A day off

      It must be the weather. Rain, wind, cold, uncertainty about being in a strange land but I find my body not coping with the long distances as well. Because of the cool weather I am reluctant to stop just anywhere; chilling down in the middle of nowhere can be dangerous.  My forearms have been feeling the exertion more than my legs. All winter I worked out with my legs, not using the arm levers, instead read the news on my iPhone. Back to the arm weights.

      A bit worn down, in a nice village with a superb hostel convinced me I should shut down for a day.  I slept in, had a leisurely breakfast, hiked over to a lonely hilltop church and caught a ride over to Sleive League (where the cliffs are).  Two hours spent hiking up to the main viewing area was the hill climbing I did yesterday. Cliff, the hostel owner, who drove me there told me that hitching a ride back was easy.  Three rides as I walked along the open sheep covered hills brought me back to my hostel in less than an a view hours. The return trip included a lunch stop in Carrick. Sat down next to a woman on a sidewalk bench who seemed to be plugged into the pulse of the town.  A few teeth missing but everyone said hi to her.  Funny person: the sun came out briefly and she said to a passing student, that he should take picture of the sky so he could show his grandchildren in years to come what it once looked like here.  Add a thick Irish accent and perhaps you can visualize the quip.

       Met an older German couple and Irish fellow both cycling the country. Perhaps tomorrow on my way to Gungloe, I will ride one of them. It is refreshing to know I am not the only cyclist on the road braving the elements. The owner of the local pub (where I inbibed a few pints of Guiness) gave directions me out of town so I can avoid climbing the huge hill I flew down to the village on yesterday.  A forty-two mile ride awaits tomorrow including some challenging climbs

. The scenery will continue to be a show stopper. Onward.