Now is the Hour ---------

The final "post" for our UK Cycle Tour - oh how much we have once again enjoyed the experience.
Living on the ground, cooking in all weathers, meeting lovely people (honestly, not one nasty experience - well from the humanoids anyway - and even the "dogaroids" were all woof and slobber!

Amazingly our bodies stood up to the test once again and had we stayed on the bike the end result may have been different. More on that subject from Val.

We loved Ireland, the weather was "iffy" to say the least, but as the Irish weatherman used to say each morning;

 "There may be patches of sunshine in between showers and some of those could be heavy otherwise the outlook is more of the same"

Cold and wet was the antithesis of the welcome we received from the people. 

In Kilmore Quay,May opened the front door of her Harbour Lights B and B on a wet day with no sunshine.

"What are you doin' out in this weather, come on in and get yourselves warm"

She was the quintessential Irish Landlady, talkative and kindly - gave us the choice of two rooms, stowed our bikes in her shed, allowed us to drape our dripping wet tent over her woodpile (which took up the car space) and let us cook tea in her kitchen when we discovered the local fish and chip shop closed early on Monday evenings.

Val loved the decor at Harbour View, though May had been hurt by a poor review which was critical.

As we rode past her house, Vanessa sent one of her kids running to ask if we would like a cup of tea.

Chrissy, turning into her driveway leapt out of her car as we rode into her orbit with the same invitation.

After meeting, and getting a potted history of the family members in a photo on the wall, she made us ham and mustard sandwiches before introducing us to her stuffed exhibits - a present from her sister, with whom it seems, she is still on good terms. 

In the village of St Mullin, nestling above the Barron River the local publican invited us to camp on the village green, at the end of which were the ruins of a 7th Century Monastery.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Mullin%27s

Where modern day gravestones mingled with those from the past -

Here Lies
Art
King of Leinster
Faithful Defender of his Country
Poisoned at New Ross
1417



The path along the "Barrow Line", as the canal was called, was a smooth grass track and the locals were campaigning to keep it that way.

They were also opposed to a new power transmission line and elsewhere wind turbines, so once again demonstrating that the world over, we have similarities to our old friend Don Quixote

While the canal was almost devoid of activity, there were a few people living aboard narrow boats among the many that were crying out for some love and attention.

Val poses in "Peg Washington's Lane". Peg was a washerwoman in days gone by, who, when her path to the river was threatened by the construction of a new building, was able to negotiate inclusion of a lane "wide enough for a woman her size" which indicates she was "just a slip of a girl!".

Don enjoyed Ireland so much he was in a constant state of levitation.

Kilkenny we loved

And went to a Hurling game "The Fastest Game on Grass"

This was half time activity, when every Dermott, Seamus and Sean
were out having a hit.

A friendly Robin at Kilkenny Campground

Topping up the tank on the Grand Canal bank, two days from Dublin.

Some people like to take all their friends camping as well, this unit appears capable of around 40.

On a wet day in Dublin city, we were about as miserable as these figures in the riverside "Famine Memorial"


And now the very , very  last word from ME, Val.
Just one week out from coming home I damaged my knee. There was a loud bang, as I turned,
even Don could hear it, and I was stranded, on one leg, in a very quiet lane in Angelsea.

Treating my leg with frozen peas.

The delightful, and kind farm folk, whom we had just met and arrange to camp on their ground, helped us. Delyth delivered a hot roast dinner to the tent.

And next morning Don found the slugs doing the washing up.

Gwyndaf took Don half way across Wales to find a hire car. I enjoyed an ambulance ride to Bangor Hospital, and the bikes dismantled, nestled in the car.

So the next week was spent as 'car campers" . We saw some lovely N.T houses and industrial history.
We ate our sandwiches, in expensive car parks, and viewed the country side through a veneer of rain on the wind screen.

We obeyed the Tom Tom, frequently 'turning round when safe to do so. We missed the casual stops by the road to take photos and chat to people.

We missed the easy of scooting round a city center on the bike. And, strangely, after all our moaning, we missed the challenge of the weather, wind and rain.



On our last night in UK, we luxuriated at "Ash House Farm" B and B in Northwich





I apologise to the Physiotherapist, 'I am sorry I am so impatient", (about my knee).
He kindly said, "No. you are motivated"
And so I am, I look forward to more long bikes rides, and will go and do my exercises right away.


Thanks for Blogging along with us.

Trangia Cooking Recipes

***NEW RECIPE***

Braised Pigeon with Vegetables

Selecting a Pigeon.

There is a large population of Pigeons in the UK and I am surprised there is not more use made of these plump, grain and seed eating birds of the air, to say nothing of the service one would do by reducing the number of them sitting in trees or on power lines calling out their brain numbing cooing, (grer-glur-coo-per-ploo, grer-gler-coo-per-ploo) the words that come to mind in the repetative call varies with the mood of the listener.

(Note; If not in the UK or Europe, please check the protective status of Pigeons in your country)

1. Catch or Capture your Pigeon - as these are not available commercially (as far as I know)

There are several methods for doing this, like trip wires, nets, gluey tree branches or even concealing oneself in the foliage of a Pigeon roosting tree – the choice is with the chef (or maybe the Chef's assistant)

2. Despatch your Pigeon.

Pigeons in the above condition, are inclined to be more philosophical about departure from this mortal coil – (the most difficult part of the recipe to be sure, and some may prefer to get this done professionally)

3. Dress Your Pigeon.

(This description is something of an oxymoron as this involves “undressing” your bird)

 If on a cycle tour, or a bicycle is on hand, using the whirring back wheel of an inverted bicycle is ideal, you will need an offsider to spin the pedals.

Once all feathers are removed, use a sharp knife to open up and remove innards (dispose of these by wrapping and placement in the nearest rubbish bin, NOT the Doggy doo bin if in UK, you may be fined for improper use!)

4. Stuff with whatever herbs are available and rub skin with light cooking oil, chopped herbs and ground sea salt.

Note; If your Pigeon has been captured in the inebriated state, then marinading will be unnecessary, so just rub in oil and sea salt.

5. Fill the Trangia burner with Methylated Spirits, light up and put the large Trangia pot above the flame.

6. Simmer for 30 minutes – this may involve a refill or two of Methylated Spirits (take care not to add spirits while there is still flame evident) – then add vegetables, starting with potatoes and adding others according to cooking time - and simmer on for another 30 minutes or until potatoes are cooked through.

Pigeon meat should be falling off the bone, take care with small bones.

Dish up and ENJOY.

(Illustrated by Don)

BTW, please let me know how you get on with this recipe, as I am yet to try it (-:

More Bit's from Val

The second two thousand kms achieved, across increasingly hilly and challenging landscapes.
Don, it seems can ride his bike up anything.

While I have had to push and shove mine up more vicious, [but not often long hills], than on any other bike trip.

"And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover" Masefield. This I saw etched into a public bench.

Soon after 'Richard Burton", well, a rather more handsome and well preserved version, brought his mug of tea to our cafe table. Instantly, after a fleeting reference to Cambridge, he gave us a lengthy, and most interesting talk, about the Neo Pagans who were led by Virginia Woolf. We shook hands and he trotted off to complete his daily 10 mile walk.

A Midwife, after giving us directions to the Stanley Spencer Art Gallery in Cookham, gave me a quick run down on the home birthing situation in UK these days.

A nice chap, with a stutter, spent a long time telling me about the tides, and therefore dangers of swimming in the estuary waters near Swansea.

George, who had worked in the mines, and now for the council, was quick to blame Maggie Thatcher for all problems in South Wales.

'Mrs Doyle' dragged us out of the rain, and into her spacious B and B, (TV with Wimbledon, generous heating and a bath). It seems the Hoover repair man would not come out to a B and B, no back up service for B and B washing machines. So she went right over the street, and bought another one, this very day. Service assured she is doing a huge catch up on sheets and towels. We are both watching the weather and possibility of rain.

Sherry told us of the challenges of fostering five children, while running a farm or two.

And Sarah, a delightful art teacher from Dartmoor, was setting out on a three week cycle ride in Ireland. We bonded fast, and agreed that cycle touring was the only way to go, and that maybe living outdoors was the biggest attraction.

Yes Sarah, living outdoors, but also the chance meetings of so many generous and fun people.

While Mrs Doyle happily let us fry up some bacon in the evening for our dinner, in her kitchen, Don startled the manageress of the Haltwhistle Hotel. (Michelin star restaurant). "Is there anywhere we can cook up some dinner - round the back maybe??? We have our little camp stove on the bike!!. Just her look said No Way.

Where are we Staying?

Since leaving London, we have been hosted by Warmshowers, cheeky camped, sneaky camped, wild camped, family hosted twice, a farmstay and now have splashed out on a "lonestar" room in a Mumbles, Wales hotel.

On a Cycle Tour with Val and Don,

You never know who'll be put upon.

For at the end of each long and weary day

They search and seek a place to stay.

Yes, Windsor Castle in b/ground.

“Is there somewhere we can pitch a small tent”

The supplication can be intense.

“We're from NZ on a three month tour,

Very tidy, friendly and sure

To be good neighbours for just one night”

(Though our appearance must sometimes be a fright)

Jerry said, "Yes you can camp on our lawn!"

Warmshowers, a cycle hosting org is widespread

But needs wi-fi to arrange a bed

Then though they say they”re home to host

Are often away on some foreign coast

So though we use it whenever poss

Success can be a gamblers toss.

Cheeky camping is another mode

If you find the right person on the road.

They are the free and easy kind

Who find the local rules a bind

“Just camp o'er there behind those trees”

Or

“That patch of grass should suite your needs”

Brecon Canal, Wales

So armed with the authority so loosely given

We set our camp and start the oven

Sweet smell of onion, herbs and more

Attract comments from those who pass us by

Well, most at least, some tend to stare

But (so far) none challenge our right to be there.

 

(Not Mrs Gandhi)

Then the days when way out back

The open gate, a rough side track

Terrain is steep and stony too

Fallen trees, blackberry and who

Know's what among the trees

We step it out, here's a patch

The tarp goes down and in a scratch

Val has the sleeping all arranged

And smells of cooking waft oer' the range.

Lovely Friendly Farmer "Sherie"

There's a Farmer shifting cows

“Hullo there” comes our call

We do the standard camping pitch

Which along with our advancing years

Moves tough old farmers to shed a tear

“Yes, over there beside that stack'

Or “If it rains, move in the barn

You don't mind pig or cattle smells,

I hope”

“We love them ' I hastily reply

“I used to farm near Gundagai”

Val hides her concern and trusts my skill

At calming Bulls and angry dogs

Clearing camp sites, moving logs.

On the Road - Domingo's Story

Just in case you don't know me, I am Domingo, Don's bike, so named because he bought me at Tomas Domingo's Bike Shop in Barcelona, way back in 2008.

I do like to get my side of a bike trip into print now and then – I must say it's not easy, but whenever there is no internet connection, there is sometimes the opportunity to download some of my photos and get my levers on the keyboard.

So in spite of seeming to have my calipers out of joint, I do have to be fair and say how jolly well the two old stagers, Don and val are getting on.

So here are some shots from my “Handlebar Cam”

It's quite demeaning, with all your bits-n-bobs exposed, especially in a public thoroughfare like the arrival area of an airport. Took this shot of  my girlfriend "Hurdy Girly" in just such a pose.

Val is pretty good at getting things covered up fairly smartly, but it does take some time to recover some composure.

It was really tough the first couple of weeks in the rain and cold of “late spring” in Scotland and Northern England, there were times when I felt like letting my tyres down and calling it quits,

 Not sure I wasn't the only one judging by this photo.

On a better day Hurdy Girly and me get a chance to catch up on some road talk.

I was impressed with the Bike Station, though I was left outside peeping through the door while "Gurdy" had her gears looked at - she would have preferred a female mechanic, but none were on duty that day.

I'm going to put this up in Don's workshop with item 5 highlighted.

I thought "Gurdy" had been consigned to the "recycle bin" when I saw this, but it was just Don having me on.

Coastal Footpaths are not designed for the likes of me!

This little "crittur" was saved by me swerving aside. Don picked it up and put it safely off the road.

(He's a bit soft on snails since the Book Club read a nice story based around them.

This is me cooling the wheels outside Sandringham gates, you know, the Queens weekend batch.

We were spoilt rotten in London, secure in the backyard of Val's old schoolmate Judith, who has a cool little house in Putney. I really got the giggles when I had to stand on my back wheel to get through the house and onto the street.

Oh boy, was Don excited when he found this in a Waitrose store, though I was the one who had to put up with the extra horsepower he put onto my bottom bracket.

It brings a tear to my rearview mirror when I see Dad's out on the cycleway getting the younguns onto two wheels.

Did you know that William Morris aka Lord Nuffield, started out making bikes like this one I saw through the window of his house in Oxfordshire.
(It was love at "first bike")

All for now, more from the workhorse of this outfit later.

:-)