Arbour Hill

As part of Heritage Week, I wandered down to Arbour Hill cemetery for a small tour.

 

The site was historically a military prison, located just next to Collins Barracks.

 

And naturally the graveyard is the final resting place of many soldiers. Many didn't die in active service - one Lancer fell off his horse in the Phoenix Park; several drowned on a recreational cruise in Dublin Bay. This particular detail belonged to the stone of an Artillery soldier. The engraving around the icon reads "Anchored in the hope of Jesus".

 

The old schoolmaster's house is now home to the IUNVA - the Irish United Nations Veterans Association. A small but pretty garden contains a memorial to all those who were killed on service, in the Congo, the Lebanon, East Timor, among others. The house is a meeting place for old soldiers, and also contains a museum.

 

The real draw of Arbour Hill though, that which it is most famous for, is the 1916 memorial. It was here that fourteen participants of the Easter Rising were buried after being executed in the Stonebreakers' Yard in Kilmainham Gaol. Along with the seven signatories, seven other volunteers were executed, including Pádraig Mac Piarais' younger brother William. They were covered in quicklime, and interred in the corner of the prison's exercise yard. A British army officer kept a rough note of their position, and in 1956 a memorial was erected. It's a nice spot, despite the prison walls - it's still in use today, in a civil capacity. There is no military prison in Ireland.

There's another tour Tuesday 26th at 7.30pm, and on Sunday 31st from 11am-3pm, on the hour.

The Dodder

 

She's one of my many rivers - the mistress I always come back to, whom I always meet in the same place. Especially this weir - I pass it every day I travel to UCD, and then again on the way home. I always pause for a moment on the return journey.

 

It's not beautiful in my eyes, but something draws me to it. I've seen the water clean and I've seen it muddy. I've seen the water so high the weir essentially wasn't there. I've seen men fishing in it, dogs swimming in it, children wading in it, teenagers drinking beside it. I even once saw a body being pulled from it. It's like a little piece of home - something solid, something familiar. It goes through the seasons, but the essence of it remains the same. The same curve, the same flow.

 

Heroclitus said that you can't step in the same river twice (and someone else proposed that you can't step in the same river once), but this weir has remained the same for as long as I can remember it.

The Epic Cycle

7.20am (ish) It's bloody raining. Wow, did I choose the right day to cycle from one side of the country to the other. The first stretch to Loughrea is quite desolate and windy - there's a south-easterly wind, and the road to Loughrea is directly against it. Already I'm thinking I might turn back, stay in Galway one more night and then try again tomorrow.

9.30 Loughrea - the sky is a uniform shade of dirty grey. It starts bucketing down for about 20mins, and I end up soaked to the skin. Well, I have a rainjacket, so I'm okay up top, but my shorts and socks are saturated.
Need to wee. Consider weeing my pants. Decide not to. I don't want to smell of wee, and I probably won't get lunch if I do. What do professional cyclists do?

10am I try to change gears, but can't. The gears are too slippy, and my hands are wet and numb. I have a kind of Legoman-like claw grip.

10.30 Kilreekil - red van beeps at me for not cycling in the flooded bit of the hard shoulder, as he overtakes me at speed around a bend. Kilreekil being the scene of several fatal accidents over the past few years.

11am Aughrim - I consider booking into the hostel I did last year, decide to keep going. I think about stopping to check out the interpretative centre that I missed last year, decide I don't have time.

11.20 Ballinasloe - stop to grab some soup to warm up, same place I got my lunch last year! Change my socks and dry my boots under the hand drier in the toilets. 

12.40 Pass an Emo garage. Ponder catchy advertising slogans. Decided "Switch to Emo and watch your petrol bill cut itself" was best one.

1pm Cross over the Shannon, stop to admire the view. Notice a missed call from Jason. Turns out he passed me a little while ago.
Need to wee again. Consider weeing into the Shannon. Decide not to.

1.45 Stop the far side of Athlone. I undo the dressing on my ankle (I think it's strained), and let it breathe a bit. I take a swig of water, which tastes immensely of Galway. It's an acquired taste really. I'm pretty sure this particular bottle has no cryptosporidium.

2.45 Moate - stop for tea, really starting to feel the strain of cycling for seven hours or so. The next stretch to Kilbeggan is quite tough - it's only about 15k, but takes me about an hour.

4.20 Kilbeggan to Kinnegad is even worse. 30k of desolate dual carriageway. I'm not even sure if cyclists are even allowed, but it's only a national road. There are a couple of beeps. I take most of them to mean "crazy bastard", seeing as how they come from cars the far side of the road. Plenty of hard shoulder room anyway, so it's only the slip roads I really have to be careful on.
Need to wee. Consider going at side of the road. Decide not to. Too many cars about - I'll just hold it in.

6pm I reach Kinnegad, where the batteries on my GPS gizmo cut out. I pick some more up on the way to Enfield. The M4 takes over the dual carriageway, so it's back to the slightly windier national roads again.

7.20pm I arrive in Enfield, with hardly any strength left in my legs. My knees are screaming. I take a breather by the bus stop, where I can smell the Chinese restaurant... hoghmmm...

9.05pm I pause in Leixlip to put on my lights. It's starting to get dark, and I don't want to take any chances.
Still need to wee. Consider weeing in the bushes beside the canal. Decide not to. Too many joggers about.

9.10pm I cross the county boundary - huzzah! I follow the Leixlip road down onto the Lucan bypass, where there are roadworks aplenty. This means no hard shoulder, and with trucks passing inches from my ear, I got off the bypass and headed south, figuring I'll run into something I recognise.

9.30pm Realise I really don't know where I am. West Dublin is a maze of suburbs I've never heard of - Ronanstown, Adamstown and Foxborough. I know I haven't crossed the M50 yet. I check in at home, and Daddy tells me to head east. Eventually I see a sign for Clondalkin, somewhere I actually know. Then, a little further on, a sign for Tallaght, which is where I don't live.
Really need to wee. Consider weeing at side of road. Decide not to. Too many houses - I'll just hold it in.

10pm Discover I'm cycling down the Belgard Road, and therefore know how to get home - wooo!

10.25pm Get home, have lemsip and toasted ham and cheese sandwich. Reckon I've caught a cold with cycling in the wet, not to mention my own sweat. yay!
Still really need to wee. I wee.

Some thoughts... I've seen more roadkill in the one day than I have in the entire rest of my life put together. I think it was probably the first time I've seen a weasel in real life. Not to mention countless birds, a couple of cats, a fox and several small rodents.
Secondly, to those feckers who beep/shout at cyclists. Screw you guys, I have as much right to be here as you do!
Also, people in the country are much nicer and generally say hello as you pass. Makes you feel human again! :)
Lastly, a big shout out to those who put me up in Galway - danke schon and go raibh maith agat! To those of you who offered, there's always a bed for you in my house! Or at least a bit of floor. Likewise to those who texted while I was pedalling - much love!

Galway-Dublin Cycle

Day One - 21/05/2007

Started on Monday morning - loaded all my stuff for moving into the back of the parents' automobile, grabbed a puncture repair kit at the bike shop, checked my email one last time, then headed for Athenry at about 12 noon. I'd been cycling about half an hour when I hit a rusty bent nail that tore through my tube, and it took four patches to cover all the holes.

Once that was fixed, I cycled on to Athenry to check out some of the medieval remains - church, castle, town gate and an old Dominican Priory. There was a group of Germans in medieval garb wandering around the church grounds, which was odd, but it was all part of their tour apparently. Castle was nicely restored, if a little bare, and the priory was locked, with the key with a local nearby. I could've spent a few more hours trying to find the town wall, but after the delay of the puncture I wanted to keep moving.

On to Loughrea so - I followed what apparently was a direct route, but took me through Craughwell instead, adding a couple of extra miles to my journey. In Loughrea I stopped for a sandwich and a cup of tea with Brendan, an old friend, who took me down to the shores of Lough Rea and showed me what used to be crannógs, once upon a time. There's also a nice cathedral there - St Brendan's, did I mention Brendan is the patron saint of Loughrea? :)

From Loughrea I followed the N6 to Aughrim, site of the eponymous battle of 1691, where I was staying the night in a hostel. I arrived about 7pm, had a look around the village after checking in, but everywhere was closed, apart of course from the three pubs. I did find an interpretive centre, which I resolved to visit the next morning, and the remains of a church and accompanying graveyard, which was still in use. Quite a pleasant village though.

I ended up sharing a room with a Dutch lad called Martin - we talked over a cup of tea about the election and cycling. We exchanged a couple of stories and advice on where to visit, but I was fast asleep in bed by 10pm. I had been blessed with the weather by the way - absolutely gorgeous sun. I was totally unprepared for this though, so my arms and my right leg especially ended up quite burnt. I covered about 42 miles / 67km.


Day Two - 22/05/2007

I was awake at about 6am the next morning, but because the centre didn't open 'til 10am, there was no point in going anywhere. Then the centre didn't open. Nobody around at 10.15am, so I decided instead to pay a visit to a site a little north of Aughrim that I'd read about in a local directory in the hostel: Kilconnell, site of a Franciscan Friary that had fallen into ruin after the Battle of Aughrim.

Getting there was a little difficult, but luckily I made the right guesses, and the Friary was quite a site. I thought it was locked at first, but there was a little stile at the far end, and quite a bit of it is intact, including a majestic vaulted tower, a couple of very ornate tombs, and parts of the cloisters.

After that, I went to Ballinasloe where I got some aftersun (it was pretty overcast so I didn't bother with sun cream) and some sandwiches for lunch later. Then south to Shannonbridge - the nearest crossing point, where I encountered some unexpected artillery fortifications, built to guard against an invasion by Napoleon after the 1798 rising. From there I headed east to Clonmacnoise, which I'd long wanted to visit. On the way, I passed a well by the roadside, presumably dedicated to St Ciarán.

I took lunch in a field next to the monastery, surrounded by a castle, cows, the Shannon, and a large group of American students. Then I wandered into the monastery - very much a place of quiet awe. Two round towers, seven 'temples', a Cathedral, three high crosses, and numerous graves. About 500m east is the Nuns' Church, and I realised on the walk that there's a easy way of sneaking into Clonmacnoise if you *really* didn't want to pay.

From Clonmacnoise my next real destination was Kilbeggan, to get to Mullingar. The journey there through the backroads of Offaly was probably the closest I was to being lost, because there were periods where I wasn't too sure where I was or what direction I was heading in, but I knew just to keep going until I got somewhere where I could get my bearings. The boglands were a surprisingly spectacular sight - just acres of brown peat, with several ridges running through them, the railway on top of one. I also found St Manchan's Well - he's the patron saint of Leamanaghan.

I was aiming for a place called Togher, which was along the direct path to Kilbeggan, but instead I passed through Ballinahown, so I turned south. I arrived in Doon, not Togher, and decided to head east. There was no sign of Togher for quite some time, and it was only when Ballycumber appeared that I knew I was ok. I'm convinced Togher and Doon are the same place, it's about the only explanation! (Apart from the altogether more sensible one that they're merely very close together.) I cycled on through Clara, reaching Kilbeggan and the beautiful scene made by the Brosna beside Locke's Distillery.

To get to Mullingar I had to use the N52, and perhaps it was because of the late hour of the day and my low energy levels, but it seemed to be the most desolate wasteland of a road - no scenery, just tarmac and traffic cones. Lough Ennell is to your left somewhere, but you never get so much as a glimpse. Suffice to say, the twin towers of the Cathedral of Christ the King were a welcome sight at about 8pm.

I gave my good friend Conor a ring, and he fed me dinner and ice cream - kudos to him for the bed also. (",) The weather wasn't quite as nice as day one, but that was nice considering the sunburn. That night it was excruciating at times, and it was difficult to stand at times, so I kept slathering on the after-sun stuff. I covered about 66 miles / 106km. I had expected to only do about 50miles, so obviously my detour through the back of Offaly was longer than anticipated!


Day Three - 23/05/2007

From Mullingar, my plan was to follow the Royal Canal all the way to Dublin. Started off well at about 9.30am, through the path was just grass at times, which can get tiresome when cycling. I was managing well for a while, until the fences started. See, the Royal Canal is a public way, as are the banks either side. However, the farmers whose land backs up on to the canal obviously feel that in some way the banks are theirs, because they block it off with fences. They do put in pedestrian gates, but they're of the type that bikes won't get through, and 80% of the time the larger gates are locked. So every five minutes or so I had to stop, get off the bike, lift it over the fence, then get back on and start again. For cyclists, this breaks any momentum you build up, and when your arms and legs are burnt (and you have no upper body strength anyway :P) lifting my not-ultralight bike is no fun.

So just before Enfield, having being thwarted by a herd of cows, I decided to take to the road again, following the N4 through Kilcock and Maynooth to Leixlip, where I got back on the canal again. This time there were no fences, apart from the occasional one at a road crossing. The locks were also more frequent, especially as one got closer to the city centre. I passed three junkies at a lock in Castleknock, and one of them was only wearing a g-string. :O Thank heavens I only saw him from behind, I can't bear to think the psychological effect of seeing the front would've been! But apart from that, the locks made for nice scenery, especially those with the lock-keeper's cottage still in use.

When I got within the Dublin county line, the path had narrowed considerably, with trees blocking out the light overhead, and the canal like a stagnant ditch 15-20 feet below. I became quite energised at this point, flying along the path trying to avoid the roots and stones - like biking in Wicklow or something, there were no signs of the city. I passed over the M50, and got to Drumcondra by about 5pm. Having stopped for breaks for only about an hour overall, it'd been quite a physically exhausting day. However, I was only in my granny's, and I reckoned not cycling all the way to my actual home would've been cheating in some way, so I hopped on the rothar again and got to my bed within the hour. Day three - 60 miles / 96km, making a total of about 168 miles / 270km. *phew*