West coast of Ireland.

A few months ago I had taken a wee trip up to the most northerly point of this wet and soggy land upon which I wearily tread.
Malin Head lies at the top of Donegal and as I stood there on that warm sunny afternoon I thought it would be a jolly wheeze to start from there and make my way to the southern most point of Ireland, Mizen Head by either the fastest route or the most windey, meandering route along the coast. I had'nt the time off then but promised myself I would later in the year.

As I said, that was a few months ago. In the meantime me head went a bit off then level and I found myself feeling pretty shitty most of the time. I don't want to start saying I was depressed or anything, that would be an insult to people who do suffer from that most debilatating of conditions, but I was having more 'blue' days than usual and was glad that I had two and a half weeks holidays to try and get some joy back into my time.
I was looking forward to the trip and thought that it would be just the ticket to get happy again.

This pic was taken back on my first visit. A lovely warm, still morning.

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The weather forecasters didn't give me much hope coming up to my time off. There were gales moving my way, the tail end of a hurricane that was moving up from the east coast of merica.
I had the time off and was fucked if i was going to sit in the house waiting to go back to work.
I chilled out for a few days, the weather was rather nice but I was scheduled to leave on the Monday morning, and the storms were hitting about then. I crossed me fingers and hoped for the best.

Over the weekend, the weather turned shite and by Monday you wouldn't have put a dog out of the house to piss. I called off the expo for a day and sat looking out, sighing and been melancholy and in no way pissing my whaife off.

Tuesday was a bit better and so at about half 12 i pushed off and headed up through Derry, crossed over into Donegal and made my way for Mallin head.

I had hoped to get there, take a pic or two and then start to head around the coast of Donegal and get a B&B somewhere down around Sligo that evening. Poor naive fool that I was.

I have never been out in such weather. And I bike in Ireland all year round. The wind and rain started with a real vengeance around three or half three. I pulled me head down between my shoulders and went into screen saver mode.
getting to Malin started to look like an impossible dream and I looked at different plans. The shitty weather wasn't helping my frame of mind and at around 5 in the evening, a few miles from my goal, i decided to knock the whole fucking thing on the head and go home. I was just fed up with it all. The weather, my job, the bike, the weather, that tree, those sheep, the weather, etc...
But it was too fucking dangerous to go on. The wind must have been gale force something or other as at one point, just coming into the little village of Mallin, where the road was above the surrounding land, and the surrounding land was above the sea with nothing between me and it, I was blown across the road into the path of a lorry. The tarmac was shinny, the road a strange convex shape and my arse hole like a rabbits nose. I managed to get out of the way but I honestly thought that I had met my rather grizzly end, embedded in the grill of a twenty year old Hino, pulling cattle for the slaughter house.
I scouted around a bit and followed the signs for a B&B that I found.

The place was big but looked deserted. It was properly horrible outside now. it had grown dark and was raining and blowing like an absolute cunt. eventually the door was opened by a butch looking older woman who took a good look at my trembling, dripping 15 stone and beckoned me in.



There were two women running the place and I was convinced that i was in for some great lesbo action, where they would sneak into my room and seeing my manly frame decide that the best thing to do would be to take turns on me as I cured them from the terrible condition of not wanting a good cocking.
They turned out to be two sisters. And so I was convinced that i was in for some great sister tag team action where they would sneak into my room...etc. Maybe I should stop watching youjizz as a hobby?

Anyway, I got in, got me stuff together and after a power nap I went off for a spin in to Malin to get a bit of grub. A rather nice meal was had and I decided to break out my guilty secret. I had bought a pouch of Golden Virginia and some Rizla and rolled a couple of nice fat ones and went back to the house and sat out back where it was sheltered, and looked at me bike and had a smoke and a cuppa and felt that glow of satisfaction that you get when you see your bike outside somewhere other than your own house.


The next morning I remained unmolested. despite leaving my door open and a apir of my steaming knickers hanging on the doorhandle. Oh well, their loss..

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Best ride report ever.

Subscribed!

Cheers Mac.

The house of Lesbos the next morning....

The scene of frenzied lesbo fantasy fueled masturbation..


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I got on the road after a slap up fry and headed north for Malin Head. It was a fresh morning but no gales and the sky looked like it was going to be dry. There was actually blue sky at some points.
I got up to Malin and got a few pics.

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Then I set off for Mizen head.

An hour later, the wind ahd returned, followed by the rain that had hot on it's heels my foul mood. I suppose the fact that I was so near home I felt it's pull more strongly than if I was further away. this fucked me off. Usually I cannot fucking wait to get a bit of a road trip going. I don't want to turn this thread into a moan about poor old me but my frame of mind was a contributing factor in how i was acting.

I went past home for about 30 miles, into a town called Sligo. I stopped for a bite to eat and phoned home. I decided to shoot the whole thing in the head and call off the trip.

I turned around and was home in an hour. The wind and rain blew me the whole way and it was with a surprisingly light step that I went into the house and never looked at the bike for the rest of the week.

That was Wednesday afternoon. The bad weather and my mood stayed black for the rest of the week.
To try to get myself out of the low I was in, We booked a weekend away in a nearby hotel. My Mrs was putting up with a lot of shit, what with me mopping around and sighing a lot. We packed the car and fecked off for a rather splendid few days in Donegal.
A few sessions in the sauna and jacuzzi and pool over the week end helped restore my faith in life.
we went out for a couple of spins. Glenviegh national park was pretty good. We walked around the grounds, ate tea and sticky buns and took the tour of the house. It was all rather splendid to be with Rosie. even the weather played ball for awhile.

The gardens at Glenviegh are rather nice.

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I made a new friend

We headed for home on Sunday evening. I still had a full week off and with Rosie's prompting I repacked the boxes for a week away. I ditched the bag across the back, there was no way I was going to attempt to camp. This lightened the whole thing considerably.
it was half eleven or so when I pushed off, setting course for Galway.

The weather wasn't too bad. A bit of rain and the wind though gusty was no way near the gales that had threatened to end my life the week before.

The route would be a more straightforward one, leaving out the coasts of Donegal, Mayo and Clare as they were routes I could tread on a good long day out from my house. I was intent on getting down to Kerry because I rarely got as far as there on normal spins.

I didn't stop for pics or anything really until I had bypassed Galway and headed south for Limerick. At the last moment I veered off west, missing that most hated of city's and ended up in a little place called Killermare where a short ferry ride would have me deposited in Kerry.
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From the ferry I motored down to the rather pleasant port of Dingle, where I was to make friends with a table of Americans and one particular beauty called Lisa

I always enjoy your reports mate, looking forward to the rest of it.

I had the same thing happen to me last June on my attempt at riding up to the Yukon and Alaska . I was looking forward to the trip for a long time (the planning is half the fun) . Didn't follow my game plan and rode further than I should have and by the night of my first day my body was bitching . Add in the weather turning to rain / snow so no pictures and my head fell out of it . We have a little bit of rain around Seattle , but something really pissed me off about taking 2 pictures on the first day in British Columbia . So I headed back home the next day , 2 13 hour days in the saddle . Went to back up plan and went on local rides and then did a nice little 500 mile ride to explore some new to me roads . At least I wasn't at work or working around the house . Hell , it;s all good ! Carry on !

On the way into Dingle, the road climbs, twists and turns over some mountains. Not that I could see much as the rain had came on again and the cloud level was at axle height. I eventually got to dingle and secured a room in the first B&B I saw. It was within walking distance of the main drag so at least I could leave the bike and get me legs stretched.

I left the camera in the room as I was not in the mood to look like a tourist. Not that I should have worried. The entire population seemed to be made up of tourists. All wandering around reading menus.

I got a seat in a snug at the back of a pub and ordered me din dins. I was just sat there enjoying the silence when two waitresses started to push tables together beside me. I heard them mention something about a table of 8. Fucking great, that's all I need.

A couple of Asian Americans( that's a real term isn't it?) came down and smiled and said Hi and took their places at the table. They were followed by a mixed bunch of people. There were a few older couples and a couple of grey haired brothers, one of whom I would find out raced Motocross back in The States.

And then there was Lisa. Lisa was about 30 or so, Italian American and from Manhattan.

She was loud but not in an annoying way. She just talked to everybody as if she knew them all her life and she was obviously the driving force behind the group. There was some confusion about seating around the table but it all ended up with our tables pushed together and Lisa installed beside me.

If I wasn't the gentleman I am, I would have been in like Flynn. But I am , so I wasn't. She was a very touchy feely kind of girl. Long dark hair, big brown eyes and a razor sharp wit. I think because I had mentioned I was married and that I wasn't actually hitting on her she relaxed and just chatted and chatted and chatted. And I fell in love.

Anyway, they were staying in the pub and were having a drink later on. Lisa said I should stay and have a Guinness with them. I declined. I wasn't a drinking man and had a date with a tissue back at the B&B.

I bade them farewell, Gave Lisa a cheeky wink and then went for a wee walk around the Harbour.

That night, back in the room, I stayed up most of the night smoking roll ups out the window and listening to The Porcupine Tree turned up to 11. It was about 3 in the morning when I eventually got to sleep and 8.30 when the alarm went off.


There was a couple in the room next door and he was giving her an awful Sawing at one point. As I sat in the breakfast room I looked around at my fellow guests. Who was the sex donkey? There were a couiple of family groups, all American. Maybe they were close. Then Suspects numbers 1 and 2 entered the room.

He was at least 6' 6 and she was a small blond. Early 20's I would have thought. He wasn't just tall, he was huge all over. ANd she wasn't. Either his cock wasn't in proportion to the rest of him or she had a fanny like a wind sock.

Anyway, I got me shit together and the bike ready and I headed off for a look see. The weatherr was actually pleasant. I went over the Connor Pass and got a few shnaps.

I made use of a passing Merican and got her to take this. I was hopeing to look rugged and heroic. But let's face it, I look like a fucking mental patient.






The morning blew into quite a nice day and I found that without thinking about it, I was a ctually starting to unwind. Unlike the road. whilst I was here, I decided to stick as closely to the coast a s possible.

This lead down some interesting wee roads. The wind was a bit blowy but seeing as my bollocks were nearly in the sea this was all to be expected.

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I managed to by pass the tourist honey pot of Kilarney and wobble around towards Valencia Island and Bray Head.

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Knowing the roads (for a change) and enjoying the witty dialogue. You're in my stompin grounds...

U were at the connor pass and could see the sea... thats a plus.... lol


You may continue...

Tummy rumbling I stopped for a rather splendid traditional Irish Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich with Tomato relish and pepper salad. All very civilised I thought as I rolled another ciggy outside in the sun and picked me teeth with a match.


On I went, around the roads, with the view of getting me little head down to Bantry for the night.

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had the GPS on, just to give me rough idea of arrival time. I eventually came off the goat tracks I had been on most of the day and started onto a main road. it felt crazy to be speeding along at 60 and 70 after spending so long at less than half that speed.

I had been thinking about the perfect bike for slow travel around Ireland and I am convinced a new Enfield Bullet would be ideal. Either that or a sorted R75/5 BM.

Anyway, I was nearing Bantry when the GPS threw me a left turn up an old road. Is topped and looked up it, suspecting that it was a Garmin curve ball. You know the one when you are nearly there and it has a brain fart and sends you on a complete wild goose chase?
I considered ignoring it for 20 seconds and then thought what the fuck, I have all the time in the world. And so I followed the new directions.


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I'm so glad I did. The road was everything you would expect of a mountain road in the arse end of Ireland. I was following signs for 'Priest's Leap'. Always a good sign, as it were.

When I came to the top of the mountain I just stood and stared for ages. I very nearly didn't take photos because there was no way I could convey the sheer scale of the scene spread out in front of me. I think I communed with God as I stood there.

I'm not sure but I'm almost certain my Father's spirit came and stood at my shoulder for a minute or two. We didn't speak.
I marked the place on the GPS.

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I was disapointed when I came down the track and onto the Bantry road proper. I was only a few miles from the large town and I soon found a B&B on the outskirts of the town.

The owner was a fellow GS owner and as with most locals could talk at 1000 miles an hour in a glorious accent. He gave me a hand with the boxes thankfully as I was fed up carting the cunting things up and down stairs and after he left I was had a special shower prior to a power nap and then hopefully a wee spin in to get din dins.

I took the bike out later that evening. I was dressed in civvies so I took it east into town. I was headed for a wee pub that the B&B bod had recommended. To tell the truth I would have as well gone to the fast food joint next door. The meal was dried out and I was sat opposite the ugliest woman I have seen in a long time. Honestly, She would have made a brutal man.
Bantry is made up of a large square in the middle, with a raised pedestrian plaza, for want of a better word. I went to the Supermarket and bought a tea to go and sat on a bench and smoked a fag and drank me tea and generally chilled the fuck out.

There was definitely a holiday atmosphere down in this part of the world. Plenty of tourists still about this late in the season. I wonder what Americans think of this place. Everything so old and small and, well, 'Irish'.

After half an hour or so, I packed meself off back to the B&B and got my head down.
Tomorrow I wanted to get down to Mizen Head.
It was windy the next morning but I had become accustomed to it by now. It seemed to be my constant companion on this trip. And now I was going to go to the most Southerly point of Ireland I didn't hold out much hope of things getting calmer.

As before, I headed off on the coast roads. I traveled west from Bantry towards Sheep's Head. A rocky peninsula surrounded by churning seas. I was strangely sheltered this side of the land and stopped for many pictures and general ball scratches whilst gawping around me.


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I finally got to Sheep's Head and the little coffee shop that is perched precariously on the narrow spit of rock. The wind here was pretty fucking strong and I was glad to be in the relative warmth of the cafe.

The lady there gave me a heruge slice of rhubarb tart and a sloshing mug of tea. I got chatting to her and she was telling m,e that in the winter storms here it's completely mad. She's open year round now that the new building is up. She had used a Portacabin for ten years and she pointed to the rocks outside where I could see the ends of an old chain, huge and rusty that was cemented into the rock. There were several of these used to tie the Cabin down in winter. One particular storm she need three of the largest tractors from surrounding farms to tie the cabin to and even then it was lifting from it's base.

A fucking mental place.

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She even gave me a sticker because and I quote, 'I know you bikers like stickers'. It simply says @ I walked the Sheep's head Way'. Which I didn't. I stuck it to one of the boxes with a mind to get a Sharpie pen and add 'Never' to it.
Then it was time to get on and head around the other side of the rock and go on towards Mizen.

There is a visitors center there and the ubiquitous tea shop. I discarded everything I could on the bike and had a cuppa and then bought a ticket to go down to the light house. The last time I was here I didn't bother but I thought fuck it, how bad a walk can it be?

Honest to fuck, the photos don't give any indication of the wind at this point.

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There were several ramps down and over the bridge onto the rock at the end. The old station was open and you could mooch about it. All very impressive really. There isn't much there as light houses go. The nearest proper light house is Fastnet, I think. This station is a light beacon and fog station. Probably.

The buildings hung on the edge of the cliff and vertigo was my constant companion. Along with the wind. Fuck me, it was blowing hard. The sea below was crashing over the rocks and the gales making it hard to stand still. At one point whilst standing on a high viewing platform I though it was going to blow the camera out of my hand.

How roofs stay where they are put is beyond me.
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And then came the walk back to the visitors center

Even though the wind would go through you for a short cut, it was still quite warm. And so it was time to work my way back to the visitors center.



And 20 minutes later.....


Fuck me, I'm unfit.

To be truthful, my general lack of fitness is only half the story. Lets get things into context.
Starting at my pale and puckered skin I was wearing
A pair of steaming shreddies and a T-Shirt.
A pair of Gortex wind stopper long johns.
a long sleeved Gortex wind stopper shirt.
A long sleeved heavy cotton shirt.
An Alpine star vest type back protector.
A BMW Rallye jacket with Gortex liner.( all vents and zips wide open.)
A pair of Hein Gericke, Journey trousers.
A pair of Barbour welly socks.
A pair of Alpine star Tech 3 boots.

And then on top of this I had my kriega R35 on half full of junk.

By the time I got to the top, I thought I was going to be sick. Seriously. A set of birthing stirrups was needed as I knew i was about to have kittens. There was that much sweat sloshing around down my back and behind my bag I thought I had actually shit myself.
I eventually dragged my sorry self back to the Tea Shop where a large pot of tea and a strip off cooled things down a bit. My face was still bright red and I was getting some strange looks from the surrounding 'mericans.

After awhile i considered myself able to move again and went out to the bike on two wobbly legs and got ready to leave

I have snickered, giggled, and Bahahahaha'd myself to tears reading this

What fantastic pictures, too!

Totally appreciated this RR, cheers

Thanks fella. Glad you are enjoying it.

Come on Frey Bentos,

I want more!!! Love It!!

Cheers, John

As I swung my sweaty bollocks over the saddle and settled in to my home from home I was in a bit of a conundrum. Where to now? I had fulfilled what I set out to do.
I looked at the map in my tank bag and decided to keep on hugging the coast.
I saw the name Baltimore on the south coast and it seemed like a likely spot for a young man to head down to of a blowy Wednesday afternoon.

With the wind thankfully on my back I cruised along admiring the countryside and was soon nearing Baltimore.

Brief history lesson what I done learned off of that fit bird on the telly programme Coast. During the 1600's Baltimore was subject to a pirate raid one night and a large percentage of the population were abducted by slave traders and spent the rest of their lives living and working as slaves on the Ivory Coast. But they were all English Planters, so fuck 'em.

Anyways, The roads were very narrow and bumpy and squirreled their way past some tidal inlets. I spied a nice looking B&B a half mile or so from the village and set up camp in what was most probably the most picturesque guest house I have ever seen.

It was situated above the wee road, looking over a small bay and beyond that the expanse of Roaring water Bay. The view included a ruined chapel, a few old houses and a ship wreck.






Whilst I was outside the B&B a CIE coach pulled up and an old couple got off with a load of suitcases. They came up the drive and the landlady, who was out talking to me welcomed them. They were an American couple touring about. I thought it must be an awful handicap to your holiday having to rely on public transport in Ireland for your holiday but they seemed happy enough.

I was left to my own devices. As usual, as I was out having a shmoke, looking out over the pleasant scene I got to talking to the old Golden Labrador of th house. A big, limping. pleasant chap. It seemed that all he wanted was a rough ear scratch and some undivided attention for ten minutes. we passed an amicabable few minutes in the afternoon sun and then i had to go inside. mainly to wash my hands. he was a smelly old bastard.


To say that Baltimore was quiet would be like saying the Titanic sprung a leak. It seems to be a small fishing type village. I'm sure that it the hieght of summer it's a jumping wee spot but on a late september evening there wasn't a whole lot happening. Which suited me.
I had a big feeling of being at the bottom of Ireland. I found a cafe that was open and got a rather nice fresh pizza. Scoff gobbled I took a stroll down onto the piers. There were a few diving school type things set up and sea tours. They were all closed at this time of the evening. It didn't bother me because as the years go by I seem to be more of a land Lubber.

Anywys, belly full and walk walked, I heade back to the B&B and made a cup of tea and me and Smelly, the wonder dog sat outside and had a smoke and looked out to sea.
I tried not think about going back to work next week. Smelly seemed to be thinking about licking his arsehole. Which he did. A lot.

Tomorrow was Thursday and I wanted, needed to be home by Friday evening, so basically tomorrow I would be turning for home and slowly making my back.

Thursday dawned bright and warm. It was an absolute novelty not to have a fucking gale blowing me about.

Over breakfast I got chatting to the Bus couple. They were from Baltimore America and on a whim, with a week and a half off work they decided to grab a cheap flight and come over. They were staying in a hotel in Dublin and this was a one day excursion over to see Baltimore Ireland.

When I got my bags packed and bowels empty I took a wee spin down to the village to see it in daylight. Seems lovely. I will definitely have to come back this way.

I realised that yesterday I had wanted to get a wee souvenir from Mizen Head visitors center to prove I was there. In all my sweaty warmth I forgot to get something. SO I decided to head back that way, grab something small and then start to make my way back to Galway or somewhere near.

The day was lovely and I felt great.




It didn't take long to get there and with little note book and matching pen safely stowed in back pack I headed North.

I didn't think that I could waste a full day completely retracing my steps from the previous days but given the time it would have been worth it. So I decided that for the first half of the gay I would stick to main roads and try to get up the country as far as I could.

Man, was I glad I did.

Fate found me on the N71 to Killarney. Fuck me sideways on a buckrake but this is some road.

I can't remember being on this road ever before. It's the nearest thing to an Alpine road that I can think of. There's climbs, curves, views and just general awesomeness. It travels through the Killarney National Park and is probably the best road in Ireland, in my humble opinion.

I took my time on it and stopped for a few pics and smokes and general bathing in the whole trip Maaaaan.




I had stopped that many times during the day that I found myself well short of my goal of Galway as 5 in the evening came around.

I looked at the map and decided that I would make my way to a place called Lisdoonvarna. me and Rosie had been down a couple of times. it's a nice enough place and is in the heartland of The Burren. A bleak limestone area that is another national park. A lot of Father Ted was filmed around here because it's so fucking desolate.

Lisdoonvarna is semi famous in Ireland for some of the festivals that took place in it in the past. And sure as God made little green apples, there was one on this evening.