I just left big wet Ireland. It really kicked my butt and gave me an entirely new and profound appreciation for being dry. The gusting wind seemed to never end and the pelting rain always followed closely behind. Was blown off the bike and crash landed on my feet the last day here. Well I have nine minutes left on the library computer and need to give this a bit more thought. But.. Started off in Dublin with some great hosts Brian and his wife Mary. It was a nice city to explore. Walked down the street with complete strangers engaged in conversation. Where else does that happen?
So rode from there across to the West coast. Wild camped in puddles and anywhere else at the last minute before the storms set in. Golf courses, old ruins, Westport House lawn, beachs, cliffs. The coast had moments of great beauty and I'll have to return someday.
Stroke of good fortune on one particular night when the local butcher invited me to stay with his family, saving me from setting up camp in the middle of a cricket field during a small hurrican. Last night slept in the ferry terimal diner, pitched the tent inside there and everything. It was 80 mph winds that cancelled my ferry to Scotland last night.
Month three here I come. Scotland, the land of the biting insect am told. The glass is half empty.
