Day 16 – Arklow to Rosslare Harbour

The brilliant people at the Bridge Hotel in Arklow set me up with the perfect start for a day’s cycling: Homemade porridge, toast and scrambled eggs on toast. I got away on time. There’s nothing quite like a booked ferry to focus the mind on getting somewhere.

Fifty-eight miles on the map. Ten hours to do it in. Plenty of time! What could go wrong? Plenty…

The Swiss guys I met yesterday, shouted hello as I was looking at some tourist information in Arklow. They were off to play another round of golf. Arklow gave me a red-carpet ride out off town and for all I know, the impressive cycle lane continues along the highway all the way to Wexford. I’m hee for the byways, so I turned off toward the coast as soon as I could.

 

The lanes rolled through the countryside. It was already hot and I was pleased to have the breeze and some shade. As I climbed round Tara Hill, I saw the coast all the way down to Rosslare. The Irish Sea shimmering as it hugged the shore.

Courtown was very pretty with a beach and a little quay built where two rivers join the sea. When I arrived, a cyclist I’d met in Dalkey (place with all the castles) yesterday said hello. He remarked that it’s a very small island. I had coffee at the Harbour Cafe. Sixteen miles in the bag. A quarter of today’s miles already done in time for elevenses. I planned to be in Wexford for a late lunch. Two hours, twenty it said on Google Maps.

Down to Ballygarrett. I rode a few miles with a cyclist going the same way. He’s just back on a bike after a long time away from riding. He was on a hybrid he had in the shed, and is already talking about buying a lighter bike. We rode together down to Cahore. I stopped to look at the quay and watched the independent inshore rescue boat crew being put through their paces on Saturday morning training.

The narrow country roads were pleasant to ride. There were some testy little climbs and some lovely rolls down. I started to push down and use the momentum to carry me up the other side. Then I met a huge blue Newfoundland tractor with an enormous trailer. It was barrelling along and taking no prisoners. Then there was another, Then one overtook me. Having lunch at Kilmuckridge, I think I noted five different rigs going up and down the road at speed.

At Blackwater, I stopped to rest in the shade. I got talking to a lovely couple who were sitting with their dogs in the little park. They asked which bays I’d seen and where I was going. They told me Curracloe Beach was a must-see and only a few mins off my route.

How right they were. Curracloe is amazing the sand stretches for miles.

It seems everyone else in Ireland knows too and wanted to be there this afternoon. The lane was gridlocked. Every possible patch of ground was parked on. Some impossible ones and a, frankly, implausable one wre too. A chap in an enormous 4×4 was deliciously frustrated at everyone elses’ ineptitude. I watched the show as I devoured a Mr Whippy. I took no joy in passing that same 4×4 further up the lane as the traffic was perfecting the auto equivalent of the do-si–do. Okay, you got me. I lie like a cheap rug.

I saw Wexford Bridge before I saw Wexford. At half a kilometer in length, it’s hard to miss. I crossed and found myself in Redmond Place, a little, grassy square surrounded by roads.

The monument there is to Major William Redmond MP, who was killed in action near Iper, Belgium in June 2017. Like hundreds of thousands of other soldiers, he is still in those Flanders fields. Unusually perhaps, given the size of many of the war cemeteries, his grave is in a little out-of-the way cemetery near the village of Locker. It’s up a path away from the road in a corn field. There are only a couple of hundred graves in that cemetery and one of the other men buried there is my great grandfather who died a five weeks after Major Redmond. I’ve never been to Wexford before. I have no connection with Major Redmond, except somehow I feel one.

There’s a guy sitting on the base of the monument enjoying the sunshine. I ask if he’d mind moving, so I can see the inscription. He asked what I know about Redmond and we start chatting. Jimmy tells me there’s another, more modern monument to Redmond in Redmond Park a few minutes walk away. He offers to show me. Itt’s surprising what you can learn in just a few minutes about someone you’ve never met. As we approached the park and the monument, I saw there was a bust of the Major. As I looked him in the eye, I was briefly taken back to being in that Flanders field with several generations of my family to mark the 100th anniversary of my great grandfather’s death.

I’m genuinely grateful to Jimmy for showing me the memorial. I love the opportunities I have to meet people when I’m out riding. People I’d never meet. Conversations I’d never have.

The centre of Wexford was still busy on this Sunday afternoon. At 4pm it was mostly busy closing down. I tried two places for coffee. Both had open doors and closed counters. I touristed my way out of town and struck out for Rosslare, the last of my Irish seaside villages.

Even the roadworks on the main route couldn’t dampen the joy of riding safely along a major highway. Tucks and cars thundered past. I pressed on never worried if someone was going to cut me too close, because I was more than two metres from the roadway. I stopped a few moments in Rosslare. It has a lovely beach and a great view of the EuroPort with ferries docking. I didn’t want to delay, so I went to the port, where I waited in the sunshine in the queue for the ferry, knowing that my day was done and I’d be sleeping in Wales tonight.

What started in Belfast on Monday morning finishes in Rosslare Harbour on Sunday evening. Ireland, you have been incredibly kind and generous. Thank you.

Postscript

We arrived at Goodwick Dock just outside Fishguard. I was first to leave the ferry and directed out through the train station. My first night ride of this tour was three-quarters of a mile to the Rose and Crown.

Day totals: 66 miles, 3,010ft of climbing

Tour totals: 888 miles, 30,278ft of climbing