Strong headwind, misty but a nice ride

     Though last night's B&B was a bit funky, the warm shower, comfortable bed  and delicious Irish breakfast did the trick.  The owner, an elderly woman (Bridget) was a kind person and made me feel very much at home. Yesterday I saw a wagon full of peat; this morning Bridget, who heated her house with it, explained how it was used. Three five gallon containers of peat a day heated the house, about the same BTU equivalent of seasoned hardwood.

    It rained for a good portion of the night but had stopped by 9:20.  Bridget, who opened the church across the street, wished me well and said she would say a prayer for me as she crossed herself. I asked her to say hi to the almighty for me.  From the onset, the wind was in my face so my progress was slowed.  Along the way I met up with several groups of cyclists doing their group rides through the countryside, no baggage and at a much more gentile pace than me. I was able to converse with one large French group. My French was terrible but a nice woman translated for me.  It was entertaining for all of us.  I think they appreciated my efforts to speak French and not just carry on in English as many Americans do. 

     Twenty-three miles to Clifden and my legs and arms were telling me I had done thirty. With my bike parked just inside a Super Val grocery store, I refueled. A man can in, inspected my machine and initiated a conversation on his former years of bicycling, nice guy.  An artist with a store front in the center of a busy tourist town, he knew the layout of the area. Wanting to put on at least another twenty miles, I thought Leenane was the place to aim for as a stopping point.  He said there were no campsite or hostels there but a few hostels

just shy of Leenane.  With his directions, I rode through dense mist, climbed two substantial hillls and slowed up the traffic as I wound way through a maze of curves.  Nothing like having huge tour buses twenty feet behind me waiting for the opportunity to pass.  The cars, trucks and buses have continued to treat me with care as they pass me. 

       My arrival at the hostel located above a majestic lake and mountain setting was a rewarding site for my fatigued body.  The receptionist set me up, showed me the layout and later cooked a pizza for me avec vin rouge. How good is that; laundry included as well.  The skies opened up shortly thereafter and I was one happy camper to be high and dry. Tomorrow is a crap shoot, finding a campsite or hostel within range has proven to be a challenge. Perhaps Ballycroy or Bangor will have some accommodations.