In the cracked streets trampled underfoot

In terms of community background, 53.1% of the Northern Irish population came from a Protestant background, 43.8% came from a Catholic background.

What is your first response to that demographic fact? Does it stir opinions or emotions in you? No? How about kerb stones painted red, white and blue? Or murals on the walls of the end of a terrace, commemorating the deaths of Charles Breslin, Michael Devine and David Devine of the West Tyrone brigade of the IRA? Or even roads that are so windy and rural, that you can't tell if you are in the North, that is further south than the South, or the South, that is further north than the South.

Once again I was cycling in Ireland, or Northern Ireland or both. Heaven knows how sensitive I need to be. I could have written a post all about the cycling, and be patient, I'll get to it. But it's not often that you get to cycle in two national jurisdictions on two consecutive days, and when one of them is having an election, where the most of the parties derive their origins from a dispute most of us have either forgotten, or never really wanted to remember.

See how careful I have to be with the words? It's a place where in years gone by, having the wrong name in the wrong street would have got you into trouble, serious trouble. But it's also a place that had a bloody and vicious war for nigh on 30 years and they euphemistically called it "The Troubles". Doesn't sound too serious?

At a family party about 10 years back, one of my brothers-in-law, meaning well, drunkenly told me "I don't care if you are English you're part of this family". What do you do with that? Incidentally at the same party, another brother-in-law drunkenly said something much ruder. But then, they had also grown up in the seventies, and while I was playing Subbuteo or three and in, they were playing with rocks and bottles and it wasn't much of a game.

United by a different language, that's often said about us and the Americans. Well I can tell you on the back of 17 years experience, and much study of history, it should be said of us and the Irish.

So, the cycling. It's gorgeous. Blooming marvellous, perhaps some of the most beautiful scenery around-just have a look at that photo! Once again I started from Culmore and headed north, over the border into the Republic, up the coast to Muff. No jokes at the back. Then it was up, and up into the hills and over the top to Buncrana. Last time I came this way the long downhill stretch was full of ice so it was quite nice to bomb down the slope. The wind though was starting to play its part, howling off the sea from the South-West. As I turned into it and headed down the eastern shore of Lough Swilly I knew I was in for a treat. It was one of those days you have to pedal to get down hills, and long for a climb to give you a bit of shelter.

My speed was not helped by stopping all the time to take some photos, nor by glancing at all the Election posters of the various political parties. And there are a lot of parties and a lot of candidates. On Thursday I was in the Donegal North-East seat, and most of the candidates faces looked very sombre and serious, befitting the seriousness of an 85 billion Euro debt I suppose.

One Sinn Fein candidate was smiling though (perhaps it helped), and he was later elected along with one each from Fianna Fail and Fine Gael. And in case you are confused about what they all stand for, I wouldn't worry too much, the general consensus would seem to be that the IMF is running the country anyway. Gael was certainly apt in all senses of the world, political storm, check, financial hurricane, yes. Vicious cycling headwind, most definitely.

One sign of the times was the huge number of empty but brand new houses at the roadside. The housing market has collapsed along with the financial market, and pretty much any other market you can think of.

Eventually I swung away from the flat and up into the hills again, after a short detour over the border into the North then back into the South. I was heading for an Iron Age hill fort called Grianan :

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grianan_of_Aileach

It is also the name of my shed, but that is another story. It's owned by the Office of Public Works (the fort not my shed) and has a commanding position overlooking the Maiden city (careful with words again!) as well as Loughs Swilly and Foyle. The final half mile of the climb was brute, on a paved access road up to the car park. By now it was a howling gale with rain approaching from the Atlantic, I concentrated on getting back to my temporary home as fast as I could.

It was a fairly long descent down into the town, through the Creggan estate, and towards the Promenade. Although peace has been present for over a decade, I'm generally careful about talking to people, my accent marking me out straight away. But one schoolgirl got a dose of Anglo-Saxon when she stepped out without looking, right into my path on a city centre descent. Good job too, I was doing 30 mph and she would not have missed me if I hadn't.

Finally with the wind at my back I made it out of town back to Culmore and completed 40 miles. The wind and climbing played havoc with the speed, and having been up at 4.30AM for the flight over, I was not at my best. Still an enjoyable ride though.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70439269