Day Thirteen

Tonight I am staying at Oughterard, N.E. Of Galway. I don't no how to pronounce it, and neither does anyone else in the Hostel it would seem.

I left my group of cycling friends, after breakfast who were off in a different direction. We all took photographs, I scrounged some oil and borrowed a Allen key, mine was too long to get into the screw and tighten up a loose front pannier. Then we all said fond farewells and I went on my way to Galway without the rattle that had been driving me crazy for the last few days. It was good to meet that group, I enjoyed their company and conversation and it was good to hear a group of novice cyclists so keen to keep up their new sport. Their holiday was organised and run by Irish Cycling Safaris which seemed to be a well organised and helpful company. Well Ken was who was the guy driving the back-up van and feeding them all (and me) chocolate bars from his bag of goodies.

The first part of the ride around the Burren headland onto Kilgolgan was lovely. It followed the crinkly bit of coastline around the South of Galway bay, with little hamlets and ruins on various headlands. I did not go into the centre of Galway as I was feeling the effect of the seafood supper, or maybe the 3 pints of Guinness. I told Connor that my limit was two pints but he held me down and forced me to drink it. So, I thought that if I stopped cycling at Galway I might find it hard to get started again. The overnight rain did not return and by the afternoon the sun had broken through and it was a good ride, although the road was rather busy. The Tourist Information Office said that my map was correct and that there were no campsites around here. I thought of pushing on a little further but then I saw a sign to a hostel. It is a pretty good hostel nice and clean with a kitchen, easy chairs etc. I paid extra for a room all to myself as I am a relatively rich private sort
of old hostalling guy. That was €25. So I have four bunks to choose from.

Your man here, who runs the hostel, has won Ireland's coveted 'Most Miserable Man of Ireland' competition for the last six years in a row. Its pretty easy for him as the Irish are the most friendly and cheerful people I have met in Europe.

Tomorrow I will head off into the Connemara Hills which is Joyce Country. I don't think it's named after Val's Mum. I loaded a play by Joyce onto my Palm so will perhaps read it tonight.