Inis Meáin Trip - Day 14 - Wales

There's not that much to report from today, really. Emma heard long-eared owls overnight but that was about it for natural history interest.

We drove to Dublin straight after breakfast and had the usual slow-going convoluted trip through the city before reaching the port around mid-morning. At the port I did a few cleaning-and-fettling type jobs whilst Emma-the-Restive went for a run along the (very splendid) greenway that surrounds the port area (pic). I was a bit disappointed that the tide was in as the bay to the north of the port is a really good spot for waders etc when the mudflats are exposed. Hey ho.

The ferry journey back to Holyhead was comfortable and smooth, which is a good thing given the horrible journey out and then the fact we almost featured on Saving Lives at Sea on the trip over to Inis Meáin. It was, furthermore, a good crossing for wildlife. Seabirds featured throughout, with guillemots, Manx shearwaters and gannets being omnipresent. Some of the gannets were also doing their party-piece plummeting dive thing: always a remarkable spectacle. Towards the Welsh coast Emma thinks she saw a solitary puffin and I saw about 10 dolphins (common dolphins, I think).

One other notable from the crossing was that the light and visibility were so good that we could see shipping and landmasses that are normally lost in this vicinity. At one point we could very clearly see both Ireland and Wales at the same time: a first for us.

All in, it's been another enjoyable and Interesting trip. We've crammed loads in, knocked off a difficult parkrun and done OK for wildlife. We've also seen some cracking landscapes and found and explored many natural and cultural attractions. 

On the snakes side of the above ladders: a bit too much of the driving has required full-on unblinking concentration and we've been a bit disappointed by a palpable increase in Ireland's litter problem. 

The whole Park4Night, Turn2Shite phenomenon is undoubtedly really taking hold and the prevalence of improbable clusters of 'vans in varying states of repair and hygiene-rating utterly usurping public spaces not designed or intended for such use is - quite simply - a blight on both natural history and civic interests. This phenomenon seemed disproportionately evident in coastal areas to the west, but also in other well-publicised 'must-see' honeypots.

Anyway, once again it's been a good trip and will perhaps be remembered as the one that led to a change in my own personal thinking and strategies for sussing out new informal overnighting spots going forward. It pains me to think we may be viewed in the same light as the current ignorant travelling fraternity happily forming semi-permanent bespoiling communes to satisfy their own utterly selfish whims, to the detriment of everyone and everything else. The palpable sense of entitlement and arrogance is infuriating. I'm not sure what the answer is, but for the British protagonists amongst them then you'd have to think withdrawing generous state benefits endlessly and unquestioningly paid out as a results of some fabricated artifice leading to a wholly spurious diagnosis of some-or-other neuro-divergence might be a start. 

Post composed at 22:20 on Thursday 30th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.29418°, W 04.63259° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.29418%2C-04.63259 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 14 - Random Images

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 13 - Ireland

The camp was totally untrammeled last night and though it was grey and mizzly first thing this morning we decided to deny our inner-wimp and make the best of the fantastic hiking and biking trails that criss-cross the area.

By around 8.30am Emma was up and (literally) running whilst I was pressing on down formal red routes on my gravel bike.

The bike trails in the area really are spectacularly prepared and maintained. There are sections covering all grades right up to and including pure MTB black routes. I saw the start of a couple of these but wasn't even slightly tempted to give them a go. I'm no MTBer and don't even own an MTB. I'm quite sure that tipping off the edge of the world on to one of these routes on my gravel bike would have meant a professional  response that involved at least ketamine and a spine-board. The routes looked simply insane. Anyway, a massive kudos to Coillte for putting this facility together. It's vast, professional and remarkable.

Post run and bike we had a steady potter through the rest of the Slieve Bloom mountains and even extended the experience there by detouring up over a pass called The Cut. The views from this pass were awesome (pic) so we stopped on the tops and had lunch. Less awesome was the state of the formal picnic areas and lay-byes thereabouts; they were utterly spoiled by fast food packaging, beer tins, plastic bottles, energy drink tins, butt-ends, random bits of clothing and soiled toilet paper. Who actually does this?

Once off the mountains we basically headed east in order to be within striking distance of Dublin to catch the ferry back to Wales tomorrow. The drive was unspectacular but in places challenging, again because of the extraordinarily narrow roads and the speed and volume of traffic. 

In a couple of spots near the honeypot of Glendalough we again saw clusters of pitched-up living vans that had basically transformed public viewing points into campsites and a later check sure enough yet again revealed these spots appeared on the various web-based platforms. Muppetry writ large. Park4Night, Turn2Shite.

We're currently to be found at the coordinates shown; the same spot we overnighted at when we first arrived in Ireland almost a fortnight ago. It's been steady bird-wise but we have had a really excellent sighting of a fox laid up and half dozing on a wall about 70 metres away. Funnily enough, a few years ago we had a very similar experience here but the animal at that time was half dozing on a tree stump. If it's the same fox then it seems to be pretty much on top of things. And on top of things.

For completeness, the spot we're in does not appear on the Turn2Shite app but, nonetheless, is festooned with empty beer tins and other random bits of food packaging people have deemed it's OK to chuck into the hedge bottom.

Post composed at 22:00 on Wednesday 29th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.04575°, W 06.27166° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.04575%2C-06.27166 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 12 - Ireland

It was incredibly moody out on the moors of the Connemara last night and, because of the enveloping cloud; plus our distance from any human enterprise, it's probably one of the darkest places I've ever personally encountered. Literally and metaphorically.

The brooding murk and mizzle continued after breakfast but we weren't too put off by it and both went for a run along the massive sprawling network of peat winners' tracks. We agreed it was a worthwhile and truly atmospheric affair.

In spite of the harshness of the surroundings there were still wrens, meadow pipits and wheatears aplenty. Quite how such tiny birds survive in places like this is both humbling and baffling. Were it not for the tracks and fairly regularly encountered stacked turves of drying peat (pic), it would be easy to imagine that the landscape here was still exactly as it was when the ice retreated and the blanket bogs first formed.

Crossing the city of Galway was again a stop-start nuisance that took at least an hour but once free of its grasp we settled into a steady bumble on mainly R and L roads heading roughly Dublin-wards.

It was a nice enough experience, too. I think it's the first time we've bumbled through the county of Offaly and, from what we've seen so far, it seems very laid back and traditional. Architecturally, landscape-wise and culturally, it certainly feels very different to the staunchly Gaeltacht Connemara.

Tonight's intended overnighting spot is at elevation in the Slieve Bloom mountains. We headed here because of promising-looking map features, which included access to formal cycle trails. It's proved a winner. There are plenty of spots to choose from, big vistas and (so far) no other sodding motorcaravanners. We did, though, see that someone had thoughtfully emptied the entire contents of a chemical toilet in one of the formal picnic spots provided up here. 

Best sightings other than a bucket-full of someone's discarded faeces have been crossbills, a hen harrier and a couple of fallow deer.

Post composed at 22:10 on Tuesday 28th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.09034°, W 07.64768° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.09034%2C-07.64768 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 11 - Ireland

It was damp, windy and generally miserable overnight and, continuing the theme, breakfast was essentially spent enveloped in some random cloud. On the upside, visibility wasn't so bad that views out over the bay were completely restricted and I was lucky enough to spot an otter hunting amongst the rocks and seaweed beds at around 6.30am.

As we didn't have much in the way of plans for this trip, other than to visit Spike Island and to do the Inis Meáin parkrun, we'd had a bit of a ponder yesterday and - having enjoyed the very authentic Gaeltacht island of Inis Meáin so much - had decided to try to have a look at the island of Inis Mór, too. This, the largest of the Aran Islands is most readily accessed from Rossaveel, a port village within the Connemara district close to where we happen to be.

And so, we booked online, went to Rossaveel, and by 11.30am were standing in Cill Rónáin the port-town capital of Inis Mór ... and were immediately unsure of our wisdom. Admittedly, the bleak, grey, mizzly conditions didn't help, but those things were secondary in trepidation terms to the sights that met us. 

We - and the 200 or so others that decanted from the ferry - were immediately pounced upon by leaflet touters and other disingenuously friendly people trying to ply goods and services. There were all manner of pony-and-trap, minibus, 'safari' vans and bike hire protagonist etc vying for attention; and all set against a (bleak) backdrop of hundreds of tourists who were already on the island and milling in and out of an agglomeration of tat masquerading as traditional this-and-that type shops and eateries.

It all looked and felt very desperate and about as far from the authenticity and ambiance of neighbouring Inis Meáin as it was possible to be.

We hoped that hiring bikes and quitting the immediate Cill Rónáin area might improve matters some, so we headed for the smallest and apparently least busy bike hire facility we could see. For the record, there were at least four bike-hire companies within a couple of hundred metres of each other; a couple of them huge concerns.

The character we hired from operated from some sort of shed / trailer type thing and seemingly found it necessary to caricature what he presumably thought we presumed was a typical Irish man. He regaled us with tales, forced some craic upon us and smattered it all with far too many F bombs. We just wanted some crappy bikes to escape this crappy place.

Anyway, we did eventually reach that point and thereafter squeaked and rattled off on our ill-maintained steeds towards some semblance of sanity.

Except that didn't happen. The road out of town was - unsurprisingly I suppose - absolutely rammed with tourist laden pony-and-traps, 'safari' vans, minibuses, hikers and about 10,000 rain-soaked people wobbling about on ill-maintained bikes, who frequently randomly stopped to take selfies against a backdrop of unprepossessing things like a soaking wet and bored-looking grazing sheep. 

It was awful. Absolutely everywhere we went for the first couple of hours was just rammed and full of opportunistic tat stands and mobile eateries. Even the Island's famous seal colony was something we just rode by in disgust. Unsurprisingly, not content with just looking at the hauled out and resting animals, several dozen idiots had decided they wanted to be amongst the colony and had made their way across beach and seaweed-strewn rocks to get a selfie with a selkie (or, to be pedantic, a few increasingly concerned looking common seals selfishly disturbed from their restorative time).

Having flashed despondently by the seal colony (and idiots) we headed for an attraction known as the Wormhole, a sea-carved blowhole set in a huge slab of limestone that had hosted a Red Bull sponsored cliff diving event a few years ago. Getting there want easy. It involved about a twenty minute slip-sliding trek over the clints and grykes of the karst landscape whilst also negotiating an Indian file of tourists heading both out to, and back, from the beleaguered attraction. Amongst the madness there was still a few gems of unusual flora, though; with a bonsai-like version of hemp agrimony doing particularly well (pic).

Once at the Wormhole, it was sort of impressive: but not very. We've come across more active blowholes under our own steam before and not even bothered to take a crappy picture of them. What was impressive was its bizarre and totally naturally-carved symmetry. This, apparently, is possible due to the fissures that naturally exist in karst formations. Well, we marvelled at that aspect of it for two seconds or so, and then jostled past dozens of others in order to slip-slide our way back to our ill-maintained steeds.

None of this was going very well so we decided to abort the notion of visiting any of the Island's promoted tourist attractions and just ride as far away from the madness as we could; to the very western tip of the island. Here, at least, tourist numbers were much reduced and it was possible to have a bit of a breather and look out with bins. There wasn't much to see, apart from good numbers of Manx shearwaters, who - for the record - didn't particularly seem to be lamenting the besieged fate of poor old Inis Mór.

After a bit of a recoup and wardrobe adjustment (it had faired up, a bit), we headed roughly back in the direction of Cill Rónáin and did, fortunately, manage to bag a couple of the island's more outlying celebrated attractions amongst ever-thinning tourist numbers en route. The 'Seven Churches' in particular was pretty interesting. It's a self-contained site that accommodates, well, guess what.

Back at the port we celebrated our survival / tried to cheer up a bit by having a massive ice cream. This was, unequivocally, the best part of the day.

All that remained was to endure the contrived chirpiness of the bike-hire man and return to the mainland. As it happened, he said something quite profound. I was lamenting the bespoiling nature of over-tourism and cynical tourist snares and he simply said, in a very different, quite serious, and what was very probably his normal voice: 'They've taken our fishing from us, what are we supposed to do'.

A maze of human / natural world exploitative impacts and the complex intertwined layers thereof immediately started running through my head. I concluded once again that the sooner our idiotic species self-destructs the better. After my 100th birthday, that is.

We're at the location shown, now. It's bleak, currently in a cloud, and doesn't feature on the TurnPlacesToShite app.

Post composed at 21:50 on Monday 27th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.33143°, W 09.52903° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.33143%2C-09.52903 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 11 - Random Images

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 10 - Ireland

After the full-on day we had yesterday we decided to have a really easy one today. The weather agreed that we shouldn't aim too high, too; it's been grey, cold, windy and showery all day long.

Even though we've only moved about 110km around Galway Bay the planned easy day was somewhat counterpunched by the nature of the drive. The N roads around the Burren area in particular are very narrow and were today very busy. The incessant parade of oncoming huge coaches in particular - presumably Cliffs of Moher bound - made for countless stops and bury-it-in-the-hedge style pull overs. The area around Galway city too was absolutely rammed and it's fair to say full concentration has been the order of the day's drive. I was personally barely even able to glance at the huge and always-impressive limestone slabs of the Burren for fear of catching the edge of the road and being dragged into a ditch. 

As a point of interest, it does seem to be a feature of many Irish cars that the nearside is in palpably worse condition scrapes-and-dings wise than the offside. Buffering along hedgerows appears to be perfectly normal.

After about three hours of hgv-driving-test levels of concentration, we arrived at a place we've used a couple of times before in the heart of the Connemara. I really like this region, it's barren and mountainous but punctuated with some really delightful rocky bays and countless jewel-like peaty pools. 

The place we're planning to sleep has a commanding view over a lovely tidal bay and has previously been good for seals and otter. It's been underwhelming natural-history wise today, though, with a couple of common seals, one common gull, wheatear and the more expected gulls and waders being about as good as it's got.

Though the natural-history interest has been slow we have been kept on our toes by flaming motorcaravan and stealth-van types. 

Several have slowed right down as they've gone by and obviously been weighing the possibility of squeezing by us or parking right next to / behind us. One pair of Austrian vans stopped fully and the occupants had a tromp about for more than five minutes clearly deliberating whether they could squeeze in front of us. Fortunately, having seen the chaos of crammed-in vans at places like this over the past few days, I'd positioned the truck defensively and - ultimately - we did manage to remain alone. 

This caper really isn't what it used to be. It would appear that it's now something of a norm to actively seek out spots in which to cram together sardine-like to presumably discuss with fellow travellers how good the spot would have been if it hadn't been turned into a noisy eyesore*. 

Watch the backlash follow ...

Post composed at 22:05 on Sunday 26th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.33706°, W 09.55984° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.33706%2C-09.55984 

*As a matter of interest I later checked and - sure enough - the spot we're currently at now features on the 'Park4Night' website; and probably many other such TurnPlacesToShite-type platforms. I can't see how it's described on the particular clownshoes platform named as subscription is required before it's possible to see exactly what tripe appears in the summary and reviews.

I guess that's the last time we'll ever stop here: or most other places around the coast of Ireland. What a crapfest.

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 9 - Ireland

It was a grey and cold start to the morning, something we've become quite unaccustomed to of late. The overnighting spot was completely consumed in cloud and the strong breeze made for horizontal sheets of water swirling around the truck. This did not bode well for the sea crossing that we were going to have to take in order to reach Inis Meáin. As I've banged on about before, I don't travel well at sea.

We were forced to park the best part of a kilometre from Doolin pier as the pay-and-display car park there only allowed vehicles up to 3.5t (plus coaches) to occupy officiously-signed bays. Not to worry, though, the intransigence saved us €5. And so, through wind and sideways rain we trooped to the pier to join something like 150 other passengers, many of them already in running gear, to embark on the disturbingly small Doolin Ferry boat.

Now, said boat would have been perfectly fine on relatively calm sees but with the  massive swells and hideous peaks-and-troughs we invariably encountered it was one seriously rocky ride. Most passengers were - at first - dealing with the crashing and fully inundated progress with humour and flippancy, but it didn't take long before many turned green and a virtual silence prevailed. It was obvious many were more than a little concerned.

For about a quarter of an hour things were indeed pretty ropey but once we'd made the lee of the first of the 'Inis series' islands things improved to the point of being able to concentrate on holding on to breakfast rather than working through contingencies for shipwreck survival.

Upon glorious arrival at Inis Meáin we were again greeted with sideways winds and sheeting rain. It made for an odd sight to watch around 100 people in bright and altogether inappropriate dress trooping their way in head-down Indian file to the parkrun muster point about a kilometre inland.

Fortunately, the muster point was a very charitable one. The island very generously allows the use of its community centre as a warm, dry and well equipped place to sit, huddle, get changed and visit the loo. And that's what everyone did. The parkrun is unique in the world in staring at 12 noon. It's received special dispensation to do this to accommodate not only our own, but another later passenger ferry to arrive and decant participants. 

Anyway, 12 noon came around pretty quickly and it had, by this stage, stopped raining at least. The parkrun atmosphere was incredibly jovial and welcoming and in spite of the gruelling effort to come everyone was in good spirits. Most participants were Irish but there were many Englanders and a couple of Scots there, too.

It was indeed a gruelling effort. The course is described as hard and hilly - and it is - but with the extra feature of a stiff westerly wind straight off the Atlantic progress was at times pedestrian. Or indeed sub-pedestrian. The things we do in our leisure time! It was, in spite of it all, a really fun and memorable event. We both did OK, too.

Post run we were again allowed to get warm and dry in the community centre where some local kids selling coffee also did a booming trade. 

Thereafter most of the participants walked, or were shuttled for free in the islands community van, to the one and only pub on the island where, you'd have to think, the islands GDP was instantly enhanced by about 600%

We (and a handful of others) weren't particularly keen on the prospect of being tanked up for the return ferry journey, so instead explored the island on foot. It's a charming place. The population is around 180 and the ones of that number we met were extremely friendly and welcoming. Apart from the parkrun influx on Saturdays the island is reportedly extremely lightly touristed and the proliferation of gringos on Saturdays is still seemingly a genuinely welcome novelty.

The islands geology is impressive with huge slabs of limestone dominating much of the landscape. This is, I've read, a continuation of the world-famous Burren series of rocks. In the places that soil has developed, it's clearly very fertile and supports many (obviously sustainable) pastures and meadows. Drystone walls are a massive feature and criss-cross the island entirely. Many of the enclosures are tiny with the ones containing cattle rarely accommodating more than two or three animals.

A couple of iron age / medieval Duns in good repair also made for an interesting wander around and we constantly came upon features like decommissioned water pumps and miniature shrines tucked away in less-than-obvious crevices. There were also more than a few archetypal abandoned cars left to their rewilding fate, presumably wherever they'd expired (an extremely common small-island phenomenon). 

All together, Inis Meáin proved to be a feel-good and welcoming place of serendipitous discovery. We really enjoyed it!

Come 4.30pm we had to once again brave the crossing back to the mainland, which - happily - was a much smoother affair. We were even able to spot a few birds out to sea with guillemots, black-throated divers, Manx shearwaters and fulmars all featuring.

Back on the mainland the grey mizzle returned in earnest so we decided to simply make the 15 minute journey back to the spot we'd stayed last night to get properly cleaned up, warmed through, and eat our own bodyweight in treats.

Kudos to the truck for allowing all these things to happen totally uncomplainingly.

Post composed at 22:15 on Saturday 25th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.04569°, W 09.29081° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.04569%2C-09.29081 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 9 - Random Images

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 8 - Ireland

Last night's stopover proved to be a good one, notwithstanding being awoken in the early hours by a barking fox. Emma proclaims with some confidence that given the time of year it was more than likely a worried vixen trying to maintain contact with / control over increasingly confident cubs.

A wander around at breakfast time threw up a couple of crossbills and an Irish hare.

The morning's drive was a steady enough affair and it was a pleasure to head down some quiet roads with verges ablaze with the vivid and contrasting colours of montbretia, fuchsia, oxe-eye daisy and ragwort. Less appealing was the prevalence of roadside litter chucked out of cars. We've noticed more than we're accustomed to on this trip across several counties and wonder if there's something of a rot setting in.

Approaching lunchtime we arrived at Doolin in order to check out the parking and access scenarios before we catch the Inis Meáin ferry from there tomorrow. It was horrible. The settlement of Doolin itself was pretty enough but the hordes of tourists and overcrowded roads / obstructions caused by idiotic parking was just bespoiling and stressful. Goodness knows why this ostensibly fairly typical town is quite so attractive but it was just rammed. And then rammed again. Not helping were more than a few utterly selfishly parked camping cars, including the one in the pic, which took up no fewer than four parking bays ... in which only cars were allowed to park. How thick or unashamedly ignorant do you have to be? I so hope the chump was clamped. #vanlifenob

Anyway, post horror-fest we both did something of a training session, Emma ran and I biked. The bike, as is very often the case, turned out to be our saviour in terms of finding a decent overnighting spot. Between us we rooted out just about the only place for miles around that would serve. Unsurprisingly, it's the spot shown in the coordinates. It's a quiet and secluded one that's off a forest track with huge views over surrounding plantation, clearings and agricultural land. We've seen nothing particularly unusual but it has been good for common hawker dragonflies and stonechats.

Post composed at 21:50 on Friday 24th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.04576°, W 09.29073° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.04576%2C-09.29073 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 7 - Ireland

Last night's stopover was superbly peaceful and made for a splendid early-morning birdwatching session. There was nothing new or rare to note but plenty to see and enjoy.

The morning's drive was pretty uneventful but for taking the Tarbert to Killimer ferry over the Shannon (pic), which cuts out something like a 200km round trip from terminal to terminal. Pre-booking this service online saved 10% and it also saved around a further €5 to book as a a lorry rather than a motorcaravan. Total cost was about €26; well worth it.

From late morning to mid-afternoon we dawdled around the general area surrounding the picturesque town of Kilkee and took some time to enjoy the  spectacularly rugged coastline thereabouts. The Diamond Rocks area in partially was impressive. We weren't alone, though; the area is obviously something of a honeypot and was rammed with international tourist of mainly German, Dutch and French origin.

Camping cars of all shapes and sizes were extremely prevalent so we didn't hang around but instead found a spot further down the coast where we were better able to enjoy the vistas and lunch alone. Emma-the-Indefatigable also had a spin out on the bike from here. I watched the sea for a couple of hours and though there were decent numbers of birds around (including fulmar and guillemot), I didn't see any cetaceans.

The theme of zillions of camping cars continued into the early-afternoon's drive as we bumbled north along the coast. It was pretty obvious that it would be a real challenge to find anywhere to respectfully and legally overnight without being joined by very non-like-minded people, so we headed inland a bit and after a bit of a forage came upon the spot shown in the coordinates. It's extremely quiet here and, as well as the expected birds, we spotted a fox cub close by.

The proliferation of camping cars and ever-increasing number of height barriers and 'No Overnight Parking' (and similar) signs are things that have changed massively in Ireland in this past decade. Some of the antics we increasingly see now do not indicate a healthy trajectory, either. One car park we passed today that was meant for visitors to a derelict castle was absolutely rammed with German, Dutch and English motorhomes that were up on ramps with awnings etc out, leaving absolutely no room for anyone in a car to park to see the castle. Another antic was a line of motorhomes parked overlooking the sea on a linear bit of road that completely blocked the view of the sea that would normally be a afforded to of a series of adjacent houses. Such capers are just plain selfish, ignorant and ultimately self-destructive. 

It's probably fair to say the best days of untainted travel by motorhome around Ireland's coastline at least, are well-and-truly behind us.

Post composed at 22:00 on Thursday 23rd July from our intended overnighting spot N 52.80376°, W 09.27632° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:52.80376%2C-09.27632 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 7 - Random Images

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 6 - Ireland

After the shady peat winners had finished releasing sequestered carbon last night, we thereafter had a restful and unmolested stopover. 

This morning started with a visit to the nearby Kanturk castle; an imposing and really well presented relic that's still in really good condition. It was a pleasant visit. There were a few information boards dotted around but no formal visitor facilities and no charge. We were the only ones there. 

Shortly after, we passed through Kanturk itself; a well provisioned little town. Emma decided to stop off to seek out some authentic Irish artisan cuisine. She's a bit of a foodie (not infrequently dining at Michelin-starred establishments) and didn't want to pass over the opportunity to sample some of the local wares. After a bit of foraging she came back with a six-pack of Hop House 13 lager and a multi-bag of Tayto crisps. I supported her choices.

Taking on diesel was next, and at a price much better than on mainland UK at the moment at the equivalent of £1.45/l.

The afternoon saw us taking a steady potter up to the Shannon estuary to a place we've stayed before (coordinates). We both did an out-and-back run from here and then just settled in, catching up with a bit of life-admin and watching the world go by. 

Though it's not the most productive time of year for birds on the estuary I did spot a few greenshank, decent numbers of ringed plover, two grey plovers (one still in breeding plumage) and a few dunlin, again a couple of these were still in breeding plumage.

Post composed at 22:15 on Wednesday 22nd July from our intended overnighting spot N 52.56665°, W 09.53256° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:52.56665%2C-09.53256

 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 5 - Ireland

We had a peaceful night and a good start to the day with an early-morning wander around adding to the estuary's interesting-species list in the form of a handful of common sandpiper and a pair of greenshank.

And so, to Spike Island. The commute up to the shuttle boat terminal at Cobh was straightforward enough and we parked in a really excellent motorcaravan-specific facility near the dock area where 30 dedicated bays allowed 48hrs of completely free stay, complete with a decent view out over the bay and rubbish-disposal facilities. Chapeau!

Spike Island is an interesting place and one which is pretty well presented. It's history has certainly been a chequered one with its roles as fortress, transportation camp and prison being dominant and - over time - recurringly interchangeable. In a nutshell, it's a place where people have done bad things to other people - some of whom were thoroughly deserving of such treatment: but most probably not - for centuries. 

It's a place that's clearly popular with tourists but because it's a huge and rambling site it carries its visitor volume well enough. We didn't bother with any if the many guided tours that were offered but didn't feel we'd missed out as a result. On the contrary, having the freedom to roam meant we were able to spend some time looking out to sea and this threw up an excellent sighting of a large pod of bottle-nosed dolphins doing their thing in Cork harbour. Whilst looking out we also spotted Sandwich terns, common terns and a rock pipit.

Our arrival back in Cobh - which is a very archetypally Irish and pretty seaside town - saw us weaving back through hordes of tourists, many of them international (who had just that morning docked in one of the Aida line's lip-ships) and street artists galore. The street act we weaved past most widely comprised a couple of grown men dressed a leprechauns who, complete with greasepaint and booming Irish ditties, were dancing very badly to the point of occasionally staggering into a bewildered crowd of slightly frightened German tourists surrounding them.

Having scuttled past and escaped the visual and auditory assaults of Cobh's innumerable impromptu entertainers, we pretty much just drove to tonight's intended overnighting spot. That entailed a traverse of the centre of Cork, which is something I never want to do again, especially in a truck-based camper.

Tonight's spot is a remote one down a track in the uplands. Or rather it initially appeared remote. We were enjoying watching dozens of painted lady, red admiral and the occasional ringlet butterfly (as well as many bees and other insects) feeding on trackside flowers when two tractors, one with a bale loader and one with a trailer pulled up in front of us. There then began what was clearly a very visible covert operation where the tractor with baler complete with three sturdy chaps would disappear onto the surrounding moorland only to return a while later with dozens of bags stuffed with pre-cut peat. The operation continued for about an hour in total until the trailer could literally carry no more. Of course, it may be that the gents had the rights of turbary and / or a rammed trailer does not constitute a commercial quantity of peat but - from an uninformed gringo's perspective - this all looked a bit sketchy. It was a stark but approximately equally sinister contrast to dancing leprechauns.

Post composed at 22:05 on Tuesday 21st July from our intended overnighting spot  N 52.02684°, W 08.81380° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:52.02684%2C-08.81380 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 5 - Random Images

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 4 - Ireland

Following the rather packed itinerary over the past few days - lots of it unforseen and unintended - we decided to have the mother of all short days today and arrived at tonight's intended overnighting spot at around 9.30am. 

It's a place we've used before and one which has traditionally proven a great base for both training and bird watching (pic). It's an estuarine spot and is steeped in cultural history, one component of which is that most of the silica clay used in the production of Wedgewood pottery originated here.

In terms of training, Emma did a 6.4 mile run and I had an hour on the bike. The roads hereabouts are very quiet and the vistas over the estuary all very twee. It's just a cracking place to be. It's also extremely popular with residents who visit in droves to walk, run, bike and just generally hang around. We've had a lot of interactions with locals today and without exception we've experienced friendly curiousity and well-wishes.

Let's hope those who travel in vehicles and unthinkingly rely upon those wretched TurnPlacesToShite-type apps never discover this one.

The day's species list has been comprehensive. There hasn't been anything super-rare but of the more noteworthy have been a few black-tailed godwits, a couple of dunlin, a whimbrel and a solitary immature Mediterranean gull. It's been great to have the time to watch birds just doing what they do and to witness the nuances of behaviour and interactions: real bird watching if you will: as opposed to crossing an entire country at breakneck speed just to cast eyes upon a sad and bedraggled off-course rarity in order to be able to tick a list.

The spot also sets is up really well for tomorrow's intended escapade: a visit to the former monastery, fortress and high-security prison on Spike Island. We learned of this place through the TV show Abandoned Engineering. It's another of those crumbling and foreboding kinds of dark-history places that Emma is genuinely intrigued by. I'll be watching carefully which priest hole / tunnel / dungeon she disappears into in order that the trip may ultimately continue without having to trouble search-and-rescue teams.

Post composed at 22:10 on Monday 20th July from our intended overnighting spot N 51.86080°, W 08.17388° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:51.86080%2C-08.17388 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 4 - Random Images

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 3 - Ireland

No cockerels overnight last night, but there were long eared owls! They regaled us from the surrounding mixed beech and coniferous woodland with their eerie piercing shrieks sporadically during the early part of the night, and again after daybreak this morning once we'd started moving around. We couldn't see them, but they were very obviously watching us.

The morning's drive through the Wicklow mountains was mostly extremely agreeable with only the very narrow roads, passive-aggressive encroaching hedgerows, and occasional oncoming vehicle requiring ambiance-diverting attention.

We once again enjoyed many of the beautifully presented houses of rural Ireland. These are often detached bungalows sitting in their own discreet grounds, comfortably distanced from their nearest neighbours. The level of maintenance of both house and grounds routinely betrays great pride and civility. Few are outlandish or pretentious, they're just fastidiously presented functional living spaces and grounds. Lovely!

Post lunch we sought out some access to the fantastic resource that is the Waterford greenway. This converted former railway line is just a sublime corridor for both wildlife and benign human recreation. Emma had an out-and-back spin on the bike while I had a short and steady run. We've used this greenway before but from it's western termination point rather than this particular eastern section close to Waterford. It's a gem and legitimately comparable to the rural cycleways of the Netherlands.

All that remained post training was to pootle to a known overnighting spot about 45 mins away to do a bit of birding and to come down, but fate had other plans ...

We were driving down the N5 at about 40mph when I sensed something awry. I slowed down and pulled to the left and, sure enough, a few seconds later I realised the front offside tyre was almost fully deflated. A few seconds after that it had broken the bead and shredded, completely trashing the sidewall. Great.

The next hour was one of dripping-in-sweat toil spent swapping in the spare wheel. The size, awkwardness and weight of these things is just about at the limit of my spectacularly average physiology. I seem to recall the assembled unit is something in the region of 130kg. Whatever, It isn't fun. 

This is the fifth friction, i.e. non-penetration puncture we've had over the years now but, significantly, the first whilst using innertubes of known age and provenance. This particular 16-year experiment is now officially over. The tyres are old and very well-worn anyway, so when (if) we get back, I'll be scrapping the standard split-rims and going over to custom-made rims and tubeless tyres.

Anyway, shellshocked, filthy and battered we did belatedly make it to a known spot where we now are - and coming down. It's been a pleasantly warm evening and as well as the more expected birds I've had a good sighting of a pair of siskins.

Post composed at 22:00 on Sunday 19th July from our intended overnighting spot N 52.04641°, W 07.66846° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:52.04641%2C-07.66846 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 2 - Ireland

The Park in the Past treated us well overnight and only a 4.00am cockerel conspired to disturb us. Of all the animals man has domesticated, this one has to be up there in the causes-of-wars rankings.

This morning's parkrun at the cockerel's venue was quite a challenging affair. It was run over very uneven terrain and conditions underfoot were a mixture of rough stones, deep sand and hard-packed but uneven grasslands. There was also a visiting running club in attendance, so the number and quality of participants was a notch above the usual caper.

Anyway, in spite of the terrain we both stayed upright, didn't ingest too much of the dust clouds that were thrown up, and generally performed OK.

Post parkrun we once again had a chat with the venue's owner / creative driving force and left with more than a little respect for his vision and endeavour.

Thereafter we picked up on the journey we'd originally intended to make yesterday afternoon / evening and bumbled to Holyhead to catch the boat to Dublin. It was incongruously windy in the port and the boat was not only running late but had to be held alongside with a tug. As an aside, I have a genuine admiration for tug pilots and it's one of the potential career directions I never took, but sort of regret not pursuing.

Surprisingly, the ferry was way busier than expected and literally every seat in every public space / cafe / bar / eatery was taken. Throw in at least a million badly behaved screaming children and it's fair to say it wasn't the experience we normally encounter and have come to expect. As a result of the melee I asked at reception if it might be possible to pay to upgrade and therefore be able to access what is effectively the proletariat-avoiding first class lounge area aboard. I was politely informed it wasn't a possibility as the lounge was up to capacity, but the bloke in charge did obviously recognise our trauma and handed us a ticket with the code for the Professional Drivers' lounge; so in very little time thereafter we'd managed to find a modicum of relative peace and tranquility.

The boat's late running and therefore late arrival in Dublin was compounded by a way more stringent than usual passage through customs and immigration. Not sure what that was all about but wonder if the recent violent protests inflamed by the issue of uncontrolled / uncontrollable immigration might have had a hand.

So, the various delays made for a much later than usual finish, which meant we didn't arrive at our current but previously-used overnighting spot until after we'd normally have gone to bed. Hopefully, from tomorrow morning onwards we can settle into an appropriate level of semi-organised chaos ...

Post composed at 22:30 on Saturday 18th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.04575°, W 06.27154° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.04575%2C-06.27154 

Inis Meáin Trip - Day 1 - Wales

For only the second time in nearly two decades (excluding the COVID-19 years), we aren't able to engage in an extended summer break this year as Emma has two separate friend-wedding responsibilities she has to attend to. These are also (I suspect conspiratorially) spaced in such a way to make any kind of road trip this summer as compromised as possible.

And so - and as has frequently been our saviour in such times of compromise - we're Ireland bound.

Specifically, we're Inis Meáin bound. Some years ago we gazed longingly at the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland and vowed to try to set foot upon them (or at least one of them) at some point future.

Inis Meáin in particular increased the draw quite recently when it started to host one of the most logistically-challenging-to-accomplish parkruns in Europe. Factor in that Emma is also looking to complete the parkrun alphabeteer challenge and needs an 'I' and, well ... this stuff writes itself.

And so, Ireland bound we are. Today was basically just a case of heading towards the ferry terminal at Holyhead for a sailing tomorrow afternoon and knocking off a Welsh parkrun en route. We had actually intended to make it to at least the Bangor area today, but such was the state of the crumbling infrastructure, idiotic driving (not mine) and consequential consistently massive queues on the M62/M6/M56 that it took four hours to get to the point we would have expected to reach in only two.

Good job Andy Burnham will have all the UK's social and infrastructure problems sorted by next Monday afternoon.

Tired and fed up with both queuing and prats, we turned to Plan B, which turned out rather well. We basically headed for the parkrun venue of Park in the Past just over the Welsh border. This site, we have discovered, is not only a parkrun host but the site of many-a-leisure pursuit, as well as a labour-of-love project engaged upon by the site owner who harboured aspirations to create a full-blown replica of a Roman Fort. Well, why wouldn't you? 

Upon arriving at the venue at around 5.00pm we pulled into the car park intending simply to recce the layout for tomorrow morning. Long story short, we met the site owner, crossed his palm with a paltry amount of silver and immediately settled into our (lock-in) overnighting spot at the coordinates shown

The parks quite an oddity. As well as the very ambitious fort project, there are watersports activities here, good and productive nature habitats and many-a-replica structure where the Live Action Role Play (LARP) brigade do that slightly unnerving thing they are wont to do. We expect to see some in fully costumed and creepily disturbing action tomorrow during our post-parkrun visit to the fort. I may take some pepper spray.

Post composed at 21:30 on Friday 17th July from our intended overnighting spot N 53.11955°, W 03.04734° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:53.11955%2C-03.04734