DAY 4 - Monday / Enniskillen, Fermanagh - Slieve League, County Donegal - Ballyness Bay, County Donegal / 145 miles



21/07/2014 / Monday / Enniskillen, Fermanagh - Slieve League, County Donegal - Ballyness Bay, County Donegal / 145 miles

I had a great sleep, with no raping from either side! I woke up however, with a little more sense than I had went to bed with and felt a little ashamed of myself. Though were both adults and of course both enjoy intimacy, which is only natural, I still felt a little awkward. This soon passed as we sat having breakfast and a morning kiss with coffee. A great way to start the day, plus being told how good a kisser I am, is a real good little ego booster.

(Incidentally a short time after finishing this trip, I caught up with Malina. She had moved out of Enniskillen, as she said she would and moved to Belfast, to start a new life there. Gaining a new job as well as new friends and has certainly not let the grass grow under her feet and is now happy in a serious relationship.)



Image showing Enniskillen Castle.

Not mine but a stock Image from enniskillencastle.co.uk

Chris turns up on ‘Irish time’ at around 10:00. I manage to sneak a quick last kiss from Malina, out of Chris’s view and follow his car, to meet up with his cousin at a café in town, giving me a quick chance to have a look around Enniskillen as I had planned to do.  After a fuel up at the local petrol station, we pick Chris’s cousin ‘Helen’ up and head out for Slieve League.

On the way to Slieve League, I noticed a rattle coming from the bike, which I thought was coming from my cam chain. There was nothing I could do and I certainly didn’t want to miss the opportunity to hike, with someone who can save me time by leading the way. The bike felt OK, so I put up with it.

Our first stop was for a photo opportunity, from a viewing point with a clear view across to the Slieve League cliff’s, after following a nice twisty, thin and gravely bit of road, that followed the cliff edge, ending at a parking area, within a short distance of the viewing point.

Fig. 1 - Slieve League, the 'Traditional Irish Sweater' stall is just out of shot, to the right of this image.

The car park, when we arrived was jammed full of with tourists, providing a captive market for the ‘Traditional Irish Sweater’ stall, that Helen duly took the mick out of, and rightly so. Who, but a gullible tourist would pay £50 for a jumper? The cliff tops themselves where, unfortunately at the time, obscured by low cloud so I didn’t get the full, impressive effect, I had read about in reviews.

After taking a few photos, we were soon got on to another gravel track, that Chris knew and one that I really wouldn’t have found by myself. This road made me glad I’d brought, a bike that could handle it. Half way up following the lane, I could see in the distance that it narrowed and became a hiking track up the side of this hill. I started to wonder, if there was a flat spot, to park the bike safely on.

We soon stopped in a small parking come turning area, where I managed to find a reasonably flat bit to park on. Quickly changing into jeans and T-shirt, I grab my rain jacket, as looking towards the top of the hill it, was clouded in thick sea mist, which I knew could get bitterly cold.
We started up the track, which made me realise, how little rest my body had had over the last few days. Luckily I wasn’t alone in my suffering, as Helen had mentioned she’d been working a 50+ hour shift in a restaurant, being on her feet for most of it. Mentally, she was willing to climb a mountain, but not physically. I felt I had just a little more energy in me. She soon bailed out and headed back to the car for a well-earned sleep. I focused on the Yellow marker stakes that I could see, specifically the furthest one that could be seen through the mist and marked it as my final goal. For Chris however, who was training to enter the Police force, this was a walk in the park.

Once at the top, and after a few stops to take in the view and learn how to breathe again, we had reached the base of the cloud layer, where the temperature started to noticeably drop. After a few minutes of walking through this soup, we came across an abandoned stone settlement, where a  family who, where also hiking, where sheltering and having their lunch. We said 'hello' and took up the other corner, of what at some time in the past might have been a welcome and cosy croft, but was now more akin to a pile of rocks, showing only clues of its former shape.

Chris, who had thoughtfully brought along some food as I’d completely failed to think ahead, made up some Cheese and Ham rolls for us and also produced a flask of tea, which had an odd taste as he’d failed to clean out the flask properly beforehand! Having sat for only a few minutes, we were starting to get cold, I put both my fleece and windproof on, as we thought about moving on. Before we started off again, we asked the family about the visibility further on, according to them the Yellow markers ran out around 100m further on, then after that through the gloom is the edge of the cliff. Feeling a little apprehensive I follow Chris’s lead soon leaving the Yellow markers behind us we edged closer to the edge to take a look, not that anything but the white of the clouds. We got to the cliffs edge and peeked over but could only see a few metres, ahead whilst bracing ourselves against the howled wind, that was blowing up the cliff face, giving us what felt like a much relieving fresh breeze to cool, us as it was beginning to be a muggy day.

Chris had to be back in Enniskillen, so on the way back down we made good time though I had to be more careful in my Adventure Motorcycle boots, which had a hiking boot base, but still slipped a little on the wet grass. Finally back where we had parked up, I thanked Chris for guiding me said my goodbyes to him and Helen, who had had by now a much needed kip.

I now, turned my attention to the mysterious rattle, I had heard that morning. Whilst checking the chain I soon find the problem, which now seemed obvious. I find that it’s stretched and is much too loose, consequently rattling against the new centre stand, that I fitted just before the trip, which is proving to be more trouble than its worth, as I soon find, further along in my trip, that it causes me to bottom out far too easily, when going around corners which have any form of dip in them.

Once the chain has been tightened properly and with a little road test to prove it, the bikes  running fine again, I take a quick nap before moving onwards North and up the coastal road, but before I can start, though I find I need the call of nature badly. Typically hikers, now seem to be appearing from everywhere, so I spend the next 15 minutes walking quickly around to find a blind spot, from the trails and some privacy, which is not easy when you’re on the side of a hill.

Fig. 2 - Where I stopped quickly for a few shot of the bike and Cliffs,

before getting out of the sheep farmers way.

On the way back down the single track, I stop and take some photos of the bike and the view, including one I've now edited, to use as a front image for this blog. I have to move on quickly, as I'm soon joined by the sheep farmer in his 4x4 on this single track. I pull over a little way on and let him pass, but end up by leap frogging him again, as he lets me through the sheep gate at the bottom of the track. He soon catches me up again, before the main road, the road has a steep gradient and I'm taking my time but at the same time I don't wish to be annoying to the farmer, so I'm glad when I get on the main road, the R263 and can speed up again.

I realised that on my way to Slieve League this morning, I had passed both Ben Bulben and the Glencar Waterfall’s, which were on my list of places to visit. However the Glencar Waterfall I read, is best viewed shortly after rainfall, when the river has swollen, but there hasn't been any rain for the past few weeks, so I reason it’s best to keep moving forward and choose not to back track.

I soon leave the R263 and take another single track road, this time the road is smooth rather than rutted as I ride through a wide open valley which reminds me of a lot of Scotland's seeming barren highlands. Where thousands of years ago there where thick forests, now there’s peat bogs, short grass and heather. As I ride along I see scattered plastic sacks, in small groups scattered over the hill sides, as well as lines of scars in the landscape. I then start seeing small piles of peat blocks called turf, laid out to dry and realise I'm riding through a peat farm area and the plastic bags are actually filed with these logs of peat drying to be used as fuel.

Fig. 3 - Peat farming in Ireland.

Peat has been traditionally farmed in this way for of years. Peat burns slowly making it suitable for use in both indoor stoves and fireplaces. However there has been some recognition now of overharvesting over the years, strict regulations is now being in place, allowing limited industrialised farming plus the setup of conservative areas.  Blanket bogs although partially man made, due to deforestation, have a very unique biodiversity, found nowhere else and have recently been found to be a valuable environmental 'sponge', being able to store carbon from our atmosphere.

At An Clachan Gailf I re-joined the R263 and follow it a few short miles to the coast, where I stop briefly to photograph, a small cove with a boat slip. I find, unfortunately, that my phone camera is struggling to adjust to the brightness of the sun, making all my photos appear darker than the reality.

Fig. 4 - Trying a different photo angle by using my bike's mirrors.

From Glencolumbkille, I take the R230/N56 to Ardara. The few miles before joining the N56, I ride down a steep valley, stopping at the top for a few photos, then again half way down, enjoying the views and discovered I could, by using my handlebar mirrors in the shot, include both views in one image, in an attempt to try something different, in my photography.

Fig. 5 - View from bridge of the Owenea River outlet.

Going North on the R261 from Ardara I cross a bridge over the Owenea River, and have to pull into walk back and take a photo from the bridge, viewing across the outlet out to the sea. Unfortunately my camera failed, yet again, to capture the beauty that I saw with my eyes.

I was tempted to cut out the R257, heading to the furthest North-West you can go. But something made me go for it and I’m so glad that I did, as what a road it turned into, with great views and very welcoming people. One village I passed through, had a Céilidh on at the local hall and you could spot people making their way towards, it from up to a few miles out of town, all dressed in their best. I was very tempted to turn around and join in as I love a good Céilidh but I didn’t have anything to wear, though being originally from Scotland, I knew I should have brought my Kilt.

Fig. 6 - Des Res. This house is a reminder of the troubles.

The most surprising thing I did see, was near the outskirts of Brinlack. There was this small house standing all on its own, on a corner and had been gutted, with the whole front wall painted in the Irish flag and pocked marked with bullet holes. Out of respect I didn’t go back and take a pic, plus I kind of like breathing, it’s a habit I know. But it showed me that troubles actually happened.

Fig. 7 - My free camping spot for the night.

Further along the coast, I spot a beautiful sandy peninsular, next to Ballyness Bay, plus I also spy a tent and campervan pitched upon it. It looks perfect and right now, I feel that it’s a good time to pull over and find a spot to kip for the night and this’ll do nicely as my first free camping night in Ireland. The tent and VW camper I find, once I've navigated my way down the sandy track and out onto the peninsula, whilst also ignoring the No Camping signs, belongs to a very nice lady called Helen Crealen with her two girlfriends and all their daughters. I asked if they’ve had any trouble camping there, but as it turns out they’ve been there for 3 nights without any problems whatsoever, so I should be fine for just the night. I’m recommended a good spot, further down the track and just on the left, out of the way, which is ideal for me. I am also instructed that’s once I’m parked up and settled in, that’s I should pop back for a cup of tea if I like.

Fig. 8 - Exploring the sand dunes.

So following there instructions and also taking them up on their kind offer, I take the bike further down the sandy track in search of the spot they suggested. I pass a few likely places, but decide whilst I’m about it to carryon a little further and end up exploring all along the sand flats, up until where I find the where the sand gets too soft and I chicken out, the last thing I want is to get the bike stuck on a tidal flat!

I turn around and ride back, parking up at the first spot I initial found, having to leaning the bike against a sand dune as the ground, being mostly sand, was too soft to use any of my stands on. I felt it wasn’t the one Helen had meant, however it would do the job.

Fig. 9 - The bike rests on a sand dune, this is my home for the night.

I take a few pictures and set up my donated tent for the first time, which turns out to be a bit smaller in design, than my singed one, but I somehow manage to fit everything in.

Once setup I have a quick bite to eat of brioche, I had bought from Lidl earlier in the day and a small packet of porridge, yum. Not having a lot to share with me, I grab my whiskey hip flasks and trot over to see Helen and the ladies for tea, as the Sun starts to goes down. These ladies turned out to be a lot of fun and I watch, as they all work together preparing dinner and sorting this and that. I was offered a few beers and some tasty homemade salad, and at one point a funny thing happened, where one minute I was chatting away and then the next the youngest daughter, who was a dear heart, gives me a massive hug, much to the amusement of everyone and bemusement of myself. Helen says it’s a good sign that I’m OK and have been accepted, that plus the dog hadn’t barked, once, at me.

Conversation is easy going, in between having the youngest daughters, captured caterpillars shown to me every five minutes, in case I forget what they look like. We talk about travel and places I should visit whilst in Ireland, it was really nice evening. Soon though it was time to go and with a promise to see my, new temporary neighbours, in the morning for breakfast before I continue my journey, I wander back to my tent. The nights still, apart from some cars I  can hear on the main road kids playing in their cars, doing donuts, leaving tell tail rings of rubber on the road surface’s, that I’ve been spotting periodically along my journey, they soon move on.

As I walk back to the tent I remember, when I was young of not being afraid of the dark, then for a short time I was? I suppose a lot of people grow out of it? Nowadays, I love to fully immerse in the peaceful stillness of night and this particular night was full of delicious silence, that gave me a well needed peaceful night’s sleep.