Earlier in the year, I had spent a few days cycling in Connemara which I had really enjoyed. I had also identified a few different routes I would like to cycle. I hoped to do these at some point next year. I had a few days off work at the end of August. I had planned to do a little cycling trip. I had other plans that didn’t work at this time as I couldn’t find affordable accommodation. I decided to go back to Connemara, staying in the Ben Lettery Hostel as before.

The long range forecast was not looking so good and yellow weather warnings were mentioned but I booked it anyway. I don’t melt in the rain after all. Recently I had been feeling more motivated and doing more regular training rides of around twenty miles on single speed to try and get my fitness back to where I would like it to be. I was starting to feel the benefits and had lost a little weight as well. Then a few days before I was due to leave, I was riding my single speed Raleigh Pioneer when the bottom bracket spindle snapped when climbing a hill. I could see that it wasn’t a complete fresh break as around half of it was black. I can only image it had been damaged when I got hit by the car that shattered my ankle and it had taken until now to break it completely. I can’t think what else would have damaged it. It shows that if a cycle part has taken an impact, it’s possibly better to replace it.

I didn’t actually fall when the crank dropped off under load, but I did land heavily on the nose of the saddle and bruised myself. I also managed to twist my back in some way, it felt strange at the time and I was really stiff and in pain the next morning. It could have been worse, but it was hardly a good start to a planned cycling break. The back injury combined with the now atrocious weather forecast made me tempted to cancel it but I decided to go anyway as I felt like a few days to relax.

With my bike in the back of the car, I drove to Clifden, sitting in the car caused problems and I had to stop a few times to get out and walk around a bit. I seemed to really struggle with inactivity. Once I was moving and freed out, my back wasn’t too bad. The weather wasn’t too bad on the way down, although colder than it had been for most of August. There was a yellow weather warning in place from 6PM and for most of the following day with rain easing off in the afternoon.

After buying some groceries in the supermarket in Clifden, I made my way to the hostel, located on the N59 a few miles outside Clifden on the road to Galway city. I checked in and made myself something to eat and relaxed for the evening. I could hear the rain on the windows, one of those evenings where you can be glad to be inside.

It was still pouring rain the following morning. I struggled to get out of bed as my back hurt and was very stiff and I questioned the wisdom of coming here at all. I did start to free out once I started to move around a bit. The weather didn’t look very promising looking with wind a showers.

After breakfast went for a walk around outside during a break in the showers and felt not too bad. I decided to risk a short ride to see how I would feel. In the past, I have found gentle cycling spinning a low gear has usually helped my back when it’s sore. I put on my waterproof jacket and ventured down the road and I felt okay, so I kept going.

I wasn’t going to do the route I had hoped to do as it might be too much for my back at the moment as would have been about seventy miles and quite hilly in places. I wanted a gentle ride so stuck to where it wouldn’t have too many hills. I headed off on the N59 towards Oughterard. I would have options. I could turn towards Ballynahinch on the R341 or towards Carna on the R340. Both would be reasonably flat.

I choose the R340, which would have formed part of the route I was going to do anyway. This would also take me towards Ionad Cultúrtha an Phiarsaigh at Ros Muc, something I had planned on visiting anyway. I was feeling okay and enjoying the ride despite the rain. The wind could make it challenging at times as Connemara roads often offer little shelter from the wind. I barely seen a car on these roads which is always a recipe for pleasant riding. There was still plenty to see too despite the much reduced visibility due to the mist. Around here, in some parts, you could feel nothing much has changed in fifty or a hundred years with the drystone walls and at this time of year, the stacks of turf in the bog waiting to be transported home for winter firing. Tractors have replaced donkeys over the years as the preferred method of bringing home the turf. It is nice to see so many lightweight tractors, some nearly seventy years old, still earning their keep for this purpose. Their light weight a huge advantage in a peat bog.

The only problem was that I had come out without bringing any food or drinks as I had only originally planned on riding a mile or two down the road. I wasn’t too worried as I knew there is a café at Ionad Cultúrtha an Phiarsaigh. When I arrived, I was surprised to find I was not the only cyclist mad enough to go out in such weather as there were another three cyclists also visiting. I was disappointed to find the café was closed as I was thirsty and could have done with a snack. I decided I would still see around the visitors’ centre and the cottage, conscious that I was dripping water from my clothes as walked around.

Ionad Cultúrtha an Phiarsaigh is a modern visitors’ centre built near the cottage which was owned by Patrick Pearse. Pearse was born in Dublin in 1879, was a barrister, a teacher, a poet, a writer, a nationalist and one of the signatories of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic. Pearse developed a great love of the Irish Language and became involved in the Conradh na Gaeilge (Gaelic League) at sixteen. He became editor of An Claidheamh Soluis (The Sword of Light) at the age of twenty-three. In his thirties, he became increasingly interested in Irish Nationalism.

The cottage dates from around 1870. Pearse used it as a summer retreat, and to write and study the Irish Language. He also held summer schools here for boys from Dublin. I can see why he liked it here in this picturesque and tranquil setting. The cottage seems so basic when we look at what we think we need today. He had little apart from basic furniture and books.  I believe he last visited Ros Muc in the summer of 1915. He was executed by British Army firing squad in May 1916 for his part in the Easter Rising. It was fascinating to get a glimpse into the life of someone I had only ever previously read about in history books, and I knew very little about the man himself. He was clearly someone of great intelligence.

The cottage was passed to his mother on his death, and was burnt down by the Black and Tans in 1921. The family has it restored. It was given over to the State by his sisters in 1943 and has been preserved as a National Monument. The visitors’ centre is a modern addition and very interesting and educational. I consider it definitely worth a visit if you have an interest in history.

I went looking for a shop. There is a rural post office a few miles from Ionad Cultúrtha an Phiarsaigh at Ros Muc peninsula. Ros Muc is actually a good example of the descriptive nature of Irish place names as Ros Muc literally means the “headland of the pig,” a reference to rounded pig-like rounded hills. The English translations of Irish place names lose the meaning. Ros Muc has one of the highest percentages of Irish speakers in the country, this would have been part of the reason Pearse came here as he was interested in the Irish Language.

I found the post office, one of those fascinating places where you can buy anything from a cement mixer to a packet of biscuits. It was closed for lunch between 1 and 2 so I would have another thirty-five minutes to wait before I could buy any food. Breakfast at 7am was now a long time ago. I went for a little ride along the coast in the rain before coming back for opening time. I got a bottle of water and few bits and pieces to eat which I ate at the leeward side of the shop to take shelter from the wind. I noted the memorial to the founder of the Connemara Pony Breeders’ Society.

The cycling had helped my back enormously but had done nothing for the weather which showed no sign of improving. I decided to just make my way back to the hostel. I largely just retraced my steps as there isn’t a huge selection of roads in these parts. I was surprised to find I had covered just over forty miles when I got back. I was very wet, but had enjoyed the day despite the weather. You can’t really prevent yourself from getting wet when cycling, the important point is to keep warm. Wet is okay, cold and wet is miserable. Ironically, as I got closer to the hostel, the weather suddenly began to improve with the sun putting in an appearance.

I had a shower and some dry clothes before making myself an evening meal. I had a relaxing evening. The hostel was quite busy, including a few other cyclists so there were plenty of people to chat to. Considering how warm it had been for most of August, today had been a culture shock in some ways. It wasn’t just the rain or the wind but it was suddenly noticeably colder and I was pleased I hadn’t worn shorts. Later in the evening, it also seemed to get dark earlier than usual. Signs that summer is now at an end.

The next day was Friday, and the weather forecast was much more promising for today, with less wind and early morning rain was to give way to afternoon sunshine. It was for this reason that I had planned a day-trip to Inishbofin Island for today and booked the earliest ferry at 11:30 am, and the last ferry back at 5:00pm. In normal circumstances, I would have ridden the approximately fifteen miles to the ferry port at Cleggan, but it was raining quite heavily first thing and my back was sore and stiff again when I got up. The route between Clifden and Cleggan also involves quite a bit of climbing. I was worried I might have overdone it the previous day.

For this reason, I took the bike in the car to Cleggan in good time for the 11:30 ferry. Again, as I had started to move about in the morning, my back had started to improve. By the time I reach Cleggan, the rain had stopped and there were signs of a blue sky. The day was reasonably clear and the wind had calmed, although there was still quite a swell in the sea.

The crossing takes about half an hour and I stayed out on deck the whole time. The ferry was much busier than I had expected and was also carrying quite a bit of cargo as they were taking out supplies to the businesses on the island. The sun had come out by now and added some heat but the crossing was still quite rough due to the swell in the sea.

After disembarking the ferry on Inishbofin pier, I wondered where I should go first as I had no particular plan or hadn’t really researched what I might find on the island. It would be the magical mystery tour! I decided to go right and circumnavigate the island in an anti-clockwise direction. My first stop was only a few hundred yards away from the pier when I stopped at some picnic benches overlooking the sea to eat my lunch. Food always tastes better with a view!

Inishbofin (Inis Bó Finne – island of the white cow) is a small island. I knew it wouldn’t offer great cycling potential as it’s only 3.5 x 2 miles. I was looking forward to a relaxed way of life, nice sea views, unspoiled beauty and some time away from the increasingly hectic pace of life on the mainland. I was surprised as it seemed much more densely populated than I was expecting (further research show around nearly two hundred residents) and all amenities like, shop, cafés, pubs, hotel, church and health centre. There is nothing particularly challenging about cycling around here, although there were a couple of deceptively steep, short climbs. In all, I only rode about ten miles on the island, following the coast road. Despite this, I still managed to fill my whole time on the island, arriving back the pier about twenty minutes before the last ferry was due to leave at 5pm. I had left my bike and walked along some of the hiking trails on offer and I had stopped at pub to sample island hospitality. I had a really enjoyable time and it’s definitely worth a visit. I might look into staying overnight at some point as the island is famous for its traditional music.

After I got back to Cleggan, I had something to eat before going for a rambling ride around the minor roads around Cleggan. I then put the bike back in the car and drove back to the hostel. I had had a good day, the weather was such a contrast to the previous day and I even got a little sunburned. I had cycled very few miles compared to what I usually want to do when touring but it was all very relaxed and enjoyable. It’s not always about riding long distances or riding at high average speeds.

I met a group of sea kayakers from Yorkshire at the hostel who were interesting company. They too had struggled with the weather on their trip to the west of Ireland and had to abort some of their plans due to the windy conditions over the past few days. The nice thing about staying in hostels like this is that you often meet interesting people. We all had one good day, but the forecast for the Saturday and Sunday were far from promising.

So, it proved as I woke up to wind and torrential rain again on Saturday morning. I sat with others in the commons room after breakfast looking for a break in the weather but none was forthcoming. Another German cyclist had booked to stay about fifty miles away around the coast and was waiting and hoping the rain would stop. I have been in that situation myself on tour on plenty of occasions. It is rarely as bad it seems once you get underway. The worst thing about getting really wet on tours is dealing with all your wet clothes afterwards as not everywhere has drying facilities.

The forecast was better for the afternoon so I decided to drive to into Clifden and visit the museum at the old railway station and have a proper look around the town, something I’ve never really done even though I’ve had several trips to Connemara over the years. The museum is interesting, located in what was the engine shed. I was surprised just how big the whole station complex actually was for what is a relatively small town. The line from Galway was built in the 1890s and had been built to full mainline standard and ran the standard Irish 5’3” gauge (most railways in the west of Ireland ran on 3’ narrow gauge track). It only really had a working of life of around forty years.

It provided a much-needed lifeline for the people of Connemara at the time of its construction as travel was slow and difficult and employment scarce. Road transport slowly became more efficient and there wasn’t enough passengers in this rural area to support the line; oddly enough, the line made it easier for the people from the poor areas of Connemara to emigrate which further sealed it fate. Parts of the old track bed are being turned into a greenway and I’ve cycled parts of this in the past on previous trips and I look forward to it being completed. I understand the delay is due to an ongoing court dispute about land ownership.

There is also a large part of the museum given over to Alcock and Brown who made the first Transatlantic flight in a Vickers in 1919 and crash landed in a bog near Clifden. I have visited this site in the past. There is also a memorial to Alcock and Brown in Clifden and there is a hotel named after them. I hadn’t realised Alcock had died later in that year.

Clifden is also famous as where Marconi made a lot of his early experiments in radio and first transmitted radio across the Atlantic from here. A huge part of the museum is also given over the Connemara Pony and its breeding.  There is also the stuff you might expect to find in a rural Irish museum like butter churns and various farm implements. There was also an early Royal Enfield single speed roadster that had belonged to a local plumber, and judging by how hooked the chainwheel teeth where, he had clearly covered quite a few miles on it.

I also spent a lot of time looking around book shops, art shops, bike shops and second hand shops. I had really enjoyed my morning in Clifden and the forecast had been right. Now in the early afternoon, the rain had stopped, although it was still pretty windy. The mood for riding had passed now really. If I had been able to go out first thing in the morning, I would have done, but now the moment had passed. I had formed another idea after I had got some food.

I drove to Letterfrack to the Connemara National Park. I have often cycled past it but had never visited it before. I had had the foresight to bring my hiking boots with me so I had decided to climb Diamond Hill. I didn’t really spend much time in the visitors’ centre at the National Park but had just gone straight for the hiking trail. There are three options, a yellow easy loop, a blue moderately difficult route and red difficult route. I decided to do the blue loop to see how I would get on. I haven’t done much hiking like this since I broke my ankle as walking on uneven ground can cause me problems, although it’s not as bad as it used to be.

As it was, I was getting on fine and opted for the red loop after all that would take to the peak of Diamond hill at around 1,400 feet above sea level. I didn’t quite complete the red loop over the peak as it got to be so exposed and stormy near the top that it wasn’t really safe so I retraced my steps back. The views were amazing despite the somewhat murky skies and my ankle and back had held up fine. I had really enjoyed my time on the mountain. I also discovered that one of the buildings used by Marconi is included in the National Park.

I drove back to the hostel and made myself something to eat. The Yorkshire group were staying a second night as well. The wind had also interfered with their kayaking plans again.

Sunday morning was even worse than the previous day but I wasn’t really bothered this time as I was only going to be making my way home again. I had really enjoyed my few days in Ben Lettery despite far from ideal weather and a sore back. In some ways, it gave me options of doing other things that I probably wouldn’t have done if I had just gone out and cycled sixty or seventy miles every day like I had hoped when I had first planned this. It’s not just about average speeds or long rides. It just gives further evidence that most of us are trying to fit too much into our lives these days and we would all benefit from slowing down!