It was with a heavy heart I finally left the breakfast table.
And I only stepped up away from the table to see a tree being chopped down in next door's garden. It was a dangerous looking task, but after some nervous minutes, with the prospect of John's fence being crushed with no heed to the painstaking effort that went into painting it, the tree came thundering down landing safely in the owner's garden. The gap left a new view down the road, but an equally new and clear view into Marie's kitchen. We waved in case anybody was looking our way.
I reluctantly packed up my bike. It was sad to be leaving this hospitality. It wasn't long before I was ready to go. The bike seemed to weigh a ton. From the walking, I knew there was about three stone on the bike. I hoped it was strong enough. I carefully wheeled it out to the front garden. Everything was done. I was ready to get going.
Marie and just about all her family were there to wave me off. Suzanne was working away. I said my goodbyes and gingerly started cycling. I was concerned that, with the weight, the tires might puncture with a dramatic couple of "pops" within the first few meters. Or maybe the weight would make the bike wobble uncontrollably as I moved down the road and I'd end up crashing headlong into a neighbour's garden. The scene was definitely set for an embarrassing disaster whilst being encouragingly waved off.
I moved a little faster. I peddled. The bike was rock-solid. The air stayed in the tires and I cycled down the road, confidently and in control. As I neared the T-junction I looked behind one last time. Marie, John, Stephen and Evin were waving valiantly. I waved triumphantly. I was on my way. It was sad to be leaving them but the encouragement I soaked up in that few minutes lifted my spirits and drove me on. I peddled on, in great form.
From the very beginning I planned to do this final leg - the cycle journey from Limerick to Mizen Head, in three days. Sometimes in the couple of years before the trip I wondered if I could make it in two days. But I had decided by now that I was going to do it in three. I wasn't on this trip to race. I wanted to travel, to experience, to journey, to enjoy. My target today was Kanturk. That should be achievable, without too much pain.
I cycled the back roads out of Raheen, and down south on the small "third class" roads - the yellow roads on the map. I passed the N20, through Derrybeg and on down to Monaster, Athlacca and Bruree. The weather was fine, the terrain was flat and the going was good. I got to Charleville and stopped for lunch. I was able to lock my bike to a pole outside the window and get a table by the window,
After lunch I cycled out of the town, taking various small roads which zigzagged the way down south-west towards Kanturk. I had to concentrate hard to avoid going astray but my map-reading worked well and I eventually got on the main road to Kanturk when there were no other small roads to take.
I cycled into the town and looked for a hotel or B&B. I got the number for a hotel near the town but there was no answer from that. It turned out it was closed. I found a B&B but they had no room available. They suggested the only other B&B in the town. I tried them but they were full. I was passing by a butcher's shop so I stopped and asked if they had any ideas for a B&B. The people in the shop were extremely helpful and got out their "Golden Pages". There was only one B&B in the direction I was going. We tried the number but it just rang out.
I cycled up the road, going out of the town, and found the only clear space I could find. I knew I had my tent and could camp in that, but I didn't want to camp. I got off the bike, left it against the wall and looked at the clear area. It wasn't really suitable at all. It was like a factory site that had been left to run down. There was rubble and rubbish everywhere. I suddenly started getting very cold. I sat against the wall and started getting very down. I thought about cycling off and looking for a better place to camp, but remembering my experiences while walking I reckoned I could be cycling for miles without finding somewhere suitable. And I simply didn't want to camp. It might have been the relentless exercise and physical strain of fifteen days of continuous effort, but for some reason I wanted better than a tent. I started feeling worse. My spirits were dropping alarmingly fast. All enthusiasm was gone. I felt miserable.
Experience has taught me that your state of mind during a hard physical task such as this is very much linked to your physical well being. The physical exercise can reduce blood sugar levels. That can lead to getting cold. It all results in low spirits, and a lack of enthusiasm. I rationally concluded why I was feeling like this and knew I had to do something about it. I forced myself to feel better. I told myself to get going, to get enthusiastic. I forced myself back on the bike and tensed my muscles. Another big effort was called for. I grabbed the handlebars and peddled hard, back towards town.
I got to the centre of Kanturk once more and asked for the local Garda station. I was directed about a half-mile up a steep hill. It was definitely going to be uphill. I smiled to myself and pressed on. I walked into the police station and explained my predicament. My first choice was a B&B, but my next question was if there was any flat grass out the back for a tent - if it came to that.
The police were very helpful. Various Gardai, both uniformed and plainclothes, came out from the back office to offer suggestions. We ruled out the B&B's I had already tried. The only one left was the one where there was no answer. In desperation I tried it again. A lady's voice answered. Yes, there was room. I was thrilled. The Gardai gave me directions and I thanked them in earnest.
Back on the bike, I was facing a nine kilometer cycle to the B&B. Twenty minutes earlier, just getting on the bike was a struggle. I wouldn't have been able to cycle one kilometer, but now I was in tremendous form and as strong as ever. The thoughts of a luxurious bed at the end of the effort is incredible medicine. I found strength from deep within, and cycled on purposefully. The first six kilometers didn't bother me because they were in the right direction, so I was taking distance off tomorrow's journey. I got to Banteer and turned left, which was now going out of my way. But what of it?! A bed, with a real pillow, was beckoning. I enjoyed the journey and enjoyed the nice quiet evening on a country road. Eventually I saw a sign for the Agherton Lodge B&B and cycled up the path. It was a fabulous looking house in a terrific setting. The horses in the grounds made me think of Josh. He'd love this place.
I was directed to the shed, to leave my bike, and was watched by a very inquisitive big friendly dog. The lady showed me to my room, in the big modern, luxurious house. It was just perfect. I sat on the bed and while looking around in the fabulous room, and looking out the window at the horses in their paddock, in a tree-lined setting, surrounded by fields, I was very conscious of how my predicament had changed. Less than an hour earlier I was tired, hungry, cold, miserable and physically and mentally going downhill fast. I changed that situation by forcing myself back on my bike. Or maybe I was pushed. The reward was huge.
I showered, changed, and went downstairs to the television room. The B&B owner asked me if I needed anything. I politely asked for a bowl of Rice Krispies. I thoroughly enjoyed them and relaxed for the rest of the evening, before eventually going to bed. I cycled 84km that day. Another day done, another new place reached. Despite the fact that I had just two days to go, it didn't feel like the journey was ending. The journey was going on. I climbed into a very nice bed, and fell into a deep sleep.
