Dublin: Ballyconneely III

For the third time I found myself in the privileged position to pay a visit to one of my favourite places in Ireland. Tucked away in the bog lands of western county Galway, with the Atlantic on all sides, and the mainland dotted with lakes, lies the sprawling village of Ballyconneely. This time however I didn’t find myself being driven across Ireland in a slick BMW (Padraic) or sporty Alfa Romeo (Aidan), as my bike and I boarded the 18:30 train to Galway city last Friday evening. Given the beautiful weather we have had in Dublin over the past weeks, I was under the impression that summer had finally come to Ireland. Well, it has come to Dublin. The west coast is a completely different story. And since I cycled from Galway to Ballyconneely, that mattered.

Saturday morning, eight o’clock. I wake up, bewildered, realising it’s an hour later than I had intended to rise. Since I had been nagging the owner of the place about breakfast ‘as early as possible’ and her response that ‘the earliest I can do for you is half seven’ I felt slightly guilty. An hour later however I found myself well fed and properly equipped on my hybrid, with a backpack full of bananas and sports drinks, repair kit and hand pump included just in case, heading off west on the coastal road. Four hours later I arrived at Melani’s place. Soaked. Whatever rain I didn’t see in Dublin since coming back from Albania, well, I caught up with that last Saturday, as an INCESSANT DOWNPOUR accompanied me for AT LEAST half the time on the road. Ok… ‘incessant downpour’ might be a bit of an exaggeration, as it didn’t quite compare with the showers I remember from the rainy season in New Delhi. There, when the first mega droplet exploded in the dust right in front of your feet, you knew you had five seconds to look for shelter lest you might as well jump in a pool with all your clothes on. So it wasn’t that bad. But then again, it wasn’t 40 degrees Celsius, as in Delhi. It was just warm enough not to be cold when working your way through the gorgeous landscape of Connemara. Cause whatever wind and rain is thrown at you, the scenery is still very pretty.

Arriving at Melani’s place I got a very warm welcome and a very welcome warm lunch. An hour later, with food in my belly and after a hot shower, I felt reborn like a phoenix and happily sat down to prepare the ingredients she would use for making pancakes at the Roundstone market the next day. Glad to be at least a little bit useful rather than being just a freeriding liability I sliced ham, peppers and onions while Melani prepared the batter. Later in the afternoon we were joined by Joane and her niece for a walk in an area I forgot the name of, whereafter Melani and I stocked up wine and bites for the evening and sat down at a cool pub at the bay for a pint. What had hitherto appeared to be a remote and sparsely populated area to me, which it is to be honest, I now got a flavour of the very active community that lives there and the range of nationalities that jointly make for a nicely varied crowd. From the old lady in the supermarket who told us to ‘stop arguing’ to the chatty people in the bay-side bar, the people in Connemara seem an assertive and happy bunch. Meanwhile the rain was only intensifying, which by now didn’t matter anymore as really all we were going to do was sit inside, eat, and drink.

A lovely dish prepared by Joane, in conjunction with Melani’s oven-grilled chicken, proved more than enough food to satisfy the appetite of four adults and four kids, with the leftovers being enough to feed an orphanage for a week. Irish coffees (plural) for desert and a wide variety of red wine completed the culinary experience and it was well after midnight when we called it a day. Melani offered Nick a bed for the night so he wouldn’t have to drive home and I am quite confident to say that we all feel asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow.

The next morning I was woken up by a cat that climbed on top of me. With the wind howling outside and my tongue feeling like a dried piece of leather, the prospect of cycling another 100km back to Galway didn’t particularly appeal to me. With Melani off to the market and me sitting in an empty house I decided that if I was going to cycle the whole way back I might as well start straight away. Great views and great weather lasted for about 20 minutes whereafter the clouds moved back in and I took the N59 back to Galway (back home I had been too lazy to navigate the way back which forced me to take the main road). Fortunately the wind that had been quite a challenge on the way there had only gained in strength and was now pushing me back east. Going 30 km/hour there was no need for me to do any work all the way Oughterard with a strong tailwind pushing me through the rolling hills. From there the road turned which made the last 25km the hardest ones, but all in all the three hours cycling back weren’t quite as challenging as the first leg had been. Luckily, as my body wasn’t quite up to it. Arriving in Galway well ahead of schedule, the staff of Kinlay hostel proved that my previous positive experience with them wasn’t a one-off as they let me have a shower and hang out in the common room free of charge. There’s worse ways reminiscing a great weekend and a nice exercise than in a soft sofa, reading the economist and sipping a can of coke. Six o’clock, tjop tjop back on the train to Dublin, and home at nine. Cycling in Connemara, even with atrocious weather, well worth the trip. Thanks Melani for the great stay!!