Dublin

Monday October 11, 2010
It was a busy day today, so this post is rather long.

Avalon House hostel, where I stayed for a few nights.

I woke up in time to take advantage of the provided breakfast at the hostel as usual, which was quite good as far as hostel breakfasts go.
Today I wanted to take the free walking tour of Dublin, and there was a guide meeting whoever wanted to go on the tour at 10:30 am at the hostel, to guide us to the main meeting point for the tour starting at 11:00. Unfortunately I didn't quite make it back down from my room at 10:30 am and just missed him. Yeah, I know some of you would be thinking "yeah, that'd be right, that's just typical of you Ned". But I wasn't the only one, there was a French girl called Meta who also just missed him, so we headed off to find the meeting point ourselves. On the way, we ran into another guy from Brazil who had a name similar to "John" and had also just missed meeting the tour guide at 10:30, so he joined with us too. With the help of my GPS on the iPhone, we found the meeting point no worries. There was a big bunch of people there for the tour, and there was a Spanish speaking group, and an English speaking group which included quite a lot of Canadians and Australian's, some kiwis, Europeans, etc.
Our tour guide was pretty cool, he was a home-grown Dubliner, and was a pretty funny chap, and quite informative.

My tour guide for the Sandeman's free walking tour. I think his name was Peter.

The gate of Justice at Dublin Castle.

The gate of Fortitude at Dublin Castle.

Dublin Castle, with the Record Tower in the centre, the sole surviving tower of the medieval castle dating from 1228. The Chapel Royal is to its left.

This is a shot of Dublin Castle, the round tower is the only surviving part of the original castle since the rest was destroyed by fire. It dates back to 1228, and was used as a prison during one period. The only prisoner to escape from it was a bloke from a famous family who was held hostage; he escaped through the drainage system, walked back to his home in the middle of winter and got frost-bite in his toes. This made him angry, and resulted in various conflicts, which I can't remember the details of.

Chapel Royal, Dublin Castle.

This is the Chapel Royal, beside the Records Tower in Dublin Castle. Our guide mentioned a few things about it which I can't remember, but the intricate designs and wood carvings and stained glass windows inside were impressive.

Chapel Royal, Dublin Castle.

The South side of Dublin Castle.

The lawn we are standing on here was the original location of the Black Pool, which in Irish is Dubh Linn, which of course is how Dublin got it's name. The lawn is now used as a helipad, since the buildings just to the north, the Southern part of Dublin Castle, are the state apartments, and are used by the Irish Government for official engagements. Important politicians visiting the city will stay there, so they'll fly in in the helicopter, the red carpet will be rolled out for them to walk up, and they'll stay in the State Apartments.

Dublin Castle from the South side.

As you can see from this photo, the buildings were built at different times and so there are distinct styles of architecture here, all in the one spot.

A wall built to the south of Dublin Castle.

On the other side of the lawn, there is a wall. See originally the area behind the wall was a bit of a slum, and it was rather unsightly, which would not do for a view for the State Apartments. So the government had two choices: either clean the slum up, rebuild it, make it all look nice; or hide it by building a wall in front of it. As you can see, they went with the latter option.
On the west side of the lawn is the famous Chester Beatty Library, which houses a lot of valuable and rare items such as manuscripts, miniature paintings, prints, drawings, rare books and various other artefacts. Apparently it has one of the most extensive collections of books on the Old and New Testament.
After each site we visited, our tour guide used his catch phrase "okay folks, let's wander on". Each tour guide seems to have their own catch phrase, which they say over and over.
So we wandered on as directed, and our guide told us a story about doors in the city. A lot of the buildings were built at a time with strict building codes, the buildings had to adhere to a certain kind of architecture, and the only place where they architects could really be creative was with the doors.
There have been quite a few famous writers come out of Dublin, including Oscar Wilde and Jonathan Swift. Jonathan Swift wrote Gulliver's Travels and the famous satirical piece A Modest Proposal, amongst many others. This is how our guide explained the idea behind A Modest Proposal: he said that Swift pointed out that there were three main problems in Ireland: firstly, there were lots of poor people. Secondly, these poor people were having too many babies, and couldn't afford to look after them properly. Thirdly, people needed more meat in their diet. So Swift anonymously wrote this essay in which he suggested that the impoverished Irish might ease their economic troubles by selling children as food for rich gentlemen and ladies.
There were three main reactions to this essay: The first group of people thought it was just ridiculous and should simply be ignored as nonsense. The second group realised the author was mocking the authority of the British officials and the illogical, cure-all schemes which were proposed to fix things such as population and labour issues in Ireland at the time. The third group, which luckily was only small, were like "hey, yeah, what a good idea, this guy's onto something man!"
Okay, the next site was the Christ Church Cathedral.

The Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin.

This church is popular amongst tourists because of a cat and mouse. A cleaner one day was cleaning out the organ pipes and pulled out a mouse trapped in the pipe where it must have gotten too narrow for the mouse to fit through, and so it was trapped and died. Then following the pipe back, he found a cat trapped in the larger section of the pipe, which must have been chasing the mouse and got stuck in the gradually narrowing pipe. So the cat never caught the mouse. The cat and mouse in the pipes have been preserved for tourists to look at.
Dublin has been occupied by Vikings during various times of the city's history.

A representation of a Viking house plan.

This photo shows what the typical Viking house looked like. There were twelve Vikings sleeping in the main living area, which they also cooked and ate in, then a bathroom, and a tool shed and an animal pen.
When the council were building their new head-quarters, they found a very well preserved Viking settlement buried where the building was mean to be built.

Near the council headquarters, Dublin.

Many people wanted this settlement to be preserved as it was found, for it was an amazing example of well-preserved Viking history. However, the bosses of the council building had already signed agreements for the building to be built, it went to court, and they won, so the Viking Settlement was removed or demolished, and an ugly multi-story concrete building was built in its place. Of course they all deeply regret that decision now, an amazing piece of Viking history was lost forever. Our guide reckoned this was the greatest act of public vandalism in history.
Next we saw the Arts Centre, where U2 played one of their first gigs and won a battle of the bands competition there.

The Arts Centre in Dublin where U2 played one of their first gigs.

They also met their long-standing producer there, I think our guide said. And they now own the pub across the road from the Arts Centre.
Next we went to Dublin's internationally renowned Temple Bar area, which is meant to have a very lively nightlife scene.

The Temple Bar, Dublin.

It seemed a bit touristy and over-priced. Our guide had a personal connection with the Temple Bar, because when he was younger, his Dad had decided to buy a pub, and he narrowed it down to a pub a few kilometres away (can't remember the name of it now) or the Temple Bar. This was before the Temple Bar area had been developed into the pub scene it is now, and his old man ended up buying the other pub, which does alright, but the Temple Bar would have been an absolute gold mine, they must rake in the money. Thus our guide was guiding us on a tour instead of relaxing on a tropical island in the sun with a cocktail as he may have been had his old man bought the Temple Bar instead.
Next we went to the river Liffey.

Ha'penny Bridge, Dublin.

This bridge is the Ha'penny Bridge, which was constructed to replace the seven ferries which were being used to cross the river, which had slowly fallen into poor condition. Renovations were recently carried out on the bridge by Harland and Wolff, the builders of the RMS Titanic.
The next bridge down the river is the O'Connell Bridge, which is unusual because it's meant to be the only traffic bridge in Europe that is wider than it is long.

O'Connell Bridge, Dublin.

It also has a plaque dedicated to Father Pat Noise.

The plaque on O'Connell Bridge dedicated to Father Pat Noise.

It was installed in 2004 as a hoax by a couple of pranksters. Father Pat Noise never existed, they made him up. Nobody realised it was a hoax until 2006, when a journalist brought it to the attention of the council who then began to question exactly who Father Pat Noise was, but nobody seemed to know. When the story broke, the pranksters owned up, and the council stated that the plaque would be removed since it was unauthorised. However there was a backlash from the public, they didn't want the plaque commemorating their Father Pat Noise removed, and lots of people left flowers and messages by the plaque. So in the end, the council decided to leave it there, and it's still there today.
In the photo of the Dan O'Connell Bridge above, you can also see the Spire in the centre. This is the Spire of Dublin, which is a 121 m tall stainless steel spire which was meant to be unveiled at the turn of the Millennium, but they ran a bit behind schedule and it wasn't finished until 2003. It cost €4,000,000, and was built where Nelson's Monument used to stand until someone blew it up in 1966.
Next we went to Trinity College, Ireland's oldest University.

Trinity College, Dublin.

Trinity College, Dublin.

Trinity College, Dublin.

It's meant to be the 43rd best University in the world. Earlier on, it was seen as a Protestant Ascendancy, and Catholics weren't allowed to attend the University for much of its history.

Trinity College, a building that was used in one of George Lucas' films.

George Lucas wanted to use this building for a scene in one of his movies, but University was like "nah, sorry mate, it's not really convenient for us." So George Lucas, undeterred, had computer generated images of the building created which he used in his film, and of course the film made a lot of money. The University were then like "hey, that's our building, you owe us royalties..." and George Lucas was like "nuh uh, they're computer generated images, sorry folks, no royalties for you". I bet the University people were kicking themselves for turning him down in the first place.

This photo is of a woman catching a bus, but she had to run to get there in time, and I've never seen someone so old run so fast.

Wolfe Tone (1967) by Edward Delaney, in St Stephen's Green, Dublin. This guy was a leading Irish revolutionary figure and is regarded as the father of Irish Republicanism.

"Famine" by Edward Delaney, St. Stephen's Green, Dublin.

These statues portray the hardships of the Irish Potato Famine, a really sad part of Ireland's history. Ireland's population decreased by 20-25%; one million people died, and a further one million people emigrated from the country. It was a real turning point in Ireland's history. At that time, the country was part of the UK and was governed from England. And our guide said that at the time, there were shiploads of food being exported from the country. A governments primary responsibility is to look after it's people, and the government failed spectacularly here.
The famine changed the political and cultural landscape too, the Irish knew they couldn't trust the British Government, so it became a rallying point for various nationalist movements.
To finish with, our guide told us about the 1916 Easter Rising. There was a shipment of German weaponry coming in for the planned rising but it was intercepted, so some supporters of the planned rising thought it wouldn't be able to go ahead. Many actions were called off, but the rising still went ahead a day later, but with a lot less Volunteers than there would have been. Only a minority of the Irish public were behind this rebellion, and the Volunteers surrendered after a few days. After the surrender, the Volunteers were generally unpopular, but after seeing how the insurgents were treated by the British, the Irish public gradually came round and there became widespread support for the rebels of Easter 1916. A broad political movement under the banner of Sinn Féin formed, and the Declaration of Independence was adopted in 1919.
The group of about thirty people applauded our guide, and he received some tips (since it's a free tour and these freelance tour guides aren't payed by the tour guide company, the only money they get is from tips). Because he was such a good guide, I was very close to giving him a tip...but I couldn't quite let go of the money. I find it so hard to hand over money when I don't need to. A related piece of advice I can remember from my Gran is "never turn down money offered to you". So maybe I get my frugalness from her.
As is usual with these Sandeman's free walking tours, they have a deal with a pub and the guide takes anyone on the tour who's interested to this pub for a meal. I decided I might as well go along, and had a typical Irish meal of beef Guinness stew, mashed potato and veggies for €10, it wasn't a bad meal.

A traditional Irish meal: beef Guinness stew, mashed potato and veggies.

Dublin is actually quite an expensive city; it's ranked as the 25th most expensive city in the world, and the 10th most expensive to live.
So yeah, that was a very interesting tour; I learnt a lot about Ireland that I didn't know. Well, I knew very little about Ireland to start with.
Afterwards I walked back to the hostel with Meta, and a bit later we went to see St Patrick's Cathedral.

St Patrick's Cathredal, Dublin.

It was closed for public entry, and it would have cost €5 or something to go in anyway, so we just had a look at the outside then went and did some shopping. I bought some pasta to cook up in preparation for lunch the next day, and I did so in record time because I had a Porcupine Tree gig to get to!
I booked my ticket for this gig a week ago, and planned my touring around Ireland so that I was in Dublin tonight to see Porcupine Tree, which I was very much looking forward to. I've seen them twice before, in Melbourne for their only two Australian tours, and they've been my favourite two concerts ever, and that's saying something because I've been to quite a few concerts. So my expectations were high.
I'd told Meta earlier that I was going to see Porcupine Tree tonight. Like most people, she hadn't heard of them, so I described what they were like, and she said she'd give them a listen later on and come with me if she liked them. She'd listened to them and was coming along.
I'd gone for a walk earlier in the day, at about 4 o'clock, to find where the venue was, and there were three people lined up at the door. The first guy in line was French, but was studying Law at Trinity College. He'd seen Porcupine Tree in Paris, and reckoned he couldn't understand why there were so few people lined up, in Paris at that time there would have been hundreds of people lined up already.

Punters lined up at Tripod to see Porcupine Tree.

However when we got there just after 7 pm, the line was hundreds of people long! Doors opened at 7:30 pm, and we got in before too long.
The support band was called North Atlantic Oscillation, who are a post-progressive rock and electronica band from Edinburgh, Scotland.

North Atlantic Oscillation, playing in support of Porcupine Tree.

And I was quite impressed by them. Then I was eagerly anticipating Porcupine Tree.
The band came out and played a stellar set! Completely lived up to expectations, they were just amazing! I was listening to the concert with such pleasure and just thinking "ah, this is how music should be!" Everyone else was loving it too. I was about five or six people from the front of the stage. Left of me was a girl from Paris, but she was studying at Trinity College. Right of me was a Polish girl, but she'd been living in Dublin for six years and she was with a few Dubliners. In front of me were a few odd attendees: a bloke in his thirties I'd say, and an older man of about sixty-five, who I guessed was his father. But the two of them stood like statues, the old man with his arms crossed most of the time, while the rest of the crowd moved and swayed and even jumped around for the livelier moments, just really feeling the music. But yeah, these two guys didn't really fit in. The young guy must have been like "yeah Dad, come and see this band with me, I reckon you'd like them, they're a bit like Pink Floyd". Another guy to my left was really getting into it, he had dreadlocks and was doing a bit of head banging, jumping, really enthusiastic, a real fan, that's what I like to see. He reckoned he'd interviewed Stephen Wilson (the lead man of the band) five years ago, and had his email address too. And he agreed with me that Porcupine Tree are one of the most under-rated bands in the world, and also the greatest band in the world. If you haven't heard them, you should do yourself a favour and check them out! Albums like Stupid Dream, In Absentia, Deadwing... they're just works of art, you can listen to them over and over.
My favourite part of the gig was when they played a song from an earlier part of their discography: The Sky Moves Sideways, an epic 18 minute piece of psychedelic progressive rock mastery. I could rave about this band all day. I'll just add in here a few comments from the last.fm page from other people who attended the gig:
"Awesome gig, thumbs up!"
"Absolutely amazing gig!"
"Amazing gig, one of the best nights of my life!"
"It was a incredible gig! So worth travelling from Nottingham for this gig! 2 hours wasn't enough, WE WANT MORE!!"
"@Nattey you weren't the only person that travelled from Nottingham for this gig. Highlights for me were TSMS, Time Flies and Sleep Together. Brilliant gig. NAO weren't half bad either" [TSMS stands for The Sky Moves Sideways].
"I never thought I'd hear The Sky Moves Sideways live in my lifetime. Oh, how wrong I was. Blown away."
"Unreal gig. think I can die a little happier now."
"The best gig iseen and listened to in years. fantastic sound and great performance. lol hands up for PT."
I didn't take any photos of the band because they hate people photographing them when they're playing. I guess they think everyone should just be enjoying the music. I did take a photo of Gavin Harrison's drum-kit though:

Gavin Harrison's drum-kit.

Gavin Harrison is widely considered one of the greatest drummers in the world, I think he's pretty amazing. And the bassist from the band is Colin Edwin, originally from Melbourne. He always wears a beret, and always has a kind of whimsical, serene smile on his face.
Yeah the sound was amazing too, it was in "Dublin's best medium sized music venue", called Tripod.

After Porcupine Tree played at Tripod.

It opened in 2006, after two and a half years in planning, so careful attention was payed to the acoustics, and "it boasts a perfect line of site from every point in the venue".

Inside Tripod, Dublin's best medium-sized music venue.

The sound desk in Tripod.

Leaving Tripod after seeing Porcupine Tree.

The venue reminded me of the Palace Theatre in Melbourne.
This would have to be the highlight of the trip so far. The idea of riding back to Belfast to see them the next night crossed my mind, but no, I couldn't justify it.

A girl in the hostel that came to see Porcupine Tree with me.

We walked back to the hostel, and I spent a while surfing the net and blogging on one of the computers there before getting to bed.

Ride stats:
No riding today

Newcastle to Dublin

Sunday October 10, 2010
An early start was planned again, but as usual, it didn't quite happen. I got up by about 9:30 am.
This is where I camped but I forgot to take a photo before I took the tent down.

My campsite for the night, behind a couple of houses, in Newcastle, Northern Ireland.

I timed myself between waking up and rolling out, and found it took 1.5 hours, and that's doing everything fairly quickly.

Looking towards Tollymore Forest Park from Bryansford Road, near Newcastle, Northern Ireland.

The riding was quite scenic to start off with, off-road through a forest called Tollymore Forest.

Following a track in Tollymore Forest Park, Northern Ireland.

This forest even had some eucalyptus trees, the first ones I've seen since leaving Australia.

I was excited to see some Eucalyptus trees in the Tollymore Forest Park, Northern Ireland.

There were quite a few paths through this forest, and none of them were signposted with the cycle network route, so I was just trying to follow the right ones using the iPhone with GPS, with a map lacking sufficient detail. This resulted in me taking a wrong turn so I stopped to study the map again, at which point a woman jogging past stopped and asked if I needed any help.
I told her I thought I'd taken a wrong turn, and showed her the map, and explained where I'd come from and where I was going, and she confirmed my suspicion that I'd missed a turn and explained the route I needed to take. I said I was planning to get to Dublin to stay there that night. And guess what she said? "Oh, you won't get to Dublin tonight", she told me matter-of-factly.
"Well thank you for your advice, but no thanks for your pessimism miss" I thought. What I said was different: "Oh...how far is to Dublin, do you know?"
"It'd be a hundred miles to Dublin from here," she replied.
"A hundred miles, what's that...about 160 km...yeah I think I can make it there tonight. I did 130 km yesterday..."
She asked me where I had stayed the previous night, and I couldn't remember, I had a complete mental blank until she suggested Belfast, and I was like "oh yeah, that's right, I was in Belfast that night.
So after a quick chat, she kept jogging, and I went back and took the turn I'd missed.
This track wasn't actually part of the cycling route though, I'd missed a turn somewhere earlier on, and this one was really just a walking track, which I wanted to take because it led back to the cycling route.
Sometimes walking tracks are okay for bikes, but sometimes they have things like steps and all kinds of obstacles which only walkers can get past easily. Unfortunately this one had a few gates and walls in the way! The first obstacle was a rock wall, which had some steps for walkers to get over. With some contemplation, followed by much effort, I lifted the loaded bike over it, ah it's so heavy! Then just further up the track, there was a locked gate. I thought "well, I'm not turning back now after I've just gotten the bike over that wall", so I again lifted the 50 odd kg bike over it, with difficulty, because it's so awkward to lift.
A little further on, another gate, great! I was thinking "there better not be too many more of these!" I lifted the bike over again and luckily this was the last one. Then it was clear sailing, back on sealed roads, and into the scenic Mourne mountains.

The Mourne Mountains from Meelmore Lodge, off Treasey Rd, Northern Ireland.

The Mourne Mountains from Treasey Rd, Northern Ireland. 

A reservoir off Slievenaman Road, in the Mourne Mountains.

The Mourne Mountains from the intersection of Kilkeel Rd and Kinnahalla Rd, Northern Ireland.

The Mourne Mountains from Sandbank Road, Northern Ireland.

After the Mournes just past a town called Rostrevor, I was passed by another cyclist, a road cyclist.

Heading out of the Mourne Mountains, looking back towards Rostrevor.

Looking back towards the town of Rostrevor.

There's nothing like another cyclist to spur you on. I thought "I'm going to try and keep up with this guy, I reckon I can". So I put my head down and chased him down after a few kilometres.
He reckoned I was doing well to be riding at the speed I was (around 30 km/h).
We talked about the usual (where I was from, where I'd been, where I was going, etc).
He talked about some young Irish cyclists, two guys that have been friends for a while, and were in the same year at school, there was always much rivalry between them. One went into mountain biking, and the other into track and road. And now the mountain biker, I think he said, has joined a pro team. He seemed to know quite a lot about racing.
He told me he had a house in Ballycastle (Northern Ireland, I stayed there a night) and that he'd done a four day race across from somewhere to somewhere in Northern Ireland, which he described in some detail. I can only remember that the weather conditions for the race this year were windy and rainy.
This guy reckoned he'd ride about 8000 km in an average year, which would probably be more than I ride each year, although I should easily exceed that this year.
He also gave me some directions on how to get to Dublin, which was useful because I hadn't planned any route past where I was.
I got to Dundalk and didn't know which way to go next. I was about to ride down the main road, the N1, because it looked fairly direct and I just stopped at a roundabout, there happened to be another "cyclist" there. He was a bloke with a bike anyway; he struck me as rather odd. But I asked him for some advice anyway. He reckoned I'd get myself killed if I took the N1. He said he'd ridden it once before, "its busy, it's got pot-holes...it's lethal!" He recommended I take Dublin Road, the R132 which I think was the old road people used to use to get between Dublin and Belfast before the motorway was built.
I was traveling at a good pace for most of the day; I blew my previous highest average speed out of the water, and averaged 21.5 km/h for the day.

The sun setting as I rode through a town called Julianstown, Ireland.

It still got dark before I made it to Dublin though, and about 15 km out, I noticed the back tyre had gone flat, I was pretty angry. The flat tyres all seem to occur gradually rather than suddenly, and I notice them by the bumps on the road being softened and the tyre becoming bouncy.
I tried a quick re-pump of the tyre to see if I could get to Dublin, but it was flat again after just another kilometre or two, I had no choice but to stop and fix it, what a drag! I found two punctures, both caused by big thorns.
Forty-five minutes later I was back on the bike, and cruised into Dublin.
I found some Wi-Fi and spent quite a while researching hostels, I wanted to get a good one after my experience in Belfast!
Tough choice, since a lot of them seemed to be really good, but settled on Avalon House. Turned out to be pretty good, not perfect but can't complain about too much, the biggest issue I had was that my dorm was I was on the third floor, and it was a real struggle to walk up the stairs multiple times, and with my bags, after such a long day on the bike.
I ate the rest of my jam on the rest of my bread for tea.

Thickly-spread jam on bread for tea in the hostel.

But was still hungry so I just went to subway, and in there I came across the Canadian guy who I'd met in Paddy's Palace in Belfast, the one who nobody else liked, and he was with his girlfriend. What are the chances, eh?
I rode back to the hostel and was very much looking forward to a well-deserved sleep.

Ride Stats
Distance: 161.74 km
Average: 21.5 km/h
Maximum: 60.9 km/h
Time: 7:29:58

Behind in Blog

Hi folks, sorry about my blog not being up-to-date. As you would know, I'm no longer in Ireland. I'm actually now in Siena staying with Rosanna for a little while, so this will give me a chance to catch up on my blog, which I'm keen to do. So much has happened between leaving Ireland and arriving here.
I'll continue to write a post for each day. I generally make a start on the post in that day or at least take notes down, so I've got 30 odd posts on my iPhone here that I just need to expand upon and publish. Since a lot of this happened a while ago now, the posts may be a little shorter since I won't be able to remember all the details.
So why have I fallen over a month behind in my blog? Well primarily because I haven't found the time to write it. I've done a lot of long days on the bike and a lot of night time riding, so by the time I've set up the tent each night, all I want to do is go to sleep, and sleep takes priority over writing my blog. And when I'm in a hostel, I feel like I'm missing out on opportunities if I'm just sitting there writing my blog when there are lots of interesting people to meet and talk to, and cities to explore.
I want to publish my posts in chronological order, but I like to write the current days post first before I forget the details and thoughts and feelings, which means the older posts haven't been getting written...until now.
This will also give me the chance to take a much needed rest after two months of solid touring, while I hang out in the beautiful university town of Siena, full of interesting medieval architecture.

Belfast to Newcastle

Saturday October 9, 2010
No free breakfast at this hostel (the Linen House hostel). Fortunately I happened to have about 80 Weet-Bix, some Fruit 'n' Fibre Flakes, some rice bubbles and two litres of milk with me.
I packed up but before I left I had to use the Wi-Fi to work out where I was going, to cache maps on Google Maps and the bike hub app. Frustratingly the Wi-Fi wasn't working for me, so I just headed off and found a Maccas, where I would have spent a good forty-five minutes downloading detail on the maps because the connection was so slow, and it was very frustrating.
See I'd run out of credit so I couldn't get internet from the cellular network, and I didn't want to top up because I was about to leave the UK. The Republic of Ireland isn't part of the UK, and I can't use my UK SIM card for internet outside the UK (unless I want to pay hundreds in data roaming fees!) And I figure there's no point getting another one just for the Republic of Ireland when I'll only be there a few days too.
So I eventually rolled out of Belfast around mid-day. I was planning on taking the scenic route, and doing a big day of riding so that I didn't have far to go to Dublin the next day, and I'd be able to get to the hostel early (can you guess what happened?)
I never saw much of Belfast but I took a few quick snaps on the way out:

The Albert Memorial Clock in Queens Square, Belfast. It was completed in 1869.

Custom House Square, Belfast.

The Big Fish, Donegall Quay, Belfast.

Overlooking the town of Newtownards from Scrabo Road, Northern Ireland.

The wind was mostly against me to start with, my legs were tired and going was slow. I got to this inlet called Strangford Lough and was going to ride around one side.

On Portaferry Road south of Newtownards, overlooking Strangford Lough in the Irish Sea.

The woman at the information centre in Larne had said this was better than the coastal side. Once on this road though, I discovered it was very busy, with absolutely no shoulder, but a rough path beside the road with blackberries and the like intruding, certainly not ideal. I guess because it was a Saturday lots of people were out and about on these tourist roads.
I couldn't handle riding on this road for long, I was probably safe enough because most of the cars slow right down and don't pass you until it's safe, but I feel bad if I'm holding up the traffic all the time, and frustrating all the drivers. So I took a detour, got back onto the cycle network route which went mostly alongside the coast, but not on a very direct route.

An intersection in Ballyhalbert, Northern Ireland, with the Irish Sea in the background.

On Quintin Bay Road, south-east of Portaferry.

I kept riding to a place called Portaferry, where one needs to catch a ferry to continue traveling south. I didn't stop for lunch because I didn't know what time the last ferry was, so I'd actually gone seven hours without eating anything. I was feeling good though, after a huge dinner and then a huge breakfast to keep me going. It seems to take me a few hours to warm up, because mid-afternoon I was strong, and the wind had become my friend and was helping me out too.
I got to Portaferry at 5 pm and the last ferry was at about 10 pm so I was laughin'.

Strangford Lough Ferry Service.

The town of Portaferry, Northern Ireland.

On the ferry crossing the Strangford Lough from Portaferry to Strangford, Northern Ireland.

On the ferry crossing the Strangford Lough from Portaferry to Strangford, Northern Ireland. 

On the ferry crossing the Strangford Lough from Portaferry to Strangford, Northern Ireland. 

On the ferry crossing the Strangford Lough from Portaferry to Strangford, Northern Ireland. 

I ate lunch on the five minute ride, and in the town on the other side: Strangford.
It was starting to get dark by this stage, and I had progressed nowhere near as far as I'd wanted to! There was meant to be some beautiful mountains called the Mournes, which I'd wanted to go through that day, but I realised I wasn't going to have time before dark, and didn't want to go through them in the dark since they were meant to be beautiful as I say, and I wanted to actually see them, so I stopped at the town just before them - Newcastle.
Here I ate some more left over beef stroganoff for tea, then found a camp site near the river.
I couldn't believe I'd traveled 126 km and only gotten as far as the Mournes! Dublin was only meant to be 160 km from Belfast by the most direct route...which I obviously wasn't taking, because Belfast was only 53 km away by a direct route from my current location. That meant I'd have to put in a huge day to get to Dublin the next day. With this in mind, I got to bed early, before 11 pm!
Meanwhile my housemate Jim was having a sleep over with friends at his place in Porcupine Ridge, Australia, and there I was on a Saturday night all on my own, I was a bit jealous.

Ride Stats
Belfast to Newcastle
Distance: 126.25 km
Average: 19.7 km/h
Maximum: 48.0 km/h
Time: 6:22:46

Belfast

Friday October 8, 2010
Sorry it's been a while between drinks, I haven't found the time to write any posts for a while. I'm currently in a hostel in Amsterdam and took some time out of my busy schedule for some blogging. Be warned, this is a long post with few photos. It's taken me a few weeks to write this one!
So where was I? Ah, just stayed at a dodgy hostel for my first night in Belfast.
I had a poor night's sleep because people kept coming in during the night, and the sun woke me up early because the curtain wouldn't close properly.

My bed for the night (top bunk in the centre) in Paddy's Palace hostel.

Also people were getting up early to go on the Coastal Causeway tour on a bus, which you could do for free if you booked in to the hostel for two nights or more. I'd already ridden along the Coastal Causeway route though. Extras like this mean other aspects of the hostel are compromised because money is spent on this tour instead, so I was losing out.
I took advantage if the free breakfast as usual (toast and cereal). I had to try and get my money's worth eh. One of the Australian girls had a jar of Vegemite which she let me have some of ☺
I didn't hang around too long; I packed my bag and rolled right outta there! I rode back in towards the city centre and saw a sign to a hostel, which I spontaneously followed without much thought.
I went to reception and enquired, I wasn't actually planning on booking in, I just wanted some info, because I wanted to do some more research before settling on a hostel. But he was like "so it's just for one night?"
"Ah...yeah, it'd just be for tonight"
"Okay, we have space in six bed dorms for such and such pounds, eight bed dorms for such and such, etc, which would you like?" (He didn't actually say "such and such" though).
"Ah...I'd just go the cheapest one" I replied.
"Okay, that's six-fifty, for the twenty-four bed dorm"
"Ah...okay".
Like I say I wasn't planning to book in straight away, but I was there, it was cheap, it was easy, and he'd talked me into it, so I just thought "why not? Just do it, there's nothing wrong with being spontaneous."
I booked in for the night. The Wi-Fi wasn't free though, had to pay another two pounds for that. I was feeling so tired and lethargic I just collapsed on a couch there with my iPhone and surfed the net, I didn't feel like doing anything. And it was only 11 o'clock in the morning. I couldn't be bothered looking at tourist attractions, or even wandering around exploring the city on my bike as I often like to do.
I had a look on Hostelworld, and discovered this hostel, "Linen House Hostel", was quite poorly rated, even less than "Paddy's Palace" where I'd just come from. "Great", I thought (sarcastically).
Ones experience of a city can be strongly influenced by the hostel one stays in, and I wanted a good experience in Belfast! The accent of Belfastians (is that the word for people from Belfast?) would probably be my favourite accent in the world.
I had an idea: find a good hostel on Hostelworld, tell Linen House Hostel that I'd just discovered my favourite band were playing in Dublin so I wanted to head there straight away if possible (which was half true), and ask if I could have a refund. Then I'd go to the good hostel.
Hostelworld reckoned "Vegabonds" was reputedly the best hostel in all of the United Kingdom, so I rode there to check if they had vacancies. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly being a Friday night, and being the best hostel in the UK, they were booked out, damn! The place had a really good vibe too! I spoke to one of the staff who made suggestions of a few other hostels. He sounded Australian, he was like "you're best bet would be Lagans Backpackers or the YHA International" and he pointed them out on a big map in the hallway which had all the hostels in Belfast marked on it. Then he warned me to "stay right away from this one and this one," pointing to Paddy's Palace and the Linen House Hostel. "Great", I thought sarcastically. I'd inadvertently managed to book into the two worst hostels in Belfast, for the only two nights I was there.
I gave up and went back to the Linen House Hostel. I thought "it's too much hassle trying to change hostels now, it doesn't matter, I can learn from this, it's all good experience". But as Oscar Wilde said, "experience is the name we all give to our mistakes".
So what could I learn? Firstly, the ratings on Hostelworld do mean something. The hostel I stayed at in Edinburgh, Caledonian Backpackers, had a rating of 92 %, and that was the best hostel I've ever stayed in. Vegabonds rating was 96 % so I'm sure it would have been good.
The other lesson would be to do some research or investigation into hostels (when there are options, i.e. when in cities) into which hostel is the best for me, and not just be spontaneous.
So what makes a good hostel? The things I look for are a free breakfast, free Wi-Fi and bike parking. Laundry is useful if I have clothes to wash, and a kitchen too so I can cook and save money since I'm a cheap skate. Cleanliness is nice, a good common area is important to meet other travelers, a bit of character in the architecture of the building doesn't go astray, the cost has to be reasonable, and friendly/helpful staff. I like a late check-out time too. Most importantly though, it needs to have a good vibe, a good atmosphere.
The Linen House Hostel turned out to be not so bad. It didn't have much of an atmosphere, but at least the Internet worked. The kitchen was fine (although the hotplates weren't very hot I later found out, they were really just 'moderately-hotplates'). This seems to be the norm for hostel kitchens though.
The place was originally a linen factory, and it was converted to a hostel, so it wasn't originally made to be lived in, and there were little things like a lack of power points, since there originally wouldn't have been any. This hostel didn't provide a free breakfast either, but you can't really complain for the price, £6.50 is the cheapest hostel I've seen.
I barely even got out that day, I withdrew into my own little world on my iPhone. Actually I did talk to one guy - he was wearing an "Airbourne" T-shirt. For those who don't know, Airbourne are a straight-down-the-line rock band from Warrnambool, Australia, who sound like AC/DC. One would assume a bloke in an Airbourne t-shirt would be Australian, right? So I asked him: "are you Australian?"
"Nah I'm from England actually..."
"I thought you were Australian because you're wearing an Airbourne t-shirt, they're an Australian band"
"Yeah, a few people have told me that... I just really needed a t-shirt, and I found this one in an op-shop for three pounds".
This guy was pretty interested in what I was doing with regard to how I was traveling, because he was considering getting a cheap bike to tour as well. He was surprised I hadn't had any mechanical problems for the whole five weeks I've been traveling, I told him it's because it's a good quality touring bike.
He'd been traveling via public transport and hitch-hiking.
He also said he wants to run ultra-marathons, reckons marathons are too easy, and anyone can do them. But he's been going to the gym and bulked up so his plan is to get the girlfriend then gain the long distance runners stature, (skinny) and run ultra-marathons.
And I think he was more disorganised than me with regards to forward planning too. Glad to see I'm not the only one. And his favourite kind of weather is rainy, because it clears the streets of people.
Other than talking to this bloke, I did some blogging, researched hostels for Dublin (see how prepared I was being?) browsed some web pages and the usual twitter and Facebook and before I knew it, it was dark and time to organise something for tea.
I hopped on the bike and rode to the Tesco (one of the major supermarket chains) in the main street.
To my astonishment, it was already closed! 8:30 pm on a Friday night, and it had closed at 8 pm, and this was a major city! Even the supermarket in my small home-town of Daylesford is open until something like 10 pm!
I searched for another supermarket on Google Maps and rode to one further out. I saw that it was massive, and thought "cool, it'll be open for a while yet". It was open until 9 pm, I had less than 15 minutes. This may seem like enough, but when you have to lock up the bike, and the place is big, and you're unfamiliar with the layout and most of the products, and when you haven't worked out what you're going to cook, it's not really enough time. I was under pressure, decided on a beef stroganoff, bought a whole bag full of stuff for it, and I was the last customer.
I said to the check-out chick "I'm surprised you close so early, you caught me by surprise... are there any that are open later?"
She said "the only ones would be the 24 hour ones out in...[and she named both of them, whoop whoop probably]",
And because I was rushed, I'd forgotten an important ingredient - onions. I love onions! I was so annoyed at myself, I would have to make the stroganoff without onions.
I rode back to the hostel and was pretty starving by that stage so I scoffed down half a dozen slices of toast with jam, then cooked the stroganoff.

Cooking a huge beef stroganoff in the kitchen of the Linen House Hostel, Belfast.

And it was a massive beef stroganoff too, it could have fed a whole African family for a week. It filled a large saucepan, and I figured I might as well save on dishes and eat it straight out of the saucepan.

The beef stroganoff I cooked, to serve one.

So I took it to a table and sat down, then realised it must have looked pretty funny, one guy sitting down to eat a massive pot of stroganoff on his own. I grinned at the thought, and indeed there was an older bloke at the table in front of me watching.
"You reckon you've got enough there mate?" he asked.
"Yeah, it should do me I think", I replied, still with a grin, and he laughed.
"Nah, I should have some left over for when I'm on the bike tomorrow..." I said, and the conversation went from there.
He had been watching the TV with a beer, but he started chatting with me instead, he was an interesting bloke to talk to. Like I say, he was older than your average hosteller, at thirty-four years of age. I find it's often good to chat to older people because experience, wisdom and knowledge tend to come with age. Older people have lived more, they have more stories, better understanding of the world, more advice, etc. And this bloke had certainly done his fair share of traveling.
Once in a conversation, I often like to sit back and do most of the listening, let them do all the talking. This way you learn more. You don't learn anything if you're the one talking the whole time. But at the same time a conversation goes both ways, so I would answer his questions and maybe ask him one, or he would just add something and then take over the conversation again, he was happy to talk.
He was born in Scotland, but moved with his family to Hong Kong for a bit when he was young, then to Australia and lived near Wollongong. He worked in a bar in Sydney for a while, and lots of Irish back-packers would come through, work for a month maybe, then keep going on their travels around Australia, then later come back and work a bit longer, and one day he said "stuff it, I'm going with them". So he travelled around Australia a bit, he picked tobacco for a while, which he reckoned was good money. He also picked pears. I knew where he was coming from, because I've picked pears, peaches, plums, nectarines and apricots for several seasons up around Shepparton and Cobram, and met plenty of back-packers, as well as locals, while doing it, and I really enjoyed these experiences, and earned money at the same time.
When this guy was going around picking though, he reckoned one Aussie guy he was working with would pick for half a season, then go up to the Northern Territory and herd cattle for six months, and alternate like that, he'd been doing it for years. And this bloke had a little shack, with an outhouse, and the bloke I was currently chatting to (unfortunately I never got his name) had been in there and there was a big stack of pornographic magazines sitting beside the toilet that this seasoned cattle herder/fruit picker had built up over many years, pretty funny.
He was picking tobacco near Orange in NSW, and in the town there was a guy who ran a massive Olympic sized swimming pool, but never got much business because it was only a small town. These guys on the farm though would have days when there was no picking to do, so on their days off a whole bunch of them would go to the pool for the day, the pool manager must have loved it, with patronage suddenly increasing by about 500 %.
He told me a story about when he was hitch-hiking once. He was catching a train somewhere but didn't have the money to catch it all the way so he had to hitch-hike. He got in an old car with a middle aged couple that had pulled over for him. They had the esky sitting between them and were like "hey mate, want a beer, yeah grab yourself a beer, here you go", and the woman passed one back, and passed another one to her husband who was driving, and he was just thinking "oh shit, what have I gotten myself into, I'm going to die!" As you can see though, he survived.
We talked about differences between Australian states, he reckoned you could tell the difference between a Queenslander and a Tasmanian for example. And a city person from a country person, their accents are different too.
This bloke moved to Dublin when he was about twenty-four, and he's been living there for the past ten years. He works as a freelance journalist, which would be a great job because of the flexibility and freedom. He can work his own hours, and wherever he likes, with his own creative control. He'd do graphics for things like magazines, music album covers, etc, and also creates some of his own artwork and sells that. He mentioned he met some people from Melbourne band The Wishing Well in a pub there a few days ago too.
The reason he was at this hostel in Belfast was because he was on his way to London, can't remember if he was moving there or just doing a bit of a stint there, but he thought he'd stop-over in Belfast for a few weeks just to see the place, since he'd never been there during the ten years he'd been living in Dublin.
He had the same problem as me here too. Tonight he'd felt like having a quite beer before bed, so he'd gone out to find a shop. He asked a few people if they knew where a shop was, they just gave him a funny look, as if to say "why would you want to do any shopping at this hour? That's crazy" but they'd say something like "awh no, won't find anything open at this hour", and it was only not long after 8 o'clock on a Friday night! One guy pointed him in the right direction though, and he found a shop to buy a bottle of beer.
So Belfast is certainly not a 24 hour city, much different to Sydney or Melbourne where shops are open all the time eh. I guess it stems from the days when Belfast used to have a curfew, and people wouldn't be allowed outside after 9 pm or whatever hour the curfew was.
He told me about a guy he'd come across staying in the hostel who was pretty harmless but a bit crazy. He wouldn't go out after 8 pm. "They'll kidnap you, kill you and you'll never be found, they'll cut you up into pieces and throw you in a river," he would say, as well as things like "oh, I wouldn't walk down that street after 9 pm, full of Catholics."

This bloke actually asked me a lot of questions, which was nice of him, to show an interest in what I was doing. Questions like how I go being on my own, how I go with food, did I take the bike on the plane (actually this is one of the most common questions that people ask me). And about where I was from, what I'd be doing next year. He reckoned he used to walk to work in Sydney, reckons Melbourne is better for cycling because the road space is more spread out, whereas Sydney is more compact, and not as good for cycling.
We talked about people who do crazy things. He mentioned a guy that's been riding around on his bike for ten years, and he travels at about one kilometre per hour, he's in no hurry to get anywhere. Also the bloke that was kayaking from Australia to New Zealand, and they filmed a documentary on it, he got submerged by a wave and drowned after about thirty days, not far from reaching New Zealand, only 80 km or so, very sad.
And another bloke who set out to walk the length of the Amazon river with his mate. It was meant to take eight months. They had a bit of a disagreement and his mate ended up pulling the pin and abandoning him after about six months, so he went on on his own. He somehow survived local tribes who wanted to kill him because they thought he was a white devil coming to threaten their village, and poaches and drug traders who wanted to kill him because they thought he could have been a spy/informant or whatever. The trek ended up taking two years and costing $20,000 more than he had planned for, funds which he had to borrow from his family, but amazingly and impressively, he made it. "Now why someone would want to do something like that, I'm not sure", was what this bloke had said about that. It is pretty crazy, but it seems some people feel the need to set massive challengers for themselves, and then they're not satisfied until they achieve it. Like people that climb Mt Everest, or trek across Antarctica or the North Pole or whatever they do. Or this guy I can remember reading about in the Age one day, he was an Australian bloke who was a deep sea SCUBA diver and held records for deepest dives and such. There was this underwater cave about 270 metres down, and another diver had perished down there while doing a dive some time earlier. Anyway, this guy volunteered to do the family of the deceased diver a favour and decided he'd try and dive down there into the cave and fetch the remains of his body for the family, and then they could have a proper burial for him. It was a high risk dive of course. He made it down to the cave, and never made it back, perished there with the other guy, leaving behind his wife and young children, pretty sad.
On the opposite side of the spectrum, we talked about people who like the quiet, unadventurous lifestyle, and feel no need to travel at all. His brother, for example, had been interested in real estate from a young age and bought a house in inner Sydney, knowing that it wouldn't lose its value due to its good location. So now he's settled there with his family, and because of the mortgage he's locked in to full time work for the next twenty odd years to pay it off. Not really a position I'd like to be in.
He knew this bloke from school who dropped out at sixteen, worked in a trade, earning plenty of money. And he'd asked him "don't you want to go out and see the world?"
He was like "nah, I can see it all on TV...I want to save up and buy a house"
"Where?" he'd asked.
"Right...there" and he'd pointed just down the road. And that's what he did. Some people never travel more than about forty kilometres out from their home town their whole life! The freelance artist I was currently talking to couldn't understand this sort of behaviour, but he'd just let him be, because he was happy. I guess I don't understand it either, I fall into the group that likes to get out and about, to be free and explore, and not to be stuck in one spot.
We talked about Americans travelling, how most only go to countries like the UK and maybe mainland Europe if they're brave, because the media and TV in America tells them that other places are too dangerous. Asian countries, Middle Eastern countries, South American countries, etc, they're all too different, too dangerous, and you would never consider visiting there! That's what their media apparently tells them, anyway.
He mentioned a few guys he knows from Dublin were heading out on their bikes to tour around indefinitely, and make money through photography, by taking photos along the way. He asked if I was taking photos or keeping a blog or anything like that, and I told him about my blog. He reckoned I should make everyone back home jealous by taking photos only with good weather and smiling in all the photos in the blog, even if I wasn't enjoying it.
We talked about planning, how it's hard because you're going through so many unfamiliar towns and places, and each new town you have to work out where everything is, like the toilets, the supermarket, maybe a place to camp, whatever, but you initially don't know where anything is. And if you don't do any planning, you'll go through places and cities and miss things, and later people will say to you "oh, did you take the such and such [safe and scenic] route" or "did you see such and such there, it's amazing!", and you'll be like "no, I ah...didn't know about it..."
He told me where he thinks the most beautiful areas of the UK are - the Scottish Highlands and the West Coast of Ireland. Both look so untouched, so naturally beautiful, you'll look at the grassed mountains and say "wow, isn't it beautiful?" But if you ask an historian or geologist, they'll tell you it was all forests 200 years ago, before all the trees were cut down.
He also told me all about Dublin. He said begging is legal there, but the police push them all off the main tourist street because it portrays a bad image. He told me where the junkies hang out, and how you get bunches of violent drunken youths, often coming over from England for the weekend, just to wreak havoc. He reckoned the young sixteen year old kids will scare you more than a big burly six-foot-four bikie with a beard and tattoos.
He told me about how Dublin is a very expensive city, lots of people in Dublin drive north into Northern Ireland on the weekend and stock up on groceries and especially on cigarettes and alcohol because they're cheaper in Northern Ireland due to the exchange rate.
Throughout this extended conversation, I kept nibbling away at my beef stroganoff, when I have food in front of me I can't help but eat it, and I seriously ate way too much! I was so full that it was painful; afterwards I had to just sit a while and let it start to digest. So it turned out to be a late-ish night, 2:30 am, sleeping in a 24 bed dorm.

Ride stats
Distance: 11.71 km
Average: 15.6 km/h
Maximum: 33.8 km/h
Time: 44:52

Park to Belfast

Thursday October 7, 2010
I probably had the best night's sleep I've had for the past few weeks. I don't think I've slept in a caravan since when I stayed over at the Hallett's place and my friend Tom Hallett was living in the caravan, probably eight or ten years ago.
It was good not to have to pack up the tent, and I got away fairly early (in the morning, anyway).
I rode over the Sperrin Mountains, they weren't steep or high, but a headwind made it slow going.

On Barnes Road in Upper Dreen, Northern Ireland, about to cross the Sperrin Mountains.

On Sperrin Road just south of Upper Dreen, Northern Ireland, about to cross the Sperrin Mountains. 

The sun was out though, and it was pleasant riding after the descent when I the wind was less strong.
I took a toilet stop in Draperstown, and also ate some of the pasta I'd cooked up for lunch.
I had a chat to a bloke there; he was interested in where I was from and what I was doing. He said he'd been at Oktoberfest, and that he'd come across quite a few Australians there too. He also gave me directions to Belfast, the route he would take. I followed his route for a bit, until the roads got too busy, then followed the cycle network route, then a route recommended by the bike hub app.

Somewhere north of Lough Neagh, which is a large fresh-water lake in Northern Ireland.

Lough Neagh, near Antrim, Northern Ireland.

Lough Neagh, near Antrim, Northern Ireland.

Lough Neagh, near Antrim, Northern Ireland.

A tree on the Seven Mile Straight, Muckamore.

I was finally approaching Belfast just when it was getting dark. There was a bit of a climb, followed by a long descent into the city.

The lights of Belfast viewed from the hills to the west of the city, on Ligoniel Road.

I was pretty knackered by this stage.
I stopped near the city centre, found some free Wi-Fi and looked up Hostelworld on the iPhone to find a hostel. "Paddy's Palace" looked okay because it was cheap, seemed to have spare beds, free breakfast and free Wi-Fi, which are the main things I'm after.
Hostelworld allows users who book hostels through them to rate the hostel on various aspects, resulting in an overall rating. Paddy's Palace had an overall average user rating of 72 %, which is relatively low.
I soon found out why it had a low rating - it wasn't a great hostel, the worst I've stayed in so far (not that I've stayed in many, but still). The receptionist had been lounging in the lounge room and didn't exactly put on a happy face to check me in. I was put in a six bed room for £14 because she couldn't find the key for the cheaper twelve bed room which would have cost £9.
The place was pretty run-down, pretty small as well. There were a bunch of people drinking in the common room, they were alright to hang out with.

Fellow hostelers: one of the English girls, the French girl, and two of the Australian girls.

There were three Australian girls and an Australian guy, Alex, that I actually recognised because he'd been in Caledonian Backpackers in Edinburgh when I was there too. Then there were two English girls, a French girl, a Canadian girl and a Canadian guy that was hanging out with everyone but no one seemed to like because he was a bit self-important and apparently he'd hit on a few of the girls, despite already having a girlfriend.
Later on they went out to a club, and abandoned this Canadian guy who had then returned to his room in the hostel dejected, saying that he couldn't find any of them so he decided to just come home. I felt a bit sorry for him actually.
Although he did wake me up when he came back while I was trying to sleep.
I hadn't felt like going out with the others, I was too tired, hadn't showered, didn't have the right clothes, didn't feel like drinking, I just couldn't be bothered! I must be getting old.
So I'd stayed back and chatted to the Canadian girl. She'd just started her one month trip a few days earlier in Dublin, was just going around Europe, and was going to head to France next. She'd just felt she needed to travel, and when she got back home she wanted to buy a house, and find a second job to help pay for it.
The "freeWi-Fi" at this hostel didn't work on my iPhone, and the staff member showed absolutely no interest in helping me out. So I won't be going back to this hostel again, glad I only booked in for one night (they were "pretty full" on the following night apparently, and reckoned they couldn't fit me in anyway). £14 not particularly well spent. Could have been worse though eh? At least I had a bed for the night so I can't complain too much.

Ride stats
Distance: 110.2 km
Average: 18.3 km/h
Maximum: 61.8 km/ h
Time: 6:00:16