Day 2, and while Thursday was mostly riding in the Republic with a bit in Northern Ireland, today, or rather last Friday, was the other way around. The howling wind, more like a hurricane if you ask me, was still present, if anything it was even stronger. A few rain clouds were threatening and I was very glad I had changed my tyres the night before.
When I first took Kona over to Ireland last October I had left the old 25mm tyres that had been present since I did LEJOG. In 2009. A lot of miles ago. Given that I had fallen off last October, and an innocuous piece of road, and that the tyres were now more square that round in profile, I decided to fit a couple of new 23mm ones. Bingo! The old tyres pretty much fell off, with no levers needed, and it didn't take too much effort to fit the new ones either.
So less rolling resistance and better cornering, what more did I need? Well a tailwind would be nice, and I did eventually get one. But not till the second half of the ride, and after i had battled down a flat(ish) south-westerly road for an hour and a half.
I could also have done with a few more cyclists about town. I had noticed they are few and far between in Derry city, even at rush hour on Thursday I saw hardly any. This is different for me as Bristol is crawling with them, and I think this makes things safer. It was pretty clear that the drivers had no idea what to do when faced with a road cyclist doing 15-20 mph on their streets. It wasn't hostile, it was lack of experience or ability to judge my speed that caused them to pass too close or over take in all the wrong places.
Once out in the country it was a bit better, and the roads are a lot quieter than in Britain. I headed to Strabane, home of three of the West Tyrone Brigade I mentioned yesterday, all killed in an ambush by the security forces back in the eighties, on the road I cycled on out towards Plumbridge. All very, very young men, killed for something they believed in, but still, what a waste? A beautiful road it was too, the natural beauty of the hills interrupted by the strange beauty of the wind turbines. I don't really hold with ghosts, but I can imagine that if there are such things there would be a lot of them in those desolate places.
It was lovely cycling country again though, up into the Sperrin Mountains. Steep climbs were interspersed with steep, but largely straight, descents. There was some light drizzle coming from the side now as I headed east, but the roads were very quiet and the country became wilder and wilder. The original plan had involved a slightly longer trip to Cranagh, but I was up against the requirements of a family function, so, running out of time, I turned for home at Plumbridge.
I can't wait for an opportunity to cycle some longer climbs out that way in the summer, when hopeful it will be warmer and drier. But don't bank on it. I now had the wind at my back on a long gradual descent all the way to the obviously-named town of New Buildings, apparently a loyalist hotspot, if the kerb stones are anything to go by. I know these things are about identity and tribal territorial markers, and I also know I don't know the culture of the place like my wife does. But, I'd love to know how they organise that kind of thing, is there a New Buildings Pavement painting group?
Later on that night I watched a programme on the Irish TV station, RTE, during which one commentator said that the Irish reaction to difficulty is one of three options:
1. Apathy
2 Moaning
3. Pick up a gun
I actually think she's missed the fact that the people of Ireland did something amazingly constructive and brave when they forged the Good Friday Agreement, but then I don't understand the culture do I?
I was now on the final blast back up the main road to the city, over the Craigavon bridge and back to Culmore. 57 miles and I enjoyed it tremendously. If anyone wants to come with me to enter the Inishowen 100 sportive on 14 August, let me know, it will be fantastic.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70439335
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