Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson Bicycle touring journals
July 22 Saturday sun showers 16ยบ C Bicycle touring Northern Ireland
The Northern Ireland terrain we are bicycling is rolling hills. Lots of sheep. I never knew Ireland had so many sheep. They're not even known for sheep, are they? If there are this many sheep in Ireland and they're not even know for sheep, I can't imagine what New Zealand must be like. They must use mutton in Irish stew. The farmers we spoke to said they didn't milk the sheep, like on Sardinia.
Northern Ireland does have something in common with Ireland. It is very green. Guess they must get more than their fair share of rain here, too.
On our bicycle tour of Northern Ireland, so far we have bicycled through wooded valleys, and past streams and rivers. The rivers aren't the crystal clear we saw on our bicycle tour in Ireland, though. The rivers we've seen in Northern Ireland have been a dark brown coffee colour. I don't think the dark colour is from pollution, though. Ithink it is from the peat bogs in the area. We haven't seen any signs of heavy industrialization, but we have seen workers out in the fields digging up blocks of peat to use as home heating fuel.
There continues to be a noticeable difference in the people living in Northern Ireland compared to their very friendly cousins living to the south. People in Northern Ireland stare at us suspiciously as we ride by on our fully loaded touring bicycles. Some don't wave or even say hello when we do. The kids are obnoxious showoffs.
We pulled our touring bicycles to a halt to buy groceries at Plumbridge, Northern Ireland. A gaggle of six to ten year olds were playing in a park. When the boys saw us they had to rush over and get on their bikes. They proceeded to ride up and down the street with no hands.
As we cycled on our way out of town, one boy whipped by me on his bicycle. Partway past, he screamed out, "Race yuh!" He immediately did a U-turn right in front of me. I had to swerve to miss running into him.
Sharon said the people working in the Mace grocery store were very friendly (hee hee -- what a catchy name for a grocery store. Only in Ireland?).
The Northern Ireland farmers stare when we bicycle by. The kids laugh. The dogs are vicious curs that bark, snarl, and snap at us. Northern Ireland doesn't appear to get many tourist - let alone cycle tourists. In the short time we've cycle toured here, I'm beginning to realize why.
In Carrybridge, Northern Ireland, at a marina I went in to take a shower. Standing stark naked with one (very clean) arm frozen in a cold stream of water, I cursed and muttered at the unfairness of it all. My only consolation, Sharon, next door in the women's shower was surely confronting the same fate. Still cursing and muttering, I pulled my dank cycling clothes back on and went, unhappily, out to my bike.
Sharon appeared from the women's shower a few minutes later, all happy. "Hey!" I grumbled. "You had hot water, didn't you!?" I looked at her accusingly, like it was all her fault that my shower only had prodigious quantities of cold water.
"Of course," she replies, happily humming to herself. Merrily, merrily, row your boat, or something. Which starts my swearing again with renewed vigor.
Sharon suggests that instead of swearing, I use the women's shower.
Hmmm. Why didn't I think of that? Yeah, I know ... I was too busy swearing.
I decide to use the women's shower. I rationalize that if I am man enough to call a shower a douche in France, then I can muster using the women's shower in Ireland.
They smell funny.
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