I cycled 28 miles!

We had a free day in Waterford, and my hotel room was small, hot and noisy. A walking tour had been laid on for us but wasn't till 11 30. My guided explorations of the day before on the Suir Valley railway had revealed that there is a cycle track called the Waterford Greenway, that runs all the way from Waterford to Dungarvan, a harbour town some 46 km away. I wanted to visit Dungarvan anyway, and possibly some gardens at Mount Congreve, so I decided to be incredibly brave and hire a bicycle ..

When I say brave, I mean that I haven't even touched a bicycle since cycling through the city of Bremen at carnival time in 2020 (Before CoVid). I have zero ability to judge distance and speed, and can't drive a car. BUT I had noticed that the cycling track was flat, and protected, running along an old railway line  How hard could it be?

I found the bike shop, got myself kitted out, then headed out of town. The garden entrance to Mount Congreve did not look promising: no bikes parked outside, so I told myself I'd stop by on the way back, maybe. Cycled along for some km beside the river Suir. It's wide, and very slow-flowing on its way to Waterford. First stop at 10km was Kilmeaden station, terminus of the restored Suir Valley railway. This is a narrow-guage railway with a diesel engine hauling the carriages. I'd been there the day before, and I'd say it's an experience mainly aimed at children. 

As if to prove my point, the train pulled in as I sat eating my ice lolly on the platform, and disgorged two lots of excited preschool age children. One lot was told to "follow Miss Murphy to the bus to Tramore" and the other group sat down to eat crisps or ice creams. I found them very endearing, but had no wish to return to being a nursery teacher!

Somewhere along the next stretch I encountered the Lithuanian layby, above, which was related by the Lithuanian community in the area to promote understanding of its people and cultures. I stopped and read the information board, and thanked the nameless Lithuanians.

I carried on to the famine workhouse and the restaurant at Kilmacthomas. My first thought had been to have lunch there, and maybe visit the workhouse, then turn around and go back. However, a conversation with another cyclist revealed that the second part of the trail was much less enclosed, with greater variety, so I checked with the guys in the cycle place (there was another one there) if I could drop off the bike at Dungarvan, at the end of the line, and take the bus back. They said that would be fine 

I then went to the restaurant and had the BEST lunch ever! It was some kind of beetroot, goats cheese and almond and black pudding salad and a San Pellegrino lemonade. Not Michelin-starred, but it was to me because it was local produce, fresh, and it wasn't deep fried. I've been skipping lunches because it's been hard to find food that I like. Many nuts have been consumed.

Carried on, last old station platforms with pop up shops for walkers/cyclists, and toilets too! Over a splendid viaduct, a bridge over a ravine with a river far below. Then I approached a long tunnel, and a sing outside indicated that the lights weren't working properly. Cripes! There was a cyclist in front of me, blocking out the green light at the far end. I didn't have much choice to go on, and follow him. It was in fact fine, but I was glad to be out again, with the sun and the wind in my hair. 

For the final few km, there was a view of the sea at Dungarvan (and the Flavahan's oat factory  rising up out of the countryside. There were some distant mountains too, the Comeragh range, I think. I carried on and on, counting up the km on the posts, until we came to a boardwalk with the sea on one side and a lagoon on the other. This carried on for at least 1km, and it was invigorating to see the actual sea at last.
Dungarvan, when I got there, was fluttering with flags of many nations, and the Pride flag, and the harbour was filled with little boats. My heart sang. 

I soon located the bike office, and the man who'd been at the Kilmacthomas depot earlier. 'You made it!' he said, and the other beardie guy looked me up and down with new respect. I handed over the bike, which they loaded on to a trailer, then walked into the health food shop next door, to buy some massage balm to prevent serious aches and pains later. 

Had a celebratory ce cream by the sea, then set off across the hump backed bridge to find the bus stop. The dot matrix display said that my bus was due in twelve minutes. The minutes were then counted down, until the display said 'due'. Still no bus, at least not the no.40. The display then updated to 'No real time information available' and then to 'bext no 40 due in 59 ninutes'. I felt cheated, but everyone else waited on stoically, and we did eventually board a bus, and I get back to Waterford, and we did get stuck in a jam, but no matter, I got my bath, and my oils anointed. 

After dinner I went out clubbing with a a couple from our group. The woman, C, had said she wanted to hear authentic Irish music, but she didn't like the gloomy ballads. I think she wanted a whole band with bodhrans and bin-lids. She did mention that she'd enjoyed Riverdance. Ah well ... the singer did play The Fields of Athenry and some Christy Moore songs, and at this I was happy. Music is all I need sometimes, and fresh air and freedom, as experienced on my bike ride. 

Blip has told me I have another  blipversary or number date. I started blipping on 15 July 2012, with a bowl of porridge. I've missed a few, especially over the winters. I was in my 40s when I started, and now I'm not far off 60. To my knowledge, I have not cycled this far in one day since I was a teenager. I'm very happy to have done so, and to be still blipping almost eleven years after I started. It's all because of the unique, dedicated  people that run this blipship, and all those that sail in her. 

Thank you, all.