--- Alfred Tennyson, "Ulysses".
I didn't set my alarm but prepared to let myself sleep in, here in The Westlodge Hotel. And then I didn't sleep in too late. When I woke up I was very quickly wide awake. The excitement developed quickly within me. This should be the last day of my expedition. I should easily make it to Mizen Head today. Only about 40km to go. It wasn't that I was excited to get to Mizen, but excited to accomplish my target. Something to look back on and be proud of. A definite sense of achievement was within my grasp.
I got up and had a big breakfast - my usual feast of a big fry! Back in the room I packed all my equipment and managed to carry it all together down to check out. A quick walk past the kitchen and I was out the back door to my bike. Some of the kitchen staff were outside smoking or taking a break and were watching with interest as I loaded up the bike. Heavy packed panniers over the back carrier, tent across the back under the saddle, rolled up air-mattress next to the tent, sleeping back sitting on the top of them, all held tight to the bike with elasticated bungees. A handlebar bag was fixed to the front and a pump attached under the cross-bar. I was good to go. With the few people watching I was careful with the first few tentative peddles to avoid falling off!
I headed out onto the main road and went left along the N71. It was warm, sunny, with just a few clouds in the sky. My first checkpoint was the R591 and the turn to Durrus. This came quickly enough and I enjoyed the pleasant cycle along this smaller road compared to the busier N71. I stopped in Durrus to buy water, a postcard and stamp. There were lots of signs for The Sheep's Head Way. That's the way-marked route around the peninsular between Bantry Bay and Dunmanus Bay. Judging by the map it looks full of potential for scenery and a dramatic coastline. I told myself I'd come back and do that some day.
I peddled on down the coast road, with Dunmanus bay on my right, and eventually cycled on down into the town of Toormore, with a huge view of the Atlantic Ocean in front of me. I could see from the map that the section I was looking at is called the Celtic Sea. I hadn't known that. I passed a house with numerous boating buoys hanging in their garden, like decorations on a Christmas Tree. Very big decorations!
I peddled on out of Toormore and cycled on to Goleen. I was definitely getting close. When planning the trip, Goleen was one of the towns that became a significant landmark. I knew that if I ever made it to Goleen, I'd be on the verge of completion. I always knew that cycling into Goleen would be very satisfying indeed. And here it was - Goleen! It felt like I was finishing the trip. I looked around, looking for something in particular. I knew I'd find it. I knew there had to be one there. I planned for months to find this. And there it was - the first signpost for MIZEN HEAD ! I was very very close.
I took the small road to Mizen and cycled on excitedly. I was in terrific form. It didn't matter that I had spent the previous sixteen days pushing my body each and every day, putting in some strenuous effort - right now I was fit for anything. I wasn't tired at all. I peddled hard.
Although there weren't many big hills on the route, and my pace was fast, it was still taking forever. The day was dragging. I just longed to get to Mizen. I had expected this, which was why I had pushed to get as far as Bantry the previous day, but the time was really dragging. The excitement was intense. I was sorry there wasn't anybody there with me to share this joy, but being so close to my ultimate destination I was too happy to get sad!
The road went on and on.
I was looking for a left-hand turn.
More hills.
More bends.
Another sign up ahead. A left-hand turn. "Mizen Head 3km".
It was within my grasp. I could smell the sea. The road turned gradually around to the right, and then opened up a fantastic view over the sandy strand in Barley Cove.
The road was tiny, and there was plenty of traffic on it, particularly for the size of it. There were lots of people heading to Mizen Head. I had to be careful to avoid getting hit by a car, especially being so close to my final destination. Thankfully the drivers were extremely respectful and in sections where the road was too narrow for them to pass me, they held back and didn't put any pressure on me. I suspect they saw the large load I was carrying and figured out I had travelled quite some distance.
The road goes up around Mizen Peak, so it was quite steep in places. It was slow going. Eventually it leveled out in a long gradual turn to the right. The road got wide. I saw some cars parked. This was it. Mizen Head just yards in front of me. I was here! I had man-hauled myself the whole length of the country and here was the end right in front of me! I got off the bike and took a picture.
I cycled on and was surprised at the size of the set-up. I had been expecting a place like Malin Head. Uninhabited, isolated and quite bare. But there's a modern Visitor Centre in Mizen. I cycled up to the entrance and locked my bike to the fence. I went into the building and paid the entrance fee to look around.
I walked on out towards the tip of the land's end. There was a walk of a few hundred meters, with steps down a hill and a dramatic bridge out across an inlet in the sea.
Out at the end, there were more buildings, set up like a museum, with old lighthouse and radio equipment in the rooms. I walked on, close to the very end, where there was a big warning light for ships in a red steel housing. This was clearly the last accessible point. There was only room for about four people to stand near this light so I waited patiently for some family to finish admiring the scenery. When they left I walked on out to the bell and stood there triumphantly. I had made it. Mizen Head. The very end. The end of the country and the end of my journey. Despite all the odds, I was here. Journey done. And I was now the most southerly person in Ireland.
I was absolutely delighted. Not delighted to be finished, but delighted at what I had achieved. It was all just for personal satisfaction, and I stood there looking out to sea, reveling in the satisfaction. Sometimes you just need to enjoy your own moment. I was chuffed.
Time to share. I got out my phone and started ringing family. I have no doubt my jubilance conveyed. I also sent the following text out to those who wanted to be informed:
"I made it to Mizen Head from Malin Head at 2:50pm today. 355k cycling, 57k walking and 250k kayaking! Thanks for being part of my trip. "
I went back up the path to the Visitor Centre and got talking to a man in an office. From the look of me he could see I had been cycling and asked if I had come far. As soon as he heard Malin Head he took out their Malin to Mizen / Mizen to Malin book. Hundreds of people have done this trip in various ways - walking, cycling, by motorbike, car, even by tractor! I was delighted to be asked to record my journey in the book, which I dutifully did:
Although my journey to Mizen Head was over, my expedition wasn't. I still had to make it back to Goleen, get the bus to Cork and then the train to Dublin. At the planning stages, I allowed for the possibility that I might be late getting to Mizen. I reckoned that I would stay in my tent near the bus-stop in Goleen and get the 7:45am bus back to Cork. But looking at the time, I knew I'd easily make it back to Goleen for the 5:30pm bus to Cork. There'd be a good chance for a comfortable hotel there!
I went back to my bike and started the cycle back to Goleen. After the high of getting to Mizen Head, I was expecting this 8km journey to be painfully slow and difficult. The first few kilometers were downhill and fast - so fast that I passed out a car, much to the driver's surprise! Back on the slightly bigger road, with hills up and down, I was very aware of the potential for low blood-sugar levels so I ate a cereal bar after 20 minutes of cycling. I put my head down and peddled on determinedly. I was pleasantly surprised when I came to Goleen, after an easy cycle back.
I went into a pub and ordered the most substantial food they had on offer - a toasted cheese and ham sandwich. I wanted to get the eating out of the way so I'd be ready for the bus. I checked out the toilets but they were a bit rough-looking for changing so I stayed in my cycling clothes. After the sandwich I went out and glanced around. There was nowhere suitable to change and as the bus was due imminently I took the panniers off the bike and sat and waited on a bench.
Right on time, the bus came and I brought my bike over to the luggage compartments. Others opened one of the doors and placed their bags in the hold. I opened another door and lifted the bike into the empty luggage area. I had never transported a bike on a bus like this before and was pleased at how easily everything worked out. I got on the bus and paid my fare. No extra charge for the bike. This is a great service. The bus was reasonably empty - just a few people dotted about. I choose my seat carefully - I had a plan. The bus journey was due to be two hours and forty minutes. I didn't want to stay in sweaty cycling clothes, so as soon as we got going I put my plan into action. I changed into a complete new set of clothes. Completely. Thankfully my seat wasn't overlooked but those behind must have been wondering why my head was bopping around like I was sitting on a load of thumb-tacks. I discovered it's not easy to change your clothes in tight seats of a Bus Eireann coach, but with a bit of perseverance I was done. And not too soon either, for before long the bus filled up with people going to Cork. I sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed most of the remainder of the journey.
As we got closer to Cork I was watching the clock. I knew there was a train to Dublin at 8:30pm. This bus was due to Cork at 8:10pm. Initially I ruled out the possibility of getting the 8:30pm Dublin train. I suspected the bus would be late, but as we got nearer to Cork City, I knew my chances were getting better and better. I was beginning to recognise streets and knew we were getting closer and closer. The minutes were ticking by - 8pm, 8:03pm, 8:05pm, 8:10pm … People started shifting on the bus and putting stuff away in their hand-luggage. Almost there.
The bus stopped. Everyone got up. I asked a man where the train station was. He gave me directions and said it was only a few minutes away. I got off the bus and hauled my bike out of the luggage compartment. I quickly lashed my bags onto the bike. My haste must have been obvious because the man who gave me directions came back over to me and clarified exactly where to go. He was even talking quickly like he knew I was under time pressure. I thanked him and jumped up on the bike. I peddled hard along Parnell Place and turned right onto Merchant's Quay. There was a left turn across the bridge over The River Lee, but it was one-way with the traffic coming against me. I was in a hurry. This was a special situation. I turned the bike against the flow of traffic and crossed about three lanes with cars coming towards me! It was evening so there wasn't too many cars on the road. I kept on going up Summerhill and turned right onto Lower Glanmire Road. I blindly followed the directions and hoped for the best. I was standing on the peddles, pushing as hard as I could. I raced down the street, almost keeping up with cars going my direction.
A building came into view that just had a train station look about it. There was a couple of people smoking outside the front door. I cycled towards them and asked for the entrance to the train station. They directed me to the open door beside them. There were no steps so I cycled straight through the doorway, and across the main concourse. I saw a man in blue uniform and asked him for the Dublin train. He pointed to the train behind him. I asked where I could get tickets and he quickly pointed to the ticket machine beside him. As I was getting off the bike he was pressing the buttons on the machine. I got my ticket and he said there was no charge for the bike. What a great service! He told me to bring the bike up to the Guard's carriage, up front, but to be quick about it. This train was just about to go! I got the bike into the train and took all my bags off it. As I was getting into a carriage I could hear whistles blowing.
I went down the carriage and got a seat. I sorted out my bags and collapsed into the comfortable seat. More whistles, the doors closed, the engine revved, and we moved, slowly out of Cork. I was going home.
I could hardly believe my luck. The timing was perfect. I rang my brother John to tell him where I was. The train was to arrive in Dublin at 11:15pm. I didn't expect John to pick me up at that time, and I was thinking if I'd have any problem cycling home through Dublin City with no lights on my bike. John was amazed to hear where I was and without hesitation told me he'd be there to collect me! I settled back to enjoy the journey home.
After a while I went up to the dining car to get a Heineken. I got a can and went further on to check out the First Class carriage. It was empty and while I was standing in it looking around, the ticket inspector came in and, knowing there shouldn't be anyone there, instructed me to leave the carriage, telling me I shouldn't be there, and this was for First Class only, and she knew I didn't have a First Class ticket, and I couldn't stay .... I smiled and told her I was just taking a look. I turned to go, but she said "OK, sure stay there and have your beer. " ! Unfortunately I was conscious of my bags all alone, and opted to go back to my seat.
The train pulled into Heuston Station. Walking down the platform, carrying my panniers and other bags, I quickly saw John coming towards me, smiling and taking pictures.
I got the bike out of the train and we loaded it into his car. On the short drive home I was trying to fill him in on my adventures since I had seen him, but there was a lot to remember, a lot to recount. We got to my house and unloaded bike and bags.
When John was gone I went upstairs and walked into my bedroom. Earlier that day I had journeyed to Mizen Head. I had been contemplating staying in my tent, or getting a B&B, or a hotel if I was lucky. Instead I was back in my own house, my own bedroom. I had spent the previous sixteen nights in different locations, regularly unpredictable, with different levels of comfort, but all alien and strange. Now I was home. I don't think I'll ever forget the feeling of home comfort that enveloped me. I felt absolutely wonderful. I didn't collapse asleep, I didn't even lie down for hours. The adrenalin kept me awake for quite some time. The expedition wasn't letting go easily.
EPILOGUE:
For me in it was a great journey in many ways. I achieved what I had set out to do and planned for eleven years. I wanted to complete an expedition that would be tough and tasking. I had wanted to challenge myself. I can honestly say that the expedition didn't let me down - it was definitely a challenge. It was tough in lots of places - I got tired and sore at lots of times, but I got full of energy and rushes of adrenalin in others. It was dangerous in places, and stunningly serene in others. A difficulty I encountered which I hadn't expected was boredom - particularly and severely so when kayaking on the Shannon. But I added that to the challenges and dealt with it. I overcame it and kept on going. Then looked back with satisfaction.
"I'd rather be the ship that sails
And rides the billows wild and free;
Than to be the ship that always fails
To leave its port and go to sea.
I had spent years planning the trip. Initially marking up an old map, and then working through the various stages, studying detailed maps checking little roads, big rivers, hills and forests. I took detours when driving through the country to check out the suitability of terrain, or for possible places to stay overnight. By the time it came to embarking on the trip I had a lot of the logistics sorted out, but there was still an awful lot of uncertainty - which added to the attraction of an expedition fraught with danger.
I'd rather feel the sting of strife,
Where gales are born and tempests roar;
Than settle down to useless life
And rot in dry dock on the shore.
I had told my family that on top of being careful, if all came to all - if things got bad, I would abandon the trip and come home. I reassured them of this as I was leaving on the first day. But secretly I was wondering just how bad would things have to get for me to abandon the trip. Wild horses would have had a tough time trying to drag me from my route. I was determined. When things did get bad, when I was up the hills in a forest, having run out of water, I didn't give up. The pain in my back, legs and feet was intense but I forced myself to think clearly, to keep on going, and ultimately overcome. And keep on going. With blisters. Now I know what determination can achieve.
I was disappointed by the state of the land. I had anticipated being able to pitch my tent practically anywhere, with the wind in my hair and soft grass under my toes. The reality is remarkably different with fields of rushes pot-marked by cattle hooves in soft wet soil. But some good planning can overcome that. I would definitely camp out again, but pre-arrange the locations carefully. I was definitely impressed by the friendliness of people I encountered. Everybody who got just the smallest detail of my trip wanted to help out as best they could.
Before the trip I thought I would loose a lot of weight. Not that I carry much extra weight, but with close to three weeks of daily exercise I thought I would definitely shed up to a stone. I started the trip weighing 11St 7lbs, and finished it weighing 11St. 4lbs. Only three pounds lost! I wasn't trying to loose weight but was interested in the experiment! I had exercised lots before the trip, so was obviously in very good shape. Pity I haven't kept up the exercise since then. To date I have rested on my laurels and put the pounds back on. But I have plans to deal with that ...
I have been asked if I would do the trip, or one like it, again. And of course I have asked myself that question. The answer is a definite NO! Well not in the manner I did it anyway! If I were to do the same route again, I would want to do it with plenty of company - as many people as possible, and I would have the equipment magically transported from place to place. But then I didn't set out from the inception of this trip to have a handy expedition - it was conceived to challenge me, and that it did.
It was great to do it, great to achieve all I did, great to experience the countryside in such close quarters, great excitement and adventure. But it was tough going. At times very tough. I'm glad it was tough. I'm glad I really earned that satisfaction. I would have been truly disappointed if it was easy, if it hadn't been a challenge. But it was a challenge. And now it's done. With no need to do again. I will definitely do more adventurous stuff, which hopefully will be challenging, rewarding and satisfying, but not a long slog on my own like this one was. I have learned loads from this trip. Next time I will drive to the bottom of the mountain and climb it from there. With company.
I'd rather fight some mighty wave
With honour in supreme command;
And fill at last a well-earned grave,
Than die in ease upon the sand.
The journey wasn't just an expedition from Malin Head to Mizen Head. It was much greater than that. It involved me and a huge amount of people. My family supported me and ultimately trusted me to take care of myself, showing their caring concern at all stages of the trip. For my safety they didn't always want me to go, but for my determination to succeed they put on a brave face. You know how grateful I am. The numerous well wishes from many friends helped me in difficult times to push pedals, drag a paddle, lift bags and urged me forward. You were part of my expedition. Thanks for being part of my journey.
I'd rather drive where sea storms blow,
And be the ship that always failed
To make the ports where it would go,
Than be the ship that never sailed. "
--- Author Unknown
A couple of weeks after I got back, I had some family in my house. We popped open and enjoyed a certain big magnum of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin Champagne.
The End.
Séamus, 23rd June 2008.
