The Road To Derry

June 23, 2014

So I've Derry in my sights for day one of this tour and with it being midsummer, meaning it doesn't get dark until near eleven in this part of the world, I've plenty of time. The weather remains high pressure over the UK and Ireland and indeed its a glorious bright Summer's morning without a cloud in the sky. One thing I forgot about is the light northerly wind. I was just reminded there by one of the people I phoned round to say Is off today. I'm starting by cycling to Derry, I said when asked. He being a cyclist too, straightaway mentioned I'd have a headwind the whole way. Perhaps I've bitten off more than I can chew, given the ride's one-hundred and eight kilometre length. Could be I'll struggle into Derry before nightfall.

Underneath the big sycamore tree in the back garden.

I lay everything I'm taking on a white dust-sheet in the garden, making sure I don't forget anything. This takes quite a bit of time and it has gone nine-thirty before I've everything packed and ready to roll. By then its time for tea and a piece of cake. A last moment to appreciate home sitting in the sunshine.

From home not far from the sea, the way is inland, gradually uphill and I'm feeling sluggish. Even though my camping gear is all lightweight and I'm not carrying anything I think isn't necessary, the bike feels as though there are car batteries in the pannier-bags. On the Bann Road, a scenic stretch between the towns of Castlewellan and Banbridge, I'm glad of the distraction when I see a yellow-green field of buttercups used to graze horses, which I stop to photograph. The horses seem accustomed to people and one comes over to the gate to be petted. Another horse following behind as not to miss out, quickly lunges up alongside and bites the first horse below the eye in a fit of jealous rage, causing the first wounded more in pride than physically to move off to the side, then the second offers her head across the gate, wanting this human interaction all to herself.

I made friends with these horses. The one to the rear has green eyes as she come along and bites the one to the fore in the face, pushing her away from the gate, then putting her head forward to monopolize any affection I dole out.

Hay bales in a nice line underneath dramtic sky.

I press on through Banbridge, tackling the town's steep streets just as the first dark rain clouds are building from the west. Then follows two miles of steady descending, the first time I've went downhill for any significant length of time today. This takes me to the village of Scarva where I join the Newry Portadown towpath. It will be all level from here to Portadown where I hope to make it for a late lunch.

The Newry Portadown Towpath approaching Portadown.

There are spots of rain for a brief moment as I enter Portadown. I read on an interpretation board that the town was formally an economic hub. In fact it was called "The Hub" as all the railways in the north met here: the railway being a major employer, but since the nineteen-fifties, the railway has been rundown with only a line between Belfast and Dublin and other cities remaining. So today's Portadown, looks pretty much a depressed place. Its a predominatedly loyalist town judging by the number of union flags on lamp posts, something the law on unauthorised flying of flags in the New Northern Ireland legislates against, but old ways change slowly. Its good to see in the street though, people of African and Asian origin and people from other parts of Europe. The face of multi-culturism.

I have a scout around looking for some place to eat. I don't want English all day breakfast, nor fish & chips, nor an overpriced small sandwich, the offerings at most of the eateries I pass. Then I spot a Portugues place, so enter expecting to be offered something different. But there are only tired looking ham sandwiches in the display cabinet. It doesn't look to be a prospering business as there are no other customers and as I'd entered I don't want to just turn and leave having seen the lack of interesting fare. So I ask the pimpled-faced teenage boy behind the counter for the tired ham sandwich and take a seat and look up at the TV with a Portugues news channel on.

I ride out of town under black sky and a down pour, the misery of which is made worse by standing still waiting at traffic-lights as the rain bounces off the road around me; and furthermore not quite knowing exactly the right way. I wish to go north out of town towards Lough Neagh, but I'm stuck on a busy road in the rain finding it difficult seeing through my glasses.

I eventually turn onto a quiet Broad to Loughgal as the rain eases and later when I reach the abovementioned village, I pick up the blue National Cycle Network signs, which lead to a place called Maghery, a place Kieran in the cycling club mentioned he passed through, so I know at last I'm on the right road again.

Alas the earlier mentioned northerly breeze I rode against all day combined with my legs starting to feel the burning fatigue of having ridden so much at the weekend, means I'm a good way short of Derry, but I'm content to finish the day on narrow little used country lanes near the south west shore of Lough Neagh, having only covered half the original distance I'd intented on doing.

Lough Neagh: The biggest inland body of water in the UK and Ireland.

The later part of my ride is along lanes like this.

Before I turned off into the stand of woodland on the right to camp.

Today's ride: 91 km (57 miles)
Total: 182 km (113 miles)

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