interest in actually getting on the bike varies wildly over the span of a few weeks, would make such a thing for me extremely difficult. So while it wasn’t a big cycle for many people who have achieved God like levels of fitness, for me it was like if the people who had achieved God like levels of fitness cycled from here to the moon.

So the first problem I encountered, uh oh, there was going to be a heatwave during my trip! So I was extremely careful. Eat even if you don’t feel like eating. Take water and a sports drink even if you don’t feel that thirsty. Get indoors for a longish time, a cafe will do fine, to give yourself rest from the sun. Take it nice and easy, your priority is getting there, not going too fast and ensuring you don’t make it. So to my surprise, the first day of cycling in the heat went off without a hitch. And what a lovely cycle it was, Route 666 (I assure you this road is not from the game Doom!), from Fermoy to Cappaquin, surrounded by tranquil countryside, with the birds singing, and with the beautiful River Blackwater accompanying me, it was amazing. And I visited Ballysaggartmore Towers, built by a complete prick called Arthur Keily-Ussher, who was so cruel to his tenants that some of them tried to assassinate him. The towers were built over a hundred years ago and never finished, but there’s a nice waterfall there.

The next day was a bit more challenging, and by a bit more challenging I mean a lot more challenging, and by a lot more challenging I mean exceedingly etc etc.

I just thought of the fact that I’ve decided not to do today’s cycle in order to make time to do this blogpost. The irony of this will destroy us all. Also, would you believe I had to stop typing this blogpost for a while to figure out how to turn off overtype? I’m too young to be this bad at computers!

The next day was hotter than July. That’s a Stevie Wonder song, but I think it probably was hotter than July even though it was April. I cycled up to the Knockmealdown mountains, and visited Bay Lough, a glacial lake, I love glacial lakes! Then I set out to do what I tried the year previously and did not succeed at due to a lot of mud making it impossible to continue, I was going to try to get to the top of Sugarloaf Hill. I got about half way up, but given the heat, and the length of my journey to come, energy conservation had to be put above all else, so I reluctantly continued my cycle without reaching the top.

The next leg of the trip was from the Knockmealdowns to Dungarvan. The road from Cappaquin to Dungarvan is the kind I dread. Not the steep hill, no, if they’re short they’re usually manageable. What I dread is the gentle incline, that goes on, forever. This road never seemed to end. In the blazing heat, and my poor legs had to keep going, and going, and going. Of course I understood on an intellectual level that it would end, but on an emotional level, it felt like this would never end. So at the risk of sounding like the most utterly pretentious twit you’ve ever met, I was like Sisyphus, not Theseus, he’s the ship guy.

Then I got into Dungarvan, and I become anxious. Dungarvan’s a beautiful town, by the sea, but for reasons I didn’t fully understand (still in very deep denial about my autism), the layout of the town did not make sense to me. How did I get food, what if I couldn’t find food, what if I couldn’t find my hotel? The difficulty of the cycle may have knocked my confidence a bit, so I just sat on a park bench for a while, trying to get my head together, because I didn’t know how I was going to find, well, anything.

After making a phone call to someone I know who helped me through the anxiety (this really helped!), I got my head together as best I could, found a shop and got some provisions, and found my hotel with some difficulty, the hotel was a bit hard to find, but then I managed it. I relaxed by reading Neil Peart’s book Ghost Rider (not knowing that he was terminally ill at the time and that in a few months one of the greatest musicians of all time would be dead.) It’s not that this book is particularly relaxing, it’s about how he went on a motorcycle journey to cope with the tragic death of his wife and daughter. But it put things in perspective, the difficulties I was having were so so small by comparison. And I also listened to Empath by Devin Townsend. Later in the year I would see him in Dublin, my last concert before Covid hit. (Weird thinking that I had no idea what was going to happen in less than a year.)

Third day, and I decided to take it easy. Another boiling day. I decided after yesterday’s knocks on my confidence I would just do the Greenway, nice and flat, no attempt to get to the Comeragh Mountains. That morning I was having a really bad anxiety attack. I have really bad travel anxiety at the best of times, but with yesterday’s difficulties, and knowing I had three days left of cycling in a heatwave, I was in a really bad state, so I listened to my tranquil sounds, an mp3 player with sounds of the ocean, or rain, or wind, these help me relax. Then I had my breakfast and began.

Another difficulty I should mention is that I tore my tracksuit pants the previous day. This left only the cordoroy pants intended for relaxing in my hotel. Cordoroy is one of the most comfortable materials ever in general, but for cycling, no no no. Also another problem that was quickly becoming apparent was that the saddle was in no way suitable for cycling long distance. The pants was the worst for the job, and the saddle was the worst for the job. And I still had three days left.

There are special pants you can get that are optimal for cycling, but I have body consciousness issues, which is why I call them nothing to the imagination pants. Also they’re expensive, which is why my best option for cycling long distance is usually tracksuit pants.

So I took off down the Waterford Greenway, which is absolutely beautiful. I stopped on a small but beautiful beach, and went through a tunnel where it rained, a tunnel where it rains, I was so excited! And I went as far as the Kilmacthomas Viaduct, a wonderful Viaduct that I’m glad is part of the Greenway, as opposed to just being left in a state of disrepair like so many other historical viaducts around the country. This section of the greenway has an absolutely beautiful view of the Comeragh Mountains. And of the Flahavan’s mill. Oats, oats, oats! I didn’t know that in a few months I would become a vegetarian/reducer, and that oats would become a big part of my life, I can scarcely fathom a cup of tea without them now. Along the greenway there were people walking and people cycling, all enjoying the beauty of the greenway, all enjoying getting out and about, and sometimes in a situation like that, I feel a strong sense of community, even without talking to anyone. But before I reached the Viaduct, I decided to, despite deciding not to earlier, turn off the Greenway and make a bid for the Comeragh Mountains.

Hill, hill, hill. I stopped in a nearby wood for a rest, and then continued to the Comeraghs. During the planning stage of the trip, at my most ambitious I thought I would try to get to Coumshingaun Lake, a breathtaking glacial lake in the Comeraghs, but at this point I thought I’d be lucky if I got to Mahon Falls, a really stunning waterfall also in the Comeraghs. As it happened neither of these things were to be.

With only about half a mile to Mahon Falls, I reluctantly decided this was as far as I go. The weather was as hot as ever, probably the hottest part of the day too, and the road leading to the waterfall reminded me of Gordon’s Hill, or perhaps even Patrick’s Hill (for those who don’t live in Cork, take my word for it, these hills strike fear into the hearts of the boldest). So I reluctantly decided to quit while I was ahead. I had a beautiful view of the Comeraghs from where I stood, and that would have to be enough. I cycled downhill and continued up the Greenway.

Day 4, my cycle from Dungarvan to the hotel halfway between (I’m just saying Mitchelstown it’s easier!). It mostly went well, it was a much much cooler day, even felt much needed rain. I went for a short walk in Lismore, and through Lismore castle gardens, but my legs felt like they were going to pack up. Walking uphill or downhill was difficult, my legs felt like they were on their last legs. I don’t care if there’s a better way to phrase that it’s my blog.

Also around this part of the trip a paradox called Colm’s Paradox becomes relevant, that’s copyrighted you can’t use it. Colm’s Paradox is where you are afraid you don’t have the physical strength to finish a really difficult cycle. So you take a rest. But cycling acts as an anxiety suppressant. So taking a rest feels really unpleasant because your anxiety starts to really, really act up. So the only way to deal with the anxiety about the cycle, is to keep cycling! The problem is, every time you take much needed rest, you know you’re going to have one hell of an anxiety attack.

I neared Fermoy, and at some point my favourite red hoody, tied to the back of my bike, fell off and was lost forever more. Oh no! I really liked that hoody, tried to order an identical one online but couldn’t find it. I stopped for a break in Fermoy, and the next part of the trip almost broke me, even though it was the second last day.

The road from Fermoy to Mitchelstown is just hill, hill, hill, not a gentle incline but a steep hill that goes on forever. I felt close to tears. It went on and on and on, it felt like it would never end. But end it did, and I relaxed in my hotel, which had a restaurant, so I could have a nice meal.

Day Five. Only twenty miles left. What could go wrong now? Well a combination of bad anxiety and eating weird food at weird times meant I vomited first thing in the morning. Uh oh. How was I to get home? I was tempted to find a way to get a lift home, but I’m glad I didn’t, because it would be a shame to call it off so close to the finish line. In any case, if it was anxiety induced vomiting, then cycling home would help, not hurt. So I decided to hop on the bike and go.

It was a nice easy cycle, no drama. And I got home. And my Easter eggs were waiting for me. I barely looked at the bike for over a month! But some point over the next few days, I figured out how long I’d cycled, though I can’t be 100 percent accurate. My estimate is that over those five days, I cycled 174 miles. Will I ever equal or better this? I hope so. Covid has certainly thrown a spanner in the works, and my travel anxiety is always a problem. But there’s one cycle I’d like to do of this length or longer, even if I’m never able to do a cycle of this type of length again. In 2018, I cycled to Waterford for the first time, so that was my first cycle to another county. So the next step up from that, is a cycle to another province, so I would like to do a five day cycle to County Kilkenny in Leinster. This time with better pants and a better saddle!

This cycle was one of the hardest things I ever did, but it is by far one of my happiest memories. When I think of this trip it fills me with the most unbelievable joy. I hope it’s not the last of these kind of adventures.