Day 84

December 26, 2021:

I woke up pretty early to the sound of dripping. The trees were still wet from the rain that had continued to fall through much of the night, and big drops of water made wet splatting sounds on my tent and the pine needles nearby. I got up, grudgingly putting on my very much still wet clothing, and began to pack up. I got my flat tire off the bike and got the tools I needed to fix it. I patched it, then put it back on. While I was working, a woman passed on the path and saw me with my tent in the copse of trees. “Are you alright?” “Yeah, just packing up now.” “Do you want some food?” She held out a bag. “I’m alright.” “No really…” “Did you bring this just for me?” “Yes. I’m from the farm just up the road. You asked to stay last night. I felt bad, so I wanted to bring you something.” “That’s really kind of you. Alright, I’ll have some.” She showed me the contents of the bag. “I brought a Christmas cracker. I don’t suppose you got to pull one last night, did you?” “No. But what are these? I’m not used to them in the US.” “Well, pull on it.” She took her side, and I took mine. It opened with a little pop, and a card came out. It had some nice words, and a little yellow hat. I put it on for fun, and it was like a halo on my head. It was really nice of her to come by, but it was still a depressing moment. Nevertheless, I focused not on how cheesy the hat and card were, but on how thoughtful she was to bring them to me. “What’s your name?” “Rose. And yours?” “Benjamin. Well, Beej for short.” “Alright, Beej. Would you like some orange juice?” She poured me a cup. I drank up. She also had a chocolate bar and some sad cheese. (Her words: ‘sad cheese.’) I laughed, “I’m not that desperate.” She smiled. With that sort of advertising, what did she expect? And yet, in hindsight, I probably should have accepted the sad cheese. She asked about my bike, and I said I’d just fixed it. When I was done with the chocolate, she took the wrappers and left. I thanked her for bringing me a little happiness to start my day. As much as didn’t want to admit it, she made a real difference. It would have been a rather gloomy ride off of Achill without her help. I remember the farmhouse. I’ll have to send them a postcard.

I finished packing, then got on my way back to Mallaranny. Hopefully the gas station there would be open and I’d be able to get lunch. I rode back along the path that I now knew so well, back over the weird arch bridge, and past my old campsite along the Greenway on Achill Beg. Along the way, I considered my plan. I had wanted to go north to see Wild Nephin Ballycroy National Park, but from what Owen had told me at Gilty’s pub yesterday, there’s just nothing up there. It’s like Achill Island, but somehow even less populated. Given my current state, it’d be a bad idea to continue north so unprepared. I needed clean, dry clothing. I would need more food, and ideally a fresh stock of freeze-dried meals and a fuel canister as back-up. All bottles would need to be filled with fresh water. My phone and power bank would need to be fully charged. And preferably, I’d get a chance to dry out my tent and sleeping bag or make better plans at a hotel or B&B north of Mallaranny were I to continue. Frankly, I’d prefer to stay at a B&B tonight to recuperate. The cheapest B&B I knew of was back in Westport where I had left my shaving razor, and going all the way back would give me a chance to pick it up. So my plan would be to ride all the way back there, to civilization.

In Mallaranny, the gas station was open, and I was able to refill my bottles and grab some food. The deli wasn’t open, but I still got a few prepacked pastries. The bar next door had an outlet where I could charge my phone and power bank. It had a small coal fire, and I added a few briquettes to get it going again. Outside, my tire was flat again, the patch having failed, so I took it off and tried again. As I put the tire back on, I heard a hissing sound and knew immediately with a sinking feeling in my gut that the tire had again failed. I really need better tire levers. The plastic ones I’m working with bend too far now, making the task of removing the tire very difficult. This time, instead of bothering with another patch, I just replaced the entire inner tube. I chucked the old one, even though it now had five patches on it. I’ve probably ridden on that inner tube since Kinsale. Or heck, maybe PA. After fitting the new inner tube, I put the tire back on as well as all my bags. Inside, I checked my phone, and checked the map. I was already feeling so much better. My pants were drying off, and I now had more food and fresh water. That was already checking a number of boxes. Would it really hurt to go north to Wild Nephin? The photos of Wild Nephin weren’t too persuasive. A lot of Ireland’s National Parks have been rather disappointing. Would it really be worth it? I was deeply conflicted. But common sense prevailed. I’d be much more comfortable in a hotel tonight, and I did want to use the opportunity to pick up my razor. So, despite some misgivings, I doubled back and continued on my way to Westport.

I called the Quays B&B I had stayed at before in Westport. Unfortunately, they were fully booked, but would happily give my razor back if I dropped by. On the way back, the high point of my day to that point was at a small phone booth that had been converted into a mini library. Inside was a bowl of candy, and I took some. I saw an interesting book inside called A US Spy in Ireland, by Martin S. Quigley. It looked interesting. I might have to read that when I get back from my trip. I didn’t take it with me because I’m sure it’d get wet and ruined if I did. I also didn’t have anything to replace it with. When I turned to leave, I looked down and saw that I had gotten another flat tire on the same wheel. There must be a protrusion or something inside my wheel that I had missed before. I decided to just push on. It was a relatively slow leak, so I could afford to pump it up and cycle for a few km, then pump it up again as needed. I got the rest of the way to Westport this way. I called around for B&Bs. The cheapest place I found was in downtown Westport above a coffee shop.

I actually missed downtown Westport when I passed through town before. I passed a church, a few boulevards, and a central fountain. The coffee shop was located on a roundabout called ‘the Octagon’ in the center of town. I walked in, and waited several minutes in line. The employees of the coffee shop said to just book through booking.com. Instead, I called the guy back, since the price he had quoted to me before was lower than the prices found online. He said to just have the coffee shop bill me 50 Euro, and that I could get in upstairs with a code he gave me. Unfortunately, their card reader was down, so I had to pay cash. Upstairs, the room was comfortable. The coffee shop employees told me I could stow my bike in the back, so I walked through and was half way down a set of stairs when they corrected me. I pulled my bike back up and steered it out onto a sheltered patio, thankful that I didn’t have to go all the way down those stairs. It would have been like the second hostel in Cork and could have hurt had I messed up. The bike outside, they showed me a door that led to the patio that I could access even if the shop was closed. I thanked them, then went back through the shop to outside. A guy was there trying to get in. I knew the code to the front door, but wasn’t sure if it was the same as the room code, and he didn’t even know which room was his. I told him to call the number I had, and that the manager of the B&B would help him in. We got to talking while he waited for a reply. His name is Ruben, and he works up in Donegal, but will be moving next week back to the US. I said I needed to relax and clean up a bit upstairs, but that after I was done, we could go find food together. It’s always fun getting to meet new people. May as well.

In my room, I showered, the hot water washing the filth of the last few days from my body. I got comfortable, plugging in my phone, power bank, and computer. I checked on my Eve Online account, picking up the last set of skill points from the Winter Nexus event. I got my laundry bag ready, and headed out. I knocked on Ruben’s door, and I let him lead the way. The restaurant he had in mind was closed, and it looked like a lot of places were closed. We went back to The Octagon, and I saw a pub that was open. Their kitchen was still open, so even though it was a bit expensive, we went in and got drinks. The table was a bit wobbly, so I had a waitress bring extra coasters to stabilize it. We both ordered burgers with chips. We talked about engineering, my trip, and his plans in the US. It was a good way to spend the evening. After dinner, I didn’t bother with the laundry bag I had been carrying with me, deciding instead to deal with all that tomorrow. I could have spent the time working on my blog, but instead just watched some videos, played some Dominion online, and relaxed for the rest of the evening.