Limerick(s)

Dingle – Tarbert, Ireland

No, we’re not visiting one of Ireland’s most famous cities. But in honor of our current position – some fifty miles west of the town, I present a little verse:

The Irish, they complain about the rain;

And it certainly is a pain;

But, me trusts;

You’ve felt the big gusts;

Because it’s them that will drive you insane.

Or this one:

There was a pretty doctor who swam in the tide

“But the water is too cold,” she cried

So she went to the pub

To find her hot hub

And decided to go for a ride

The cycling today …

We started with a 1300’ climb – Connor Pass. Long. Gradual.

With a beautiful view from the top.

But, of course, we’re still in Ireland. So within two minutes of reaching the summit we saw another bank of lucky showers looming.

“Damn!”

The descent was amazing – but also wet and cold – as the rain started pelting us before we had gone fifty feet . . .

The other big drama for the day? Little Ann. She has been a little temperamental the last few days – kind of like this Irish weather.

Every so often, Diana’s chain and her front chain ring have conspired to become a little too close together; the chain would seize up – and it was either stop pedaling or break something. Diana chose to stop.

But she wasn’t happy about it.

I could disengage the chain, but figuring out the underlying problem was not really in my wheelhouse. We cleaned and lubricated the drivetrain and limped into the next town – where we found ATOM Bike Shop – run by Adam and Tom (thus, ATOM).

Turns out they are Polish guys from Krakow. They moved here about twenty years ago – as soon as Poland joined the EU – in order to earn more money. They just opened the shop about five weeks ago.

Anyway, they identified the guilty chainring tooth and did the bike shop version of dental work fixing it up. Seems to be as good as new now.

Last thing for today . . .

In case we didn’t make it clear before, Irish pubs are THE place for pretty much everything around here . . .

We rolled into Tarbert just before 6 tonight – with no real plan for accommodations. After consulting with the local butcher we headed to The Swanky Pub – the only place in town other than the Golden Coast Chinese Restaurant.

Once situated, we asked the hostess about a place to stay, starting with someplace on Google called the Lantern.

“I don’t rightly know, but I wouldn’t recommend [the Lantern]. Let me go ask me mum. She knows everything.”

A minute later, her ma, Caroline, who apparently also works at the pub, appears.

“I found you a place. It’s right down the road. Here’s the post [address], and here’s the teli. Roselynne is her name. Yellow house with pretty flowers out front! Can’t miss it.”

So now we’re staying in a stately big house. And Roselynne is an absolute peach.

Turns out her daughter lives in Upstate New York and one of her grandkids goes to a “prestigious” school there – but she couldn’t remember the name at first.

“NYU? Columbia?”

”No, no . . .”

Then she finds the school sweatshirt – clearly a present for grandma.

It’s Cornell! (Where Diana and I met.)

Small world.

Oh – and the Swanky had wonderful food, too. Cabbage and bacon for me (don’t worry – it’s not actually bacon – but it is good). The daily roast for Diana: lamb and veg and mash (which, I think, meant rutabagas). Both excellent. Good for the end of a cold, wet day on the bike . . .

Tomorrow it’s on to the Cliffs of Moher, and then maybe a foray onto the Aran islands before we hit Galway.