Day 64

December 6, 2021:

I woke just before 9 am, and came downstairs for breakfast. I had ordered the traditional full Irish breakfast, consisting of rashers, sausage, black pudding, tomato, and an egg served with soda bread and toast. Mary is a baker, and the soda bread was fresh. I saw a sign that said she offered baking classes. The entryway had been lined with jars of jams and other sweet preserves. She prepares them to sell to locals, and each year, she sells out. She thought I would mind, but I didn't view it as clutter at all. If anything, I'm sad I forgot to ask to try some. Mary also served a homemade granola + warm fruit preserve yogurt that was delicious. What a treat! I also had black tea with milk and sugar with breakfast.

After I ate, Mary came in to talk about the storm. She said she was worried about me. Her husband Luke said this storm was gearing up to be the worst they'd have had in years. I had been paying attention. The forecasts looked dire. It read 95 kts upon landfall, and that wasn't weather to be outside for. It looked like the storm would arrive at 5 or 6 am tomorrow morning, so I wouldn't want to camp tonight, even though the storm would rage for much of tomorrow. Mary offered to keep the room for me for the next few days, and that she'd lower the rate of the room to 50 Euro, as well as throw in dinner with that price for the next few nights too. Still steep. But it was an exceptionally nice B&B, and these were exceptionally nice people. Plus, dinner and breakfast would save me 10-20 euro each day, so it wasn't terribly unreasonable. I figured under that plan, I'd spend today riding Loop Head, tomorrow sitting out the storm, and the next day I would leave. I considered for a minute, then asked if she would be willing to teach me how she made her soda bread. She agreed, happily, and I accepted her offer.

She wanted me to know she wasn't just trying to make a cash grab, and that she really just wanted me to be safe, thinking of her son. I nodded. I gave her space to talk. We talked for a while (and yesterday too, when I had come in) about wild camping, about covid restrictions, about politics in the US, about some of her son David's travels. He came home during Covid, and they had a great time together. It had been a pleasure having him home. While the world suffered, they had rejoiced.

She mentioned one of her son's trips to eastern Ireland. It was still lockdown, and he and his friends weren't supposed to be there. But they were wild camping, and weren't hurting the general population. They foraged when they could, and when they had to go to the grocery store, they'd only send one member of the group in to buy food for everyone. They traveled discretely, but would often cross private farms. She mentioned one farmer had gotten terribly mad at them for doing so. They explained that their parents were farmers, so they knew not to damage rock walls, or open gates, or bother the livestock. The farmer was still enraged, and called the Garda. The boys explained what they were doing rationally, said they hadn't in any way threatened the farmer, and gave their true names and addresses. The Garda demeanor changed when they heard what was up. The farmer swung by with his 80-year old mother, driving past. He screamed 'that's them! that's them!' He was enraged not just that they had trespassed his land, but also that they were traveling so recklessly in the age of covid, given that his mother had had to isolate herself for the last eight months - or whatever it had been. She was older, and couldn't afford to get sick. The Garda told him he had to leave, and that they would take care of it. They explained to the boys that since the farmer had sent in an official complaint, they would be fined. They collected their information, but no fines were ultimately sent. Mary theorized that the papers were conveniently 'lost,' since the Garda realized her son wasn't hurting anyone. Her son David also has a girlfriend, and they live in Canada together, in Vancouver. I forget a lot of that bit of the conversation.

At some point, I gathered myself, and went to leave. I brought in a lot of my bags. There was no need to bring my tent or sleeping bag with me out to Loop Head, though I would still need water, so bringing the two front bags made sense for balance. I followed the coast road out to Kilbaha, then out to Loop Head. Kilbaha looks like it would be a nice town in the summer. The restaurants there were closed, and the beach looked cold, but this was the off-season after all. It was incredibly windy. I kept staring out to the west, into the fog that lay offshore, wondering just where the highstorm was that I wasn't seeing yet. I wondered how shipping would fare, and would make sure to check international shipping maps later. It was 25 gusting 40 roughly, which is still exceedingly windy.

I battled it out to the point, where a lighthouse stood atop the cliffs. A van pulled out of the lighthouse and parked on the gravel lot. I could sense the driver watching me. I suppose he wanted to make sure I didn't go into the lighthouse compound. Perhaps, like in the south, the lighthouse was privately owned? I went up to the gate. No. Normally, it looks like tickets were sold to go up onto the lighthouse and explore the grounds. But they were closed for renovations now, and I wouldn't want to walk around up there now in this wind anyway.

I turned to go. The stiff wind pushed my bike along the road, faster and faster. I didn't need to pedal. It even pushed me up a hill. I had difficulty staying on the road. The buffeting wind would occasionally change direction, making it difficult to predict and counteract. Even when I did predict where the gust came from, it nearly pushed me off the road several times. When I did start pedaling, my first idea was to see how fast I could go. I soon realized this was foolish though, realizing I needed to go relatively slow and focus on staying safe.

I pedaled back to Kilbaha, then towards Cross. I saw a sign for The Bridges of Ross, and figured I'd double back, even if that did force me to cycle another 2 km upwind. I had all day, after all, and this would be a relatively short cycle of just 30-40 km in a big loop around Carrigaholt. It was well worth the effort. The coastal road took me through the village of Ross, to the north shore of the peninsula. Massive waves slammed against the rocks here, looking some 20' high. If this was what they looked like now, how would that compare to when Storm Barra hit tomorrow?! The wind was freakish.

I parked my bike, and walked along the cliffs. I didn't get close to the edge at all. I knew that a sudden gust of wind could easily knock me off my feet. I recalled the statistic that half of all people who drown don't expect to end up in or even near the water. Being cautious would help prevent almost certain death in those waves if I fell. The 'bridges' were in fact sea arches. There used to be three, and the sign there showed an old photograph with a group of people standing atop one of the arches. Only one bridge remains standing now, but in the future there may be more as the waves continue to shape the coastline. I didn't dare stand atop the one remaining arch. It was narrow, and doing so would have been exceptionally risky. It crossed my risk/reward threshold. Instead, I took photos and video.

I called Mama from The Bridges of Ross. She was stupefied by how much wind there was. "Still not regretting your decision to go to Ireland in the winter?" And I really wasn't. I was having the time of my life. It started hailing a bit again, the ice hitting my face like knives. I hung up and adjusted my goggles, ensuring they were snug. I pulled my buff up over my exposed nose. I followed the road back through Ross and up the hill to Cross.

There, I stopped in a tiny general store and bought a wafer candy that was a bit like a kit kat, but more caramely, as well as a holiday fruit loaf and some cheese. I cycled back down to Carrigaholt, stopping briefly at the castle. The trail up to it was closed, so I couldn't get a very close look. Then I went back to the B&B, parking my bike outside again.

Luke advised I find a safer place for it, either in the shed or in a rather enclosed area of the yard, up against three walls of the house. I chose the latter. I pulled the rest of my things inside, then went upstairs to relax. Mary later convinced me to just bring the bike inside. Not that I needed much convincing, I just didn't want the bike to make too much of a mess. At some point, I came back downstairs with the computer and went to the sitting room to chill on the couch. I had the whole B&B side of the house to myself. There was also a games room with a billiards table, but I didn't have anyone to play with.

Later on in the evening, Mary served lamb stew for dinner. I had a chance to talk with Luke about sea navigation and my experiences as a student pilot. Unfortunately, we couldn't talk for long, since they had a call to attend to. It was a community organization. Something related to tourism on the Loop Head peninsula.