LONG POST ALERT
I have now ridden Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way three times. June 2020 was a solo run from Kinsale to Derry, just after Covid lockdown with many of the restrictions still in place. I then took part in the Transatlantic Way race / ride (TAW) in 2022. I started on the long(er) route, but after 4 days of very slow progress due to winds I switched to the short(er) course. This gave a total distance of 2100km as I only saved myself 300km after covering a lot of the out-and-backs in Donegal and North Mayo.
I was determined to have another try, but in 2024 the TAW start time switched from June to August and it was going to be impossible to get time off then. June it would have to be and Adrian O’Sullivan, the mastermind behind TAW agreed to let me enter on an individual time trial.
My start date had to be postponed by 3 days due to my uncle’s funeral in England; we all flew out of Dublin to Bristol on Monday 2nd and drove down in rented cars to Dorset. Julie, myself and my brother Peter flew back to Dublin the same evening. As you’d expect, the 2200h Ryanair flight from Bristol was delayed and I eventually got to bed at home in Newry at 0130h. Not ideal for an early start for the drive to Derry.
Henry and I had come up with an ingenious plan – as he and Liz were riding the route South to North, he took my car and drove it down to a friend’s house outside Kinsale. I would drive his beautiful VW van to Derry airport and they could therefore skip Derry city entirely by taking the ferry across the Foyle. The only problem with a Derry start is the drive to Derry – it’s a long way, whichever route you choose and the cycle from Derry airport to my start point at the Peace Bridge in the city centre is not one that I’d recommend. However, I eventually got away just after 1000h in a heavy drizzle. Tracker on, time noted on brevet card and selfie taken.
Day 1 – Derry to Letterkenny 190km 2387m
Hang on, I thought that Letterkenny wasn’t on the route? It isn’t, but read on. I’m afraid that I’m going to start moaning about the weather, but I’ll try to not make this the main theme of the blog. Wind, wind, wind -if you want to find the windiest part of Ireland then try the Inishowen peninsula. The route starts with a flat run along the coast but things take an abrupt change with a left hand turn that brings you up the Kinnego Bay climb. Wow. It’s at this point that you start to realise that you’ll be spending a lot of time climbing. The route meandered along to Malin Head; I was chased by a large dog downhill but thankfully he gave up before the road inevitably ramped up again. I ignored a closed road sign and was shouted off boiling Tarmac by the roadworkers before my tyres burst. Donegal road surfaces actually turned out to be the best on the entire route.
Apart from wind, the other feature of the county was the election posters for EU / local council elections. In Donegal, every candidate promised “100% redress” – I had become aware of this on the first trip up in 2020; a lot of houses had been built with poor quality concrete. As far as my limited understanding goes, the Irish government has allocated funding but with a cap on the total amount for a house rebuild (I think €450K) and second / holiday homes aren’t covered by the scheme. Given Karl Marx’s dictum that the private ownership of property is theft, I found it strange to see left wing candidates campaigning for State compensation to rebuild second homes. Donegal is a beautiful county, that has been largely ruined by one-off housing. Many of these houses lie vacant for most of the year as holiday homes. The other theme of the election posters was anti-immigration. One particularly unpleasant poster featured a cartoon of a queue of (brown) people entering Ireland with a queue of (white) people leaving in the other direction. I suspect that Donegal mightn’t be the destination of choice for most immigrants to Ireland but it did seem to be more of a concern for election candidates there than in other counties.
Anyway, back to the route – I did the infamous Mamore Gap at walking pace – I’m proud to report that I didn’t push my bike on any climb. The Lough Swilly ferry at Buncrana was the target – my optimistic hope of the 1520h sailing wasn’t realised and as I struggled on into the headwind it soon became apparent that 1640h wouldn’t happen either. Oh well, that gave a chance for a meal at the wonderful Circle K in Buncrana; it was so nice to get out of the wind for a bit. I hadn’t given much heed to the sight of a ferry tied up on the wrong side of the pier, maybe there were 2 running. It was still tied up when I rode down to the pier 10 minutes before the last sailing of the day at 1800h and there was an ominous silence. A Polish local was there with his son; apparently the high winds meant that there had been no sailings all day and there might have been an update on Facebook. The next sailing wasn’t until 1000h the following day, but no guarantee that it would even leave with no prospect of the wind dying down. That left only 2 options – stay in Buncrana overnight or ride the 40km to Letterkenny and rejoin the route at Rathmullan, which was a further 25km on from there. I know that busy road well and I didn’t look forward to the prospect. I was tired and cold and I decided to cut my losses by staying overnight in Letterkenny. I had made a good friend with Steve Bishop on the 2022 TAW and he had driven all the way up from Belfast to photograph me at the first checkpoint at Fanad Head that night, sorry Steve. We dined together in comfort at the hotel.
This was where I nearly quit – OK, my car was in Kinsale and I had to get it some way, but the obvious option was to ride the Barnsmore Gap out of Letterkenny, skip down to Donegal town and get quickly into Sligo. I could then ride the bits I really loved, especially Connemara, Kerry and West Cork and skip many of the tedious and unappealing bits of the West of Ireland. Everything seemed to be going wrong – the postponed start, grim weather and this extra delay from the ferry. But I’d come here to ride the TAW and lots of people were supporting me and wishing me well. Better do it, but the only option would be to move to the short(er) route. My holidays were fixed and I had to be back at work by the 12th. It was an easy choice, with zero regrets.
Day 2 – Letterkenny to Sligo 345km 4487m
An early start after a decent night’s sleep in the comfortable hotel got me to Rathmullan without too much difficultly. I’ve no idea if the ferry ran that day but it certainly hadn’t got any less windy. This was a long slog of a day and memory is already fading a bit. It’s a nice run from Rathmullan up to checkpoint 1 at Fanad Head but it’s pretty steep. Fanad Head was deserted apart from a single camper van and no chance of a food / coffee stop at that time of the morning. I was glad I hadn’t pressed on into this wild countryside last night. I crossed the Blaney bridge – this is a remarkable piece of infrastructure that connects two bits of nowhere to each other. Carrigart was the morning’s stop for coffee / breakfast roll; there’s friendly Centra shop but the town is seriously grim and the cold wind and heavy squalls of rain didn’t improve the place. I stayed on in the shop for a second cup of coffee; several outer workers came in for breakfast and shelter from the storm as well, all with the same tale of gloom and misery about the conditions. Lovely route through a quiet valley past a shrine up into Glenveagh – this is one of several national parks in Ireland. Long, quiet climbs and eventually into the castle area itself by a gravel walking path. Then came a seemingly endless climb on a bigger road into the Poisoned Glen (got to love Donegal). After Ardara came another fearsome climb that I knew well – Glengesh Pass. The rain showers had been fairly brief up to that point but I got a serious soaking on the way up. I sought shelter in a shed but the floor was ankle-deep in filth so that didn’t work. Another drenching on the way down left me shivering with cold; on the way into Killybegs I stopped in another (dry) shed to put on every single layer of clothing that I was carrying.
I had a hotel room secured in Sligo and I was able to phone them to tell them I’d only be arriving after midnight, with 24hr reception there they said that was fine. After food in Killybegs I pressed on and darkness fell somewhere around Ballyshannon. I passed the house where my grandparents had lived in the 1930s/40s, both Dad and Uncle Ronnie were born there. I rode the utterly pointless Gleniff loop in pitch darkness and then mostly downhill on the main road past the church where WB Yeats is buried into Sligo. Temperatures were as low as 4 degrees and my breath steamed in the cold but at least it stayed dry.
Day 3 – Sligo to Achill 189km, 1476m
My Strava report tells me that levels of enthusiasm were not high for this section. Roads here can be busy and the quieter coastal road in straight and rather featureless. Ballina was a welcome break, I like the place and Supermacs for lunch was ideal – cheapish, quick, clean and warm. Back to the North Mayo coastal roads via Ballycastle. Cromwell’s quip about Connaught came to mind – not enough wood to hang a man, not enough water to drown a man and not enough earth to bury a man. I can see his point – if it wasn’t for the rhodedendrons and giant rhubard that have somehow colonised this part of Ireland the place would be a desert. See Henry’s blog entry about Bangor Erris, there’s no reason in the world why anyone would go there. However, the big advantage of doing the short(er) route was that I wouldn’t have to visit Belmullet / Blacksod lighthouse – this was a real low point of my 2022 trip. I’d booked a B and B in Achill; my original plan had been to bivvy out most nights but the cold wind was driving me indoors most nights and I had developed saddle sores that needed attention, mostly by showering and being able to wash my bib shorts. I think there was only one other guest in the large B and B, the host was an Italian chap called Alex who made me very welcome; mamma mia was his main comment about the distance I had covered. An early self-service breakfast was no problem, with everything in the fridge. Once again, I slept like a log as soon as my head touched the pillow. I could of course have completed the 30km Achill loop that evening but I really couldn’t face it
Day 4 – Achill to Cong 226.5km 1889m
I immediately regretted not having ridden the Achill loop the previous evening as I dragged myself out into the wind and rain. It was especially unpleasant to pass my B and B on the way off the island. Oh well. The Corraun peninsula was next; there’s a memorial to shipwrecks from the Spanish Armada there – you could just imagine being in a galleon going around the headlands of Ireland and seeking shelter in Clew Bay. Nice to get back onto the greenway at Mullranny – I’d already ridden out on it to Achill the previous evening. This brought me happily to Westport with a coffee stop at a Centra in Newport. Centras and Circle K garages provided very welcome refreshment stops – most have seated areas inside where you can charge your phone, washrooms and friendly staff who don’t treat you like the smelly vagrant you have become. It was lovely to meet Henry and Liz in Louisburgh for lunch. They had been making good progress at a slightly more sensible pace but despite their reports of sea swims from sunny, sandy beaches they had also struggled with the weather and were looking forward to a wise rest day in Westport. From my three rides on the WAW in June it’s pretty clear that you can expect weather to worsen as you approach Donegal; the advantage of doing it North to South is that things should improve as you move down. While you certainly couldn’t call their daily distance of 100 – 150km relaxed, the sheer scale of the route meant that they’re out on the road for a very long time. In fact, as I write they are still battling the wind of North Donegal and I hope that they’re OK. It’s not just the distance and the hills, it’s the constant daily exposure to wind that wears you out.
After Louisburgh comes one of route highlights – the lovely Doolough valley. What a place, I’d never heard of it before I went through it for the first time in 2020. Ireland is wonderful – no matter how well we think we know our little island there’s always new wonders to discover and cycling is the ideal way to do it. Then the road around Killary fjord brings you into Connemara national park. As I rode through the Connemara countryside, I passed a roadside chapel, real 1970’s architecture. The sign outside simply said Stop and Pray so I did. The church was empty but open – the sort of churches I attend ar usually closed except when there’s a service on. I sat down at the back and then I knelt in the silence. I was overwhelmed by the vastness and loneliness of the journey but I also found that I was very conscious of God’s presence with me. I was overcome with a sense of how greatly He loved me and of how my sins were forgiven through the Cross. I broke down completely and wept, on my own in the sanctuary. It was an intense and precious moment and, in the most unexpected way, possibly the highlight of my whole trip. A close pass by a rental Golf several minutes after leaving did nothing to disrupt the sense of peace from that short time.
The next decision was where to stay the night – I knew that rain was coming and this wasn’t going to be the best time to start bivvying out. However, the TAW route was taking me away from the tourist area of the West coast as it went inland of Galway – accommodation options looked scarce and I still had a long way to go to the next checkpoint. Cong looked the most likely spot – sadly Ashford Castle was a little outside my budget so I settled on a cheap room in a hostel. I managed to smuggle my bike up the steep staircase into the room, hoping that I wouldn’t kill myself by bringing it down in the morning. Cong is badly served for garages / Spar shops but I got a decent dinner in one of the pubs before the hostel. After killing several bluebottles and washing shorts / shirt, I settled down for the night.
Day 5 – Cong to Tarbert 296km, 2746m
The main checkpoint of the race is on a farm deep in Co Galway and it’s manned by Adrian’s cousin Ann. She is an amazing lady, who takes an enormous interest in the event and she gives a royal welcome to riders at every hour of the day and night. Mountains of food, a seat by the stove; what a wonderful treat. You’re past the halfway mark on either route by the time you get to Ann’s but I think that most riders are in a rather heightened emotional state by then and the shelter and encouragement she gives really keep us going. I tore myself away and moved into coastal Co Clare at Ballyvaughan. It’s a nice route through the Slieve Aughtry mountains / windfarm. I passed the most amazing selection of used cars in a tiny village on the way to the Burren – I have never seen so many high-end Mercs, Defenders and Range Rovers. Maybe it’s all above board and nothing to do with laundered drug money; I’ve watched too much Breaking Bad though.
Ballyvaughan to the Shannon ferry was a brutal time trial into a headwind – I thought I had plenty of time to get the 2100h final ferry but it turned out to be tighter than I had expected. Clare had the second worst road surfaces (after Cork) and I dug deep. I crossed into Co Kerry with a sense of achievement but Tarbert and the surrounding area isn’t really the best introduction to the county. A kebab / chips in a grotty takeaway provided the evening calorie replenishment and I took shelter in a hotel just outside the town. This turned out to be an Indian-run establishment and it reminded me of some places I had stayed in when we lived in Nepal / India. The price was definitely in Euro, not Rupees. Kindest to say that the hotel might have seen better days in the 1980s but it was much better than outdoors and I slept well again.
Day 6 – Tarbert to Ballylickey (Bantry) 310km 3370m
Kerry in a day. Tarbert to Tralee is best not described; it’s not a nice part of the country and the weather I got means that I’d rather forget the experience. Things improved after Tralee with the Connor Pass – I was overtaken by several classic cars out on a club run, even a Triumph Dolomite. At one time my parents owned two of these as family cars, both in vermillion red. This was in secondary school, when most kids’ parents had Ford Sierras. When I got to Dingle, I was flagged down by another cyclist who had been tracking me, what a strange experience, I felt like a celebrity. In the excitement I have forgotten his name but he guided me out of the busy town and generously paid for my coffee and snacks for the Slea Had loop. Despite his lean and fit appearance, he was actually on the renal transplant list and he was involved in fundraising for the Irish Kidney Association with the Ring of Kerry sportive. A real gentleman and while I was doing this ride for my own selfish reasons he was giving his time and effort for charitable purposes – as do so many sports clubs and organisations all over Ireland.
Slea Head was reasonably quiet compared with the last time I did it, only one bottleneck where two large Volvo SUVs had to squeeze past each other. Good to see quite a number of cyclists on rented bikes / ebikes; private car use on this popular tourist area needs to come to an end. Wonderful part of Ireland but the Star Wars connection hasn’t been good for traffic. I passed Inch strand, through Castlemaine for a refuelling stop at the excellent Post Office / shop that was still open at quite a late hour on Sunday evening. Over Beaufort bridge and then the Gap of Dunloe as evening fell – another real highlight of the route. Rain started as I descended the creepy Black Valley; electricity only came here in the 1970s but I suspect the name came long before that time, you wouldn’t want to break down in this area. Full of midges too. I rolled into Kenmare before 2200h; here came a decision, stop for a B and B or press on over the Healy Pass? I knew that I still had a long way to go in Co Cork and with the finish line in sight I wanted to get things done by the end of the following day. I summoned up my resolve and tackled the Healy Pass. This was the second time to descend this in the dark, in fact these final two days were very similar to 2022. Healy Pass must be the closest thing in Ireland to an Alpine descent with long, sweeping hairpin bends and waterfalls; I must try it in daylight some time. Adrigole to Glengarriff after midnight was unpleasant – I had run into Steve there in 2022 and we had enjoyed late night chips in the town and camped together on Sheep’s head but this time I found myself forlornly sheltering from the wind in deserted Glengarriff. It started to drizzle again and this was to be my one night of bivvying out. My earworm song was Amy McDonald’s Where you gonna sleep tonight, things were looking bad. I tried the back of a national school – out of the wind but zero shelter; pressed on to a closed roadside garage – bingo. A covered laundry area, it kept me sheltered from a vicious storm and even the bike was under cover. I slept well for about 3 hours but at 5am it was time to press on.
Day 7 – Ballylickey to Kinsale 223km 2552m
This was a day of 2 halves. I know West Cork well from family holidays as a boy and it’s one of my favourite parts of Ireland. The early start meant a hungry ride out to Sheep’s Head – I was tempted to swim at Henry and Liz’s recommend spot of Gortnakilla pier, which was only slightly off my route at the Goat’s Pass but the second sheepdog attack of the trip put me off completely – I escaped unscathed but I would have had to face the brute on the way back if I’d gone for the swim. Sheep’s Head done, Durrus for food then a really nice route up to Mizen head. I was ready for lunch at Goleen after that, having again resisted a swim at Barleycove – I had swum there in 2022 but there was now a sign warning of rip currents, hmm. Anyway, despite the John Hinde appearance of sun and blue skies it was still very cold – maybe the lack of sleep didn’t help but I was still in buff, leg / arm warmers. Toormore, Schull and Ballydehob are old friends but then the route went pear-shaped with about 100km of torture through smelly Cork cow country. Awful road surfaces and dismal diversions. This final section was one point where I thought I would never finish; my knees hurt and the bike had developed nasty clicking noises from the bottom bracket so we clicked and groaned our way around the endless back roads. Such a relief to see Kinsale but the finish up the nearly vertical Barrack Hill saw me flat on my back staring at the sky as I phoned Julie and made my plans to get home. 1800km and 6.5 days, I had once again finished the TAW.
You’ve been very patient in reading so far, I’ve been humbled by the number of people who have followed and supported me and kept me going with text messages of encouragement. Thank you. I hope that this has maybe sparked some interest at riding even some of the Wild Atlantic Way, even if you think the full TAW is a bit much.
Would I do it again? I supposed I wouldn’t rule it out completely and the actual TAW event is well worth doing, especially with the friendships you make with the other participants. I love the self-supported aspect of these events – mostly self-regulated although the tracker also gives some enforcement of the rules. With the clock never stopping you become more efficient as a rider – it doesn’t matter how fast you ride if you fritter away hours with long meal stops for example. That said, the weather has been less than ideal in each June that I’ve done this ride and I’m tempted to try something similar in an area where weather is less predictably bad.