We're getting on into September, and this is, after all, Ireland. Not a lot of time left for touring, and this is a nice weekend. Might be the last decent opportunity to travel. We have wanted to see Glendalough, so that is this week's goal.
What's special about Glendalough? First, it is an insanely beautiful valley, among several other insanely beautiful valleys, with the extraordinarly well preserved remains of a twelfth century monastic settlement. Religious activity in the valley actually dates from about the sixth century, when an ascetic monk abandoned his wealthy heritage and lived as a hermit at the site. He was eventually canonized as St. Kevin. Stories of his life (some pretty fanciful, like the time a blackbird laid an egg on his outstretched hand, and he didn't move until it hatched) attracted religious pilgrims to the valley, and a monastery grew at the location.
There are a number of options for the route. Glendalough is accessible from the coast road, through Wicklow. One can also reach it by riding straight through the Wicklow Mountains, or by simply going down route R755 from Dublin. Climbing into the Wicklows is out; been there, done that. Taking the R755 is the safe, wimpy solution: boring, boring, boring! So, that leaves the coast road. The route is to Wicklow, then southwest along the R752 to Rathdrum, and finally north along the R755 to Laragh. This latter section is marked as scenic route on all the maps; it goes straight through the Vale of Clara, a stunningly beautiful valley. The route home is a similar dilemma. All the inbound routes are options, of course. One option is to to go south to Arklow, via the Vale of Clara and Vale of Avoca, then north along the coast road. this would be about 75 miles, however, not much in LA but quite a decent ride here, what with hills and all. Another is to go west through the Wicklow Gap, which involves another climb to 1500 feet or so. Decisions.
As in previous trips, Julie takes the bus and I take the bike. There is a special bus line from Dublin to Glendalough, called St. Kevin's express. It leaves from the bus center in Dublin, so Julie must take the Dart into Dublin to get it. I decide to take the coast road and Vale of Clara route to Glendalough, then decide on the return trip when I have to. The route is shown below; Click on a thumbnail to see a larger version of the pictures. Use the back button of your browser to return to this page.
I've done the coast road before; it is pleasant, scenic, and reasonably flat. This time I go almost to Wicklow, farther south along the coast than I have gone previously. The road goes through Shankill and Bray, both pleasant, small towns. Below is the Shankill main drag, and the "interesting" building at the head of the main street in Bray.
I avoid Greystones this time, not a terribly impressive town, and head south along the R761 through Kilcoole and Newcastle to Rathnew, right outside Wicklow. South of Newcastle, I see a sign indicating a castle in the direction of the coast. I cut over to the shore, looking for the castle, but I can't find it. I end up just sitting by the ocean and eating a little of the trail mix I brought with me. The beach is not sand, only pebbles, and I can't imagine anyone swimming there. Might be OK for fishing, though. In Rathnew, I stop at a small grocery and get a sandwich for lunch. I sit on a wall next to a small shrine, to the Virgin Mary of Rathnew or some such thing, as I polish off the sandwich. Refueled, I can head for Rathdrum.
I turn south on the R752 toward Rathdrum. The road is decent, not too heavily traveled, and not terribly scenic. As I come into Rathdrum I cross the Avonmore river, which flows through the Vale of Clara, and expect to find the intersection for the R755, which parllels the river. It doesn't seem to exist. I stop at a gas station to ask directions, and the attendant confidently tells me to continue on and turn right. According to my GPS I should be right on top of the intersection, but I still take his advice. I climb up a steep hill, dutifully turn right, and cut through town. The town in charming, with stairstepped whitewashed row houses and window boxes filled with colorful flowers. Just like the tourist brochures. I realize that the road through the Vale is right where it should have been, next to the one I came in on--except it's about 150 feet higher!
The Vale of Clara fully deserves its scenic route designation on my Michelin map. I ride through a dense forest, its tree canopy completely covering the road. (I forget the precise term used for the forest, but it strikes me as equivalent to a national forest in the US.) The great showpiece is its Millennium Tree, which I do not try to find. I suspect that the term sounded cool around 1999; now it seems banal. The road finally opens into a dramatic, deep valley, which I follow all the way to Laragh, the town outside of Glendalough where our B&B is located.
As I pull into Laragh, just a mile from the historical site at Glendalough, Julie calls on the cell phone. She has completed a two-mile walk around the two lakes in the valley southwest of the site, a beautiful walk. I tell her that I will check in at the B&B in Laragh and meet her at the Glendalough visitor center. The B&B is charming, part of an old mill, the rest of which has been converted to a store selling wool clothing. I drop off my panniers in the room and head for the site. When I arrive, she is sitting in front of the visitors' center, waiting for me.
Since she is on foot, and it's a mile or so to the B&B, Julie starts back while I visit the antiquities. One small pair of buildings is in remarkable condition, with a stone roof supported by an arch, of all things. The cathedral has seen better days, and so has St. Kevin's house. The area is still a cemetery, with both ancient and modern graves. From one side, I can see down the valley. It is hazy, unfortunately, and I'm not prepared to do the two-mile walk, so that view will have to suffice.
In the evening, we walk to Laragh's one pub, knock off a couple Smithwicks', and have dinner in the bar. We're both tired, so we crash around 9:30. The B&B is outside of town, in a quiet country setting, so it is as quiet as George Bush taking an IQ test.
Next morning, I decide on the Wicklow Gap route for the trip home. After breakfast, Julie leaves quickly so she can catch her bus to Dublin. On the way out of town, I see her sitting by the appointed bus stop, near a pair of telephone booths.
The road up to the gap is not terribly steep, but it gains 1100 feet in five miles, climbing to about 1500. There is one climb of a couple miles. The road then levels off, more or less. A second climb, which can be seen for miles, curves gracefully up to the gap. The ride is wonderful. I stop periodically and savor the quiet. All I hear is the now-light wind and bleating of sheep hundreds of yards away. Along the way, the view is dramatic, both forward into the mountains and back down the valley. Beside the road are several more sets of ruins, some with parking lots and pathways out to them. But no signs explaining what they are. I suspect some kind of settlement, but, according to a note on a map I have at home, one is an old lead mine and smelter. (I kinda think I should avoid drinking the water in the river that flows past them...!) At the summit is a parking lot and observation area with a spectacular view all the way down the valley.
The wind is behaving strangely. As I leave Larach, it is strong and gusty, continuing into the mountains. As I gain altitude, however, it stops, but again picks up as I approach Wicklow Gap. While I am at the observation point, the wind picks up suddenly, gets rather cold, and reaches perhaps 25-30 MPH. It is hard to stand in. Fortunately, however, it is at my back, so I head down the mountain on a steep road with a strong tailwind. My brakes, I suspect, are smoking.
For some reason, I'm thinking about the problem in rural Scandinavia of cars colliding with deer and moose. Suddenly, two shitty-assed sheep jump out in front of me. This is quite unexpected, since, at this point, the roads are fenced. I'm on the brakes in an instant, never any real danger of hitting them. The two brain-dead animals run panicked in front of me for about a hundred yards, then cut to the side of the road, huddling as I pass. Never knew that sheep are so afraid of bicycles. Or, maybe it's just that I look like Tony Blair.
At the bottom of the mountains, I have a choice of several routes around or across the Poulaphouca reservoir. I decide on the one marked as a scenic route, along the east side of the reservoir. It is indeed scenic. Also pretty goddam hilly, and the mercurial wind has picked up again. Now it's strong, and largely in my face. I struggle up hills at 5 MPH. The road around the reservoir turns gradually to the east, eventually putting the wind slightly behind me. About two-thirds of the way around, I stop at a country store for a snack. It's already 12:45, and no sign of a place to get a real lunch. All along the route, the wild blackberries are ripening. I stop a couple times and pick a handful. Not much compensation for a late lunch, but they're awfully good anyway.
The bridge over a narrow part of the reservoir is the same one I took on the Wicklow ride a few weeks ago. In Blessington, I buy a sandwich from a small grocery and sit on a bench in the center of town eating it. The rest of the route is straight north up the N81, a busy, fast road. No point in taking any more pictures.
I pull off the N81 in Tallaght. The place is amazing. At the center is Tallaght Square, a US-style supermall, and next to it are at least fifteen construction cranes either building new office buildings or getting ready to. The rest of the route is the usual one across the city, along Killacud Road, through Dundrum, which leads straight into Carysfort.
This was quite a ride. I'm glad to be home.