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The day dawned breezy but sunny and warm. We had quite a trek ahead of us today as we planned to take a small ferry across to Cape Clear Island. This is the most southerly part of Ireland. Accordingly we set off fairly early (does 09:00 count as early?) and headed off down the N71. We tried to make good time with regular short stops, you know the pattern by now. We stopped at Ross Carber to eat at a picnic table in the bay. It was sunny but the sea breeze meant we were reluctant to stay too long. After Skibbereen the road to Baltimore was awful. Our first real taste of how poor some roads in Ireland are, and made worse by the incredible density of traffic. I had to look at the map twice to convince myself that we weren't heading for a major city.
Where were all these people going? All was revealed when we arrived at Baltimore.

The harbour was mobbed, a pipe band played and over 1000 tourists milled around.
In due course a small ferry boat arrived and we bobbed over the ocean waves to the Island.
This is a small rocky outcrop from the sea with the most unbelievably steep roads cut in to the rock face. The hostel is a small stone built building in the south harbour. Idyllic, beautiful, use whatever words you like but they will not be enough to describe the location.
Alan and Trevor made the meal tonight with a Mexican theme. Complete with Tequila Slammers. Alan had brought a whole bottle of Tequila and some little plastic glasses with LEDs in the base which flash when you slam the glass down. It's this attention to detail which makes Trevor and Alan the best hostel cooks in the world.

In such a remote location you'd normally expect us to have a quiet night in. However this location is so perfect there's a pub just ten minutes walk up the hill. That's where we went to end a perfect day.
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I awoke in the morning to the sound of someone having a shower. But why were they doing this in the dorm? No, it wasn't a shower, it was raining. Either that or we were at 10,000 metres and surrounded by cloud.

The ferry crossing back to Baltimore was pretty rough, I found leaning over the rail helped, you get the picture! When we reached Skibbereen it was still raining so we went in to Fields teashop which was connected to a supermarket. Alan got pretty excited when he saw Carol Vorderman with her children in the supermarket. Bert and Trevor then had a sudden need to buy things which were available in the supermarket too so that left me on my own with a large pot of tea.
When the celebrity watchers returned we trudged out in to the street and navigated a surprisingly hilly N71 North to Bantry. I think there may have been views at the summit but they were lost to us in the general mist / cloud thing that was going on.
Bert and I did the shopping here and of course we hit a tea room again. Eventually we had to push on but the rain had topped by the time we reached Murphy's Independent Hostel, Glengarriff.

When we arrived we had all looked at each other, no one said it but we all thought 'Oh no!' The place was like a dump, no really I mean it. Old fridges and bicycles lying around rusting, rotting fruit in wooden boxes. If the outside of the hostel was like this then what would the inside be like? As it happens the inside was much better, not the cleanest place we've been but acceptable. Just don't look out the windows and you're OK.
Bert and I cooked. The starter was celery soup with warm bread then the main course, Irish stew with home made dumplings and new potatoes. To finish muffins with custard and the whole meal washed down with Guinness.
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When we woke the sky was mostly blue with only a little broken cloud. We took a photo as we so often do, but the photo we took was from the front of the hostel, the scene at the back was not a pretty sight. Then we took to our heels along the R road to Adrigole.
From Adrigole we took the winding road up to Healy Pass, the most magnificent pass I have ever climbed. The road twists this way and that but always the gradient is sensible. There is a bridge at the summit and you pass almost directly under it when you are still 800m by road from it, (and 100m below it). You are able to see the view in every direction as you climb without any twisting of your head, the man who designed it was a genius. There is a small shop at the summit where ice creams are available.

The view to the north from here is breathtaking, with Kenmare Bay below and MacGillycuddy's Reeks on the horizon.

The sun continued to shine as we made our descent to the sea, we stopped for a pint of Guinness at a harbour pub near Bunaw.
Bert almost fell asleep on the harbour wall, perhaps he did? The water was lapping gently against the harbour wall, the sun was burning down, the Guinness was cool and there was not a breath of wind. Just look at the photo.

Alan and I sent text messages to Tucker describing the scene, Tucker was at work at the time, some would call this cruel.
It was nearly 15:00 when we left so Bert and Alan put on a burst of speed and we reached Kenmare by 16:10. This was a busy place full of tourists, Alan and Trevor did the shopping while Bert and I lounged in a park near the centre of town. Now every one has seen signs which say 'No Dumping', they're usually in lay-bys or down side roads. Well for the first time ever, I saw a 'No Dumping' sign fixed to the side of the public toilets, well it made me laugh.
Once the shopping was complete we resumed our journey exploring the great N71 and made the long ascent up to Moll's Gap. Spectacular scenery and far below us in the valley we could see the road to the hostel. It took much longer than I expected to get down to the valley floor, partly due to the almost non existent road surface.
After going down so far we then of course had to climb back up in the Black Valley to reach the beautiful hostel. We were completely surrounded on all four sides by mountains, at night it was totally quiet and still.
Trevor and Alan went daft with the cooking tonight. There was cooked cold rice which was pressed in to a bowl then turned out on a plate with fancy stuff on top.. It was a cross between Nouvelle Cuisine and Cordon Bleu cooking, magnificent!

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In the morning we headed off up the valley and took a road which wound back and forth up the northern slope. Ahead was an unbroken line of high craggy tops.
After a while we noticed a narrow gap or opening in the steep ridge ahead and the road took us through it. It turns out that it was not a ridge we were approaching but a mountain range with a steep sided valley which passed right through it. Somehow a road had been built through here and we were on it. This is the "World famous Gap of Dunloe"
I'd been wondering what the 'World famous' bit was all about, now I could see. The road crossed from one side of the
valley to the other passing pools and streams. Stone arch top bridges are everywhere and the air was still and quiet.


As we gradually descended we came across increasing numbers of small carts pulled by
ponies. The sort of thing you normally see on postcards.

For some reason they were all carrying American people up the valley, sight seeing I presume.
We took lots of photos here and at the bottom we stopped for a pint at 'Kate Kearney's Cottage'.

The whole experience was quite magical and one I would very much recommend. It was blazing hot by this time so we stayed longer than perhaps we ought.
We pressed on through undulating farmland and stopped for lunch outside a chip shop in Milltown. Soon after reaching the Dingle Peninsular the wind sprang up. To try and make up some time we rode in close formation and managed about 18mph for most of the time. We stopped to look at the fantastic beach (known locally as a 'strand') at Inch and eventually reached Ballintaggart House Hostel near Dingle.
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The day dawned wet and miserable. There was no bike shed at the hostel so we'd left them in the courtyard. They were of course dripping wet by now and it was not a pleasant task to load them up with panniers. As we wheeled round to the front of the hostel the true extent of the day's weather was revealed. Yesterday there were sea views, today nothing but
mist.

Our plan was to ride around the tip of the peninsular. We had been told that the road along the southern coast offered spectacular views, for us there was nothing. We made our way to the Blasket Island Visitor Centre and got in on a group ticket. It was a great exhibition, Trevor especially was moved by the story of the islanders who had to leave after centuries of living on the island.
We returned to Dingle by the northern loop and after Alan did some shopping we started to climb Ireland's highest mountain pass road, 'The Conair Pass'. Since we were starting at sea level we expected this to be very tough. 1500ft in 4.5 miles at a steady climb, Alan and I reached the summit after 50min. Once again there were no views to be seen, in fact we could hardly see each other!

It was then a short whizz down to the 'Conair Pass Hostel'. The hostel is operated by Tomasins Bar which is opposite on the main road. Alan and Bert cooked a three course meal including fish from Dingle. An excellent meal was rounded off by a trip over the road to the pub.

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Warm morning, broken cloud, pretty nice. Not far to go today so an extended period of faffing ensued outside the
hostel. Faffing is like work, it expands to fill the time available.

Even despite this leisurely start the going was easy and we still reached Tralee by 12:00
After checking out the station we had an excellent meal in a pub. The plates were those big oval things you sometimes see used as serving plates. Well these were the eating plates! We struggled to get to the station, I could hardly stand in fact after such a ridiculously large meal.

We then caught the 14:00 to Dublin and snoozed for the four and a half hour journey of 300km.
We only cycled 22 miles today.
A night out in Dublin rounded off an excellent holiday. One of the classics which will be remembered for years to come.
