Enduring the never ending rain

        As I packed it in for the evening, the sky opened up once again.  The tent has kept me dry even during the most severe rain storms. Something about the rain when I am hunkered down for night, knocks me in no time.  Of course, the mattress needs to be inflated just shy of full and the travel pillow needs to be supplemented with my fleece just eight. Camping is not a primitive affair; if done properly, it is quite pleasant experience. It takes practice.

    The sun came out when I woke up, allowing me to dry things out and get on my way. Leaving Dungarvan,as with other towns, proved difficult.  I managed to do a big loop around the city thinking I was avoiding N25.  Four miles wasted and still I ended up on N25.  The road had no shoulder much of the time and the cars were flying by at 100 k.  The flag extending out on the bike's right side has given me more breathing room, nevertheless, it isn't fun keeping a constant eye on the cars coming up on me and bracing myself when they pass too close. The law is a meter and a half which is not enough. Anyone getting a driver's license should be required to ride a bike on a busy road for several hours.  

     My first attempt at getting off N25 landed me at the starting line of a car rally.  The cars were pure racing machines, vintage models, and they could tear down the road.  I hung around for fifteen minutes but had to find another safe route.  The R and L roads I found kept me guessing all day, going through one nowhere town after another. Younghal was the only town worth hanging around in but I had ridden to few miles and there were no campsites or hostels.  Continuing along required getting directions several times from people who spoke English of some sort. I have become an intense listener.

      The major downer for the day were the two out of three cloud bursts I got caught in with scant tree cover to shelter me.  Keeping my upper body warm and dry along with my shoes was all I could do; my shorts and bare legs got soaked.

At on point I laid the bike against some hedgerow and found cover across the street.  Moving along, the search went on all afternoon for a campsite or hostel. I finally made it to Middleton where there was a nice hostel. Because I have more time, I have been cutting the daily miles ridden down to the low to mid thirties. Today the odometer crested fourty-five.        

       Once off the bike and cleaned up, I checked out the city. The town has been around for a long time with many old stone buildings to show for it. Nice place.

        Tomorrow before riding to Cork, I need to stop at a bike shop and see about an annoying squeaking sound coming from my crank shaft. The poorly maintained back roads have been jarring me and the bike, causing me to ride slower and periodically tighten up loosened bolts. More lock tight might help along with better roads.