Put on forty-one miles the long way. The round abouts are always th rowing curve balls at me. Studying my map and trying to make sense out of routes doesn't always work. First, a reasonably quiet road into Arlow, a hustling little town, had lunch and then took the wrong road just out of town. Several miles into it, the road transformed into N11. I loath the N roads, lousy shoulders, fast cars. Exit left towards the coast, very narrow roads which were often filled with patched potholes on top of patched potholes. Off N11 over to Balloughter, Ballybanew, down to Killmuckridge. Beautiful countryside, horse country; apparently Ireland is famous worldwide for its thoroughbred breeding. Even when the roads stink, the landscape is do serene and unhurried. Once again I found another wonderful campsite with the longest beach in Europe about one hundred yards away and twenty huge windmills on my left. Only eight Euros and I met a German couple who live in Switzerland. They have a modern VW camper, T5,, which I would love to own but another toy I don't need. As I walked by their site, 
they pulled out a chair and sat me down with very little ceremony. Out came the Smithwicks and we had a nice time talking about just about everything. Trump always creeps into the conversation everywhere I go. They are avid sailors and just had the boat of their dreams made for them. There is some huge lake they sail in somewhere around Zurick, I think.
Tomorrow it is Wexford and beyond.
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