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| Lakes of Killarney There's a road around that a bike wants us to ride |
I
don’t mind telling you this. I’m screwed up. As evidence I offer you that this
is our fourth morning home from Ireland and I rolled out of bed at four this
morning to happily start pounding out this post fifteen minutes later. Each
morning has gotten progressively later for my wake up; 2:30 a.m. the first
morning, then three, and so on. However, I plan to make early mornings my
regular routine again as I write more during the day having gotten the early
start before our little corner of the world stirs.
The
four of us, my son Daniel and his wife Ani and Cindy and I, flew out of LAX to
Dublin and back. We used a pair of rental cars while there and took a couple of
public transport options for short excursions. For my motorcyclist readers, my
terrestrial transportation was always seasoned by ‘what if I rode?’ More on each to follow.
The
flights were an interesting mix. The most comfortable seat was on Aer Lingus
between Dublin and Amsterdam, the shortest hop at 465mi./748km for 1hr. 35 min.
The worst/tightest seat? Why of course, it was on the biggest plane I’ve been
in and for the longest flight – The KLM Boeing 747-400 from Amsterdam to LAX at
5560mi./8950km for 10 hr. 55 min. On the plus side of the 747 seats; exit row
behind first class and we could stand up and stretch before wedging ourselves
back in, great window seats to see Iceland, Greenland, and northern Canada, and
we were first off the plane, but not before I had to set a screen on the first
class passengers.
It
was over 12,000 air miles in 24 hours of flying (plus an extra two hour
in-plane delay in ATL) and seven days of driving and I ended up in the same
location but not the same place. Ireland will do that to you.
We
flew all the way to Dublin for my first passport stamp only to have Dooley Car
Rentals put us in a pair of Ford Mondeos, aka the Ford Fusion. Excellent cars
to drive even if they did put the steering wheel on the wrong side. For some
reason this made me want to drive on the left side of the road which seemed
contagious as everyone else was doing it. To be honest I never got truly
comfortable with this arrangement with the exception of the motorways. In
particular, the tight left hand maneuvers were tough.
In
some respects I found Ireland to be like any other place I’ve been, the locals
take to the roads as though there were no other people using the tarmac with
them. This was okay as long as there was a line down the middle of the road and
no sheep to avoid. It seemed that once the lane marker was gone the hedges and
stone walls immediately grew up next to the road and there was no shoulder.
Couldn’t see around many of the bends and I slowed way down though not quite
slow enough for Cindy in the passenger seat who had hedges whipping by tapping
the window and rock walls threatening her physical well-being. This made for
some fun tailgating sessions. We survived it. We didn’t enjoy the drive but our
pullover stops were all wonderful; lovely really, to use an Irish turn of
phrase.
You
can put a biker in a cage but you can’t take the biker out of the driver. I
considered every road driven, each town traversed, and the changing vistas that
went unseen in our car from a rider’s perspective. While the Ford Mondeo
offered a good field of vision for driving it sucked for panoramic viewing. Add
to that my need to lock in on the road and concentrate on the left hand driving
experience and I missed most of the scenery. Cindy had barely more of an opportunity
than I at viewing from her passenger seat. We needed fewer miles and more stops.
Biking has spoiled me for scenic driving.
I
put a motorcycle tour of Ireland on my bucket list even with the near daily
rains. Most of the tight country roads with their hedges and rock walls would
be no problem on a bike with more lane room and sitting high enough to see over
them and out to the countryside. With the exception of two one-lane tracks, and
them only briefly, we had excellent road surface to drive on, nothing crappy
like L.A.’s roads.
The
island is a ring of coastal
mountains surrounding low plains at the
centre of the island. The highest of these is Carrauntoohil (Irish: Corrán Tuathail) in County Kerry, which
rises to 1,038 m (3,406 ft) above sea level. (yes, those links
will work) The low plains are crisscrossed with two-lane roadways curving this
way and that with the contours for the plain. Every town has an ancient Abby,
castle, and/or artifact. The valleys are dotted with them; you’ll go around a
corner and find a 1200 year old ruin, easily accessible and without having been
vandalized.
The mountain roads
are twisties, pure and simple. I imagined riding these roads with a biker’s
connection to the road and the countryside, green on a 360o panorama,
horizon to horizon, checkered with wall and hedge round each field, old forests
on the mountains, and roads crossing streams on bridges originally built a
thousand years before.
I had one direct
contact experience with a pair of riders. While Cindy and I were on our personal
walking tour of ancient sites in Kenmare I spotted a Kawasaki with a wide
sidecar parked in a handicap spot, complete with handicap card in the covered
sidecar. We had found the Kenmare Stone Circle which was placed during the
Bronze Age, 2,200 – 500BC and as we strolled around the circle I saw a couple
approach from the access walkway, a man dressed in motorcycle gear pushing a
woman dressed for the ride as well. I approached them, offered to take their
picture at the site, and confirmed that they were the sidecar couple, a German
pair having ferried from the mainland to England and then to Ireland. I thought
of how amazing it would be to spend a month or two biking Europe. A motorcycle
GPS is mandatory, B&B layovers highly recommended.
I’d start my
motorcycle tour planning at Celtic Rider:
I haven’t been able
to find V-twin rentals other than hogs. I could live with riding BMW on tour.
And finally we
turned in our Fords and bussed it into Dublin for our last dinner in what became
our beloved Ireland. Cindy and I experienced three bus drivers that last night,
each of them a jewel on the Emerald Isle. In an occupation that breeds
curmudgeons these three men were refreshing. One gave us directions for once we
were in town, the second gave us a free ride to the correct bus, and the last gave us
more than fair warning for our required stop. And they were each happy to do it all.
Keep
the iron side up, dream big without regret, travel well and soak it in. Peace
jerry
Trip
dates 6/12 through 6/21/2016
For
a retro bike tour:
http://www.retroventuresireland.com/escorted-motorcycle-tours-in-ireland
