The Hills

Out for a bit of a hike with some American students, showing them a bit of the other side of Dublin.

 

Odd watercourse, beside the Chemserve building on Edmondstown Road - slows the water down. Just before it is what appears to be a mill race, but modern. No idea what the overall purpose is though.

 

Archway in the old Kilakee gardens in Lord Massey's.

 

Hellfire Club overlooking the city.

 

Pink ribbon fluttering in the woods of Tibradden. There was a second one nearer the summit, out among the heather on the bog.

Glendalough

 

Slightly over exposed, taken on my phone you see. Eastern end of the upper lake.

 

Lunch among the ruins of miners' village at the other end of the lake.

 

Ascending the waterfall that feeds down into the lake, looking back east.

 

Fun with position - lying on my back looking up.

Dollymount House

 

"A building popularly known as "The Long House," originally called "Dollymount," and at a subsequent period "Mount Pelier House" - a name which has caused it to be confounded wit the ruin on top of the hill. The original heavy gate pillars and stone walls along the avenue still remain, as also a couple of stiles constructed for the use of foot passengers when the approach was closed during the absence of the proprietors. The house is two storeys high in front, with six windows on each side, and over the hall-door are the arms of the Ely family, surmounted by a coronet. The rooms had marble chimney-pieces and stuccoed ceilings, some portions of which yet remain; and the windows commanded a beautiful view of the County Dublin, the city and bay, with Howth, Ireland's Eye and Lambay. On each side of the house was a large arched gateway, from which extended a long wing of out-offices, servants' apartments, stables, &c., terminating at each end in a square three-storied tower with embattled top and pointed windows. Over the door of the left hand tower was, formerly, the date 1763, inscribed on the keystone of the arch - probably the date of erection or commencement.

This establishment was built as a hunting residence by Henry Loftus, Earl of Ely, the Count Loftonzo figuring so Prominently in Baratariana, whose wife, Frances Munroe, was aunt of the celebrated beauty, Dolly Monroe, after whom the Place was called "Dollymount." It was originally surrounded and sheltered by a fine plantation of trees, some of which, mostly chestnuts, may still be seen to the left on approaching the building, and on the slope of the hill above it was a splendid wood of firs and larches, as dense as a tropical forest, not a trace of which now remains, the trees having been cut down and sold by a tenant who occupied the place after it had been abandoned as a residence by the owners."

From "The Neighbourhood of Dublin" by Weston St John Joyce, 1939.

River travels

 

My very wonderful hostess in Germany brought me on a small tour of part of the Rhine-Mosel valley. Day one was Tag der Deutsches Einheit, or Day of German Unity, celebrating German re-unification in 1990. We took in the Germania, a monument to the creation of what was essentially the first 'German' nation, after the Franco-Prussian war in 1870. After that we visited the rock of the Loreley.

 

Spent the night in Koblenz, under the shadow of the Kaiser at the Deutsches Eck. In the morning I toured the Ehrenbreitstein, a Prussian fortress at the Rhine-Mosel confluence.

 

As we headed toward Trier, we stopped off in Cochem to visit the Reichsburg, an impressive castle. We didn't quite make it to Trier though, camping on a site in a village called Pünderich.

 

We did manage a lightning tour of Trier the next morning though, the highlight of which were the extensive Roman baths, the largest north of the Alps. Trier also boasts a basilica, an amphitheatre, a huge Dom, as well as a few more bath sites and the Porta Nigra.

Heidelberg

 

Heidelberg, famed for it's scenic castle. The whole town really is quite pretty, in a slightly unremarkable way. I think I this point I had become desensitised to Germanic beauty. The town is fabulous really, but we had only a few hours, so we concentrated on the Schloß.

 

This I thought was quite spectacular. I couldn't take a picture that did it justice really. One of the rear towers of the Schloß had split in half, probably due to subsidence. The broken off half sits on the ground, a little lower than the still attached half.

 

The sun setting was quite brilliant, blinding us as we retreated down the main street to the car.

Mainz

 

Mainz is a beautiful city.

 

The settlement dates from Roman times (Moguntiacum), with this nameless general standing not far from the original gate into the city, at the Kästrich. Other remains include the mausoleum of Drusus, a theatre, a temple to Isis, ruins of an aqueduct and some ships housed in their own museum.

 

Mainz is also the birthplace of Johannes Gutenberg, inventor of the printing press. There's a museum, several statues and sculptures - indeed, even the city theatre is known as the Gutenberg monument. Incidentally, the plaza onto which the theatre faces contains a strip marking exactly 50° north.

 

Throughout the middle ages, Mainz was powerful through its Archbishops. They were the archchancellors of the Holy Roman Empire, and helped to elect the German Emperor. Besides Rome, Mainz is today the only diocese in the world with an episcopal see that is called a Holy See. The Archbishops of Mainz traditionally were primas germaniae, the substitutes of the Pope north of the Alps.

Oktoberfest

 

I would have to categorise our Oktoberfest experience as mostly... refined. Despite our relative youth, I think we're generally too sensible and responsible to go too overboard with alcohol. Before the festival kicked off, we headed south to the Starnberger See. A leisurely walk along the west coast included a visit to the Rose Insel, where the locals relaxed in the pleasant surroundings.

 

The Wiesn kicked off with a parade featuring plenty of lederhosen, before the first keg was tapped at 12pm Saturday.

 

We didn't actually manage to get inside any of the tents on the first day (nor indeed on the second day), so we enjoyed the views instead.

 

There's also a huge fairground as well as the beer tents. I had thought it would be a side show, but it's fully half of the festival, excluding the agricultural fair. The rides are of a pretty high standard, from rollercoasters to fun houses.

I know I'll be back to Oktoberfest later in life, and the only thing I'd do differently is to stay closer to the city in a hostel or hotel. A camping site full of Australians on the outskirts can be fun, but it's no way to get a good night's rest! And make tent reservations early... especially for opening weekend. It's just manic really.

Vienna

 

Vienna isn't a bad city. It's not ugly, nor dirty. It just seems a bit... bland. Boring almost. The buildings are quite pretty, the architecture is wonderful, and in some places breath taking. But it failed to move me. Perhaps I wasn't in the right frame of mind to appreciate it. Especially as after the first night I had a horrendous hangover. But we still made it out to see the magnificent Schloβ Schönbrunn.

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!