The Most Moderately Difficult Cycle I Ever Did

I’ve talked about the most difficult cycle I ever did:

At the risk of being anti-climatic after that, I talked about the second most difficult cycle I ever did:

Now, at the risk of being even more anti-climatic again, I am going to talk about, the most moderately difficult cycle I ever did. Yeah, I’m really doing these in the wrong order aren’t I? I dunno, maybe start reading with this one? I dunno. Maybe I can add a bit of drama by talking about some stuff that came close to sabotaging the cycle, but ultimately were no big deal. So here’s the breakdown (I think the word breakdown sounds fancy) of the cycle.

Day 1: Ramsey Hill to Drimoleague
Day 2: Drimoleague to the Mass Path on Sheep’s Head Peninsula (I wasn’t sure what part of Sheep’s Head Peninsula I was going to visit, but that’s what I ultimately decided on.)
Day 3: Drimoleague to Ramsey Hill

So, how the cycle was nearly sabotaged from the get go is, well, bicycles are evil. Bicycles make Atilla the Hun and Vlad the Impaler look like cute puppies by comparison. If Darth Vader saw a bicycle he’d say, “Ah come on, I know I’ve done some bad shit, but this is really taking the piss.” And how do you know he didn’t say this? Because your memory of Darth Vader saying, “Luke, I am your father,” is incorrect. What else are you remembering wrong from the Star Wars films?

So I was staying in Ramsey Hill for a few weeks, and wouldn’t you know it, one of the spokes decided to break. It didn’t break when I was still up in Cork, where there are a few bike shops, but when I’m in Ramsey Hill, miles from the nearest bike shop, it decided to snap. This is actually a problem it had been giving me all year. Bikes go through weird phases where they give you a problem over, and over, and over again, and all of a sudden the problem just stops. 2019 (the year this cycle took place) was the year of the constant broken spokes. And 2020 was the year of constant punctures despite having kevlar tyres. Bikes are evil, they are sickening creatures that have corrupt souls…………….
(Five Hours Later)
………not an ounce of basic decency within their deeply immoral hearts. So anyway, the option I went with was to simply cut out the broken spoke, and hope for the best. One broken spoke will cause another broken spoke, which will cause another, and another, etc, etc. So the only way to deal with the problem, which may well have not worked, was to simply remove the damaged spoke, and fortunately, it did work.

So I took off, though before I started I checked that I have everything in my bags over and over again, for more than an hour. I suspect that I have undiagnosed O.C.D, and I don’t mean it the way people say, “I like to wash my hands sometimes, OMG I totes have OCD!” I mean I strongly suspect that I have it because sometimes I cannot stop checking things. But anyway, I managed to stop checking, and the cycle could begin in earnest (I don’t know what in earnest means but it sounds fancy.)

I stopped in Clonakilty (or Clon as the cool kinds call it) and stocked up on important provisions. Water, cashew nuts, and lucozade. I probably bought popcorn as well (though I can’t remember) because I think it’s quite good at getting rid of ghastly hunger pangs and give you a bit of energy. Then I made a decision, not knowing that if I had decided otherwise the trip was doomed, doomed, DOOMED! You can get to Drimoleague via Skibbereen or via Dunmanway. I’m more familiar with the Skibbereen route, but it’s got more main road without hard shoulder, which is not a cyclist’s friend. The Dunmanway route has safer roads that are nicer and more tranquil. So completely spontaneously, I decided on the Dunmanway route. Little did I know that on the Skibbereen route there were road works that would have meant the trip was doomed, doomed, doomed, DOOMED! (I did four doomeds this time).

So I got as far as Dunmanway and stocked up on more provisions. This was my first time having a second bag on my pannier. The advantage was that I could bring more stuff. The disadvantage is that I wouldn’t risk leaving the bag on the pannier, so had to remove it from the pannier, and reposition it when I got back, which was time consuming for my clumsy fingers, every time I left the bike for a while.

As I was cycling from Dunmanway to Drimoleague, I had a thought briefly that post-Covid Colm simply can’t believe. I thought, “I am basically travelling down a road, this isn’t very exciting, do I really want to do a multi day trip again?” For the last three years I have not been able to do a multi day trip, Covid disrupted 2020 and 2021, and even the parts of these two years where hotels were open, I couldn’t do these kinds of trip for other reasons, and this year I have not been able to do one for others reasons. So I’ll answer 2019 Colm’s brief moment of doubt in multi-day cycles, yes, I absolutely want to do loads of them again!

I arrived in Drimoleague, in the lovely Top of the Rock Pod Páirc and Walking Centre. The owners of the Pod Páirc made me feel really welcome there, staying in a pod was really nice, I like unconventional accommodation, and it’s within a short distance of some amazing scenery. Normally after cycling forty miles, I’m in no humour to go walking, but I had to see, the following:

And later that evening, from the Pod Páirc:

That evening I had soup that I bought from the local shop. It was my first time cooking my own food in a hotel. This achievement was undercut by the fact that the soup wasn’t very nice. I didn’t sleep that well in the pod that night, though it was really nice pod I thought it would be colder so put on the heater, and it was boiling. Rookie mistake!

The next day I thought I wouldn’t be able to have breakfast cereal for breakfast, but it turned out I was able to. 2019 Colm was so overwhelmed by the thought of cooking his own food at a hotel that he felt it was an achievement that he was able to, and he was so overwhelmed by the thought of not being able to have breakfast cereal that he was very relieved that he was able to. If 2019 Colm was any deeper in denial he would have reached the Earth’s core.

After my extremely autistic breakfast I took off down the road to Sheep’s Head peninsula. Yay! It’s all downhill! For the love of all that is good don’t spoil the fun by thinking of what that means on the way back!

I felt such excitement when I reached the start of the peninsula. I had wanted to go to this beautiful part of the country for so long! This was one of the first things I saw:

The weather was mostly sunny, and I stopped many times along the way for a look at the ocean and the distant mountains. Sheep’s Head is a fun cycle, cycling right next to the ocean is the best! I started to feel tired, and conscious of needing to make the trip back, I decided the main place I would explore is the Mass Path. Back in the day when people didn’t have cars, the shortest route to the local church was over a big huge hill. I started to make my way up the hill, correctly guessing it would give me a fantastic view.

I got as high up the Mass Path as I could, but it’s deceptive, it’s one of those hills where every ten metres you walk reveals another ten metres that you couldn’t see, so rather than risk depleting the energy for the cycle back, I stopped and sat down, and just took it all in. I got all four seasons every ten minutes. Sun, wind, and rain. And I’m glad. If you haven’t seen Sheep’s Head in every type of weather condition, you haven’t seen it. When the sun is out, take in the view, and enjoy the brightness and the heat, wait a minute or so, and enjoy seeing the harsh beauty of the wind and the rain. I could have stayed there for hours, but I was low on Lucozade, and rather than risk energy depletion I decided to get a move on. But on the way back I saw this really nice waterfall:

I approached Bantry, and got a bit lost, but I asked directions, which was a miracle because Social Anxiety Disorder. I made it back to Bantry and got some provisions, and remember how I said earlier that the cycle from Drimoleague was lovely because it was all downhill? Well the Hill Gods expect you to pay a heavy price, a heavy price indeed. Was this a needlessly poetic way of saying if you go down a hill you’ve got to go up it on the way back? Maybe, or maybe everyone else is wrong.

And a tough hill it was. It’s the dreaded long gentle incline. Worse then the short tough hill that’s over in two or three minutes, it’s not that it’s that tough, but it goes on, and on, and on. But finally I made it into Drimoleague, and bought myself a lovely chocolate bar. Excuse me as I take a moment to bask in the happy memory of buying that bar after a successful day of pedalling.

Okay basking complete. But I took a wrong turn on the way up to the Pod Páirc, it would get me there alright, but the hill was unbelievably steep. I was cycling for a mere three seconds and then having to stop and take a rest. I would have to, no, it could not be so. I would have to, no, there had to be another way! NO! But alas, there was no other way. I would have to, get off the bike and push! NOOOOOOOOO! Although I’m half joking, because I have such attention to certain details, the thought was crossing my mind that this cycle I would have to label an uncompleted cycle. But I thought, all of the cycle was still done through the power of my own muscles, my own physical energy, no motorized transport involved. So I decided, yes, this counts as a completed cycle.

I got back to the Pod Páirc and had my lovely bar (IT WAS SO NICE!) and had some tea. And then enjoyed the calm tranquillity of the place, so nice. Oh yeah, and why is the Pod Páirc blessed with such amazing sunsets!:

The book I had with me was Roadshow: Landscape with Drums – A Concert Tour by Motorcycle by Neil Peart. Nice to have a travel book with you while you’re travelling, but funnily enough I can’t for the life of me remember if I got a chance to read it on this trip. Neil Peart, one of my favourite musicians ever, would die in another five months time. It made me so sad that after I got the news, for the next eighteen days I listened to one of the Rush albums that Neil Peart was on, which is all but the first one.

I also had a podcast with me, The Irish Passport Podcast, which I used to be a big fan of but now only listen to occasionally. Maybe it was this particular episode that put me off. They made the argument that an Irish person who goes to another country, with literally zero intention of ever returning, should be able to vote in Irish elections. Now I do think it’s ridiculous that if you’re temporarily out of the country for three months you can’t vote in an Irish election, but the argument was being advanced that you should be able to vote in elections who’s result will never, ever affect you, because you have said goodbye to Ireland and will never return. So yeah, that sounds like a bad idea.

The next day I felt sick with anxiety while eating breakfast, unfortunately my travel anxiety was getting worse and would worsen during Covid. But the cycle from Drimoleague to Clonakilty was pleasant and uneventful, I stopped in Clonakilty to stretch my legs and have a nice meal, then cycled back to Ramsey Hill.

This was the last multi-day cycle I did, and let me tell you, I miss it more than I can even explain. There is something about covering long distances, seeing wonderful places, and doing it all with nothing but the muscles in your legs, to travel while being out in the open air the whole time. If the only thing I accomplish next year is getting back into these multi-day cycles, I will still be very happy.