The Tonson's in England's Lake District

We had a great week with the family all together again in Windermere in the Lake’s District of England. Mum and Dad arrived at the start of September for five months exchange with a local minister who is currently occupying our house and dad’s church in Melbourne. This provided a great crash and reunion opportunity for us all focused around mum’s 50th birthday party on October the 1st. Bevan, Ro and Nicola arrived three weeks ago from Germany and China respectively.

We've also been quite busy with various international visitors for mum’s birthday. The birthday itself was a great day for mum and the rest of us too. She opened about 35 cards in the morning and took about half a dozen overseas phone calls from friends and family. The four of us kids combined to get her cheap tickets to Germany to see a PNG friend who wasn’t able to make it for the birthday, so mum’s got another adventure in store, a bit nervous about doing it alone. A relaxed afternoon with our various international guests and then a great party featuring Scottish dancing lead by one of the locals and quite a turn out from the church.

I spent the weekend with a yachting team up from London to stay with one of their parents (a couple from the church) who took us hill walking/climbing yesterday and mountain biking today. It was great to have a bunch of us exploring the countryside and a bit of local knowledge to show us around. I hope to meet up with them again in London.

Other than that I spent the week, just being around, spending time with various guests, doing some bike maintenance, trying to replace my tools that were stolen in Dublin, planning my next couple of months and reading the fifth Harry Potter book over a few late nights.

Then it was time to go our separate ways. Bevan and Ro for the US for a couple of weeks before heading back to Melbourne for their birthdays. Mum and Dad for 10 days in the south of England and 10 days in Israel/Lebanon. Me onto Manchester, the peak district, and then Wales and South England before heading to Spain via Paris. It’s starting to get quite cold now so I’m keen to head south and will probably head to the south of Spain first and even Morocco to sit out the worst of the winter and then work my way back north to Paris in the new year.

(As I’m in the process of catching up, I’ve decided to add a short note about Manchester and the Peak District here even though, it’s a poor fit thematically).

Manchester doesn’t really stand out as a highlight. There was never anything really to attract me there except that I’ve so often heard it mentioned so I wanted to see it for myself. I had a pleasantly quiet Servas visit and checked out a couple of Museums which didn’t really blow me away. Two flat tyres and a drenching didn’t really help either.

The peak district though was definitely worth the visit. The name suggests mountains but it’s really about the valleys. A landscape that looks like was once flat but through which the high rainfall has cut some deep and beautiful gorges. It was the first time I’d stayed with a family of 5 (3 teenagers) and the Jagger family - and like their family namesake (I never asked if there was a connection) - are certainly not quiet, maintaining a healthy family banter. I really enjoyed this and just slotting in with them rather than being the special guest you become when staying with one or two people. I also had a great day walking the Wye river valley/gorge to Monsul Head and back up ´Deep Dale´. I just love a good bit of steep scenery, especially with pink/red coloured rocks, green hills, and the river flowing between. After the 12mi (20km) walk going to see the new Wallace and Grommit movie with the family was the perfect finish to the day. Then the next day (after another flat tyre) I rode west as far as Knutsford and caught the train to Chester and Wales, but that’s worthy of another post.

Dublin and Steiner Grafitti

Cork itself seemed a bit of hole to me, though the university campus is very pretty and looked quite lively, so the next morning I caught the bus to Dublin (I'm coming mum!). I hadn't been able to get a Servas host but the consolation was meeting an American by the name of Miles in the hostel. He and his mate had just flown in from the US on the start of a European tour so their body clocks were a bit out and his mate suffered from insomnia. So he and I set out to explore Dublin together. We had dinner and then stumbled on Temple Bar which I later discovered has a reputation for being one of the best in Dublin. This could well be true, we certainly had a great night, with some great Irish music and a good atmosphere. The next day he came with me to check out ferry options to Liverpool, I was surprised to be told by a security guard that they don't take bikes. This had me really worried, how was I going to get back to England? Anyway I just decided I'd have to wing it and just turn up the next morning as office hours were now over. So I tried to put that out of my mind as I'd discovered the Dublin fringe festival was on and Miles was going to join me in checking out a show called Steiner Graffiti.

It was about the life of Rudolph Steiner who I knew of as the founder of Steiner Schools but who apparently also made significant contributions in a range fields including physics, philosophy and medicine? (hmmm my memory is sketchy on that point now). He was also a Clairvoyant and very spiritual man. Anyway, the show was put on a by Chris Carlson who been in theatre all his life acting and then directing and was looking for a new challenge. He'd also had a great passion for Steiner and his ideas throughout the course of his life and so decided to put on a one-man show telling the story of the life of Steiner through the story of his own life. It was the most abstract piece of theatre I've ever seen, parts of Chris having a conversational monologue with his audience, parts of highly abstract performance that just held together in some sort of narrative, parts that were more clearly narrated from the point of view of people such as Taxi drivers who met Steiner and one part where Chris came and sat in the audience in silence for a few minutes to see what would happen. And it was literally a few minutes and that is a long time in theatre! (I wanted to say something to say but couldn't think of anything worthy of being said.)

The performance closed in a very dramatic climax but without really ending or finishing if you know what I mean, the narrative was left open. I normally have an instinctive dislike for this, preferring loose ends to be tied up etc but this time, partly due to my time with Krzystof, I actually appreciated it. The show had not so much told a story, though it had done that in part, as conveyed an impression of what life and life's quest had been for Steiner and for Chris. I think the idea was that to think one could do anymore than that in an hour or so would be an injustice to Steiner. Anyway I was in a sort of awe, trying to process all I'd taken in and wanting heaps more as well so I was dead keen to take up the offer Chris had presented at the start of the show to meet with him in the bar afterwards (and the way I felt I assumed everyone in the audience would be wanting to do this also). Miles however did not feel the same way, the show had been too abstract for him which I can understand. He's a great guy, we have lots in common and got on really well but this was a very abstract show, and he sort of came along because he wasn't doing anything else. So he left and I went to meet Chris.

Many other audience members were in the bar also so I though it might be difficult to get a word in, but while we waited for Chris to emerge I got chatting with a guy named Dermot who had quite a different perspective on the show and was less satisfied than I. By the time Chris appeared (about half a drink) most of the audience had moved on so it was just Dermot and I. Such was the nature of the show and Chris' body language - hunched over his drink and a snack - that we were tentative in approaching him even given his earlier invitation - "Can we join you or do you want a few minutes?" I asked. But he was quite ready and welcoming so we had a great chat, sharing our different interpretations of the show. Chris was keen to make the point that it was not supposed to be about his interpretation but that it would mean something different but equally valid to us all. Chris mentioned to me a book Steiner had written called The Philosophy of Freedom, in which I believe Steiner analyses Kant, Hegel, Nietzsche and other significant western philosophers and in Chris' words "explains why they think the way they do" and then outlines how to achieve true freedom and control of ones thoughts away from distractions and impulses - 'the hardest' of three paths to enlightenment Steiner put forward. Anyway it sounds right up my alley and I've been searching for it ever since (Oxford, Glastonbury, Charing Cross Rd, London) but to no avail. I've been meaning to start a web list of books people could give me, for now though, this is well and truly at the top – anyone? So it was one of the best shows I've seen and we had a great chat with the whole cast! I left so full of energy I couldn't help dancing and singing down the street - in public! I just love these things one stumbles upon, that seem potentially life changing.

The next morning was an early and stressful one though trying to wing it onto a ferry that didn't take bikes. When I got there though I found out that the two cheap crossings I'd been looking at did not take passengers either which is why it made sense not to take bikes. So no problem, I'd just have to catch the more expensive but faster sailing at 1pm. This gave me the bonus of an extra morning in Dublin which I used to check out the Chester Beattie Gallery (a tip from a guy at the ferry terminal) which had a great exhibition on the history of the world's religions. Then I rode back to the ferry, sailed to Liverpool and on arriving at 5:30 decided to think about training straight up to Windermere that night rather than the following day. It would mean a 10pm arrival but I decided it would be a great surprise for mum, to arrive a day early. So I did, and it worked fine and was a great surprise to the whole family now gathered there except Dad who said earlier that night that I'd probably turn up that evening to surprise them. He knows me too well and I love him for it.

The rest of that story though is for another time, but my tales of Ireland would be incomplete without a note about Ireland's dogs. As a cyclist I'm always wary of animals in general and particularly dogs - they're almost as unpredictable as pedestrians. But Ireland's dogs came with a special warning, one that I hope these tales serve to reiterate. Ireland's dogs can be very territorial particularly when it comes to cyclists who they've been known to chase. I first read this in Lonely Planet's guide to cycling Britain (which includes Northern Ireland) and thought ´no way´ they can't be that bad. In Northern Ireland I actually didn't have any troubles but my first day across the border I nearly fell off my bike out of shock at a little dog that came out of nowhere and started snapping at my heals. Luckily I was going fast enough for him\her to be just unable to catch me. From then on I had several similar encounters and began to become used to it, although some would jump out of nowhere and get me by shock more than anything else. One incident that particularly scared me was when a larger dog (about sheep dog size) saw me coming from a long way off and ran out, barking, to meet me. I was going uphill and realised I couldn't just out run it. As it got closer I didn't know what to do, instinct took over and just barked back as it got to within two feet. That scared it and it backed off momentarily and then came back at me, I barked again, with less effect but just enough for me to get beyond its territory and it let me be. On my second last day I had two encounters. One involved about four sheep dogs that ran across four paddocks, chasing me for a couple of minutes, I was on the road 20-30meters away but they still chased me. Then finally I got one back. I was riding along the side of the road (as usual) and surprised the living daylights out of a dog that had been sitting about 1.5 meters from the road's edge concealed in a driveway. Neither of us saw\heard each other but he\she ran off whimpering, I just kept cycling thinking 'finally, 1 to me!' So other cyclists beware; but dogs beware as well, cyclists don't always loose!

County Kerry

Killarney is a very pretty town, enough for me to spend two nights there after an awful start. I arrived after dark in torrential rain and tried to find the hostel I'd booked which was a bit out of town. Drenched and lost on dark busy roads I gave up and was pleasantly surprised to find myself at the Neptune hostel, large but with a nice atmosphere and free internet (only one terminal though). I'm not sure what it is that makes Killarney itself so pretty, a nice mix of trees and buildings I suppose. The Cathedral doesn't look anything special from the outside but from the inside you can see that it was built using the traditional style of stonework so it has a lovely rough and worn look but still with the smooth beautiful quality of a Cathedral. I was only disappointed not to get a better look because on both occasions I visited it was in use.

The beauty of nearby Killarney National Park is immediately obvious. Ross Castle and Muckross House both have outstanding grounds situated on Lough Leane. The whole area has this wonderful fairy type setting with the lake surrounded by picturesque mountains. It's not an easy title to award but on reflection I think this would have to take the cake for the most beautiful spot I saw in Ireland. I didn't know this at the time though as I still had the Ring of Kerry ahead of me the next day.

The first part of the Ring of Kerry is riding up into the mountains overlooking Lough Leane, a very long steep climb up to Molls Gap but the views looking back are fantastic, several tiered loughs running down the valley into the national park at the bottom. Then there is an even longer descent down the other side to the sea. At about this point the sun came out and I enjoyed lunch on the rocks by the sea and even a snooze on a bed of long thick grass. From there the sun stayed out all afternoon without a cloud in sight, and hardly a breath of wind either - a very rare day in the south west of Ireland. So one of Ireland's best bits of coast was at it's absolute best making a great ride for me. The next day though Ireland or more precisely - the Atlantic ocean) showed just how changeable it can be. I woke to the sounds of a strong gale outside and looked out on a completely overcast day. Luckily the wind was behind me, so I set off thinking all was okay really. About an hour in it started to rain, real heavy. At first it looked like it might pass so I stopped under a tree and had something to eat while I waited, but all it did was set right in, so I had no choice but to ride on. I arrived at Cahersiveen wet, cold and hungry. I ate my lunch huddled in the porch of a disused building and then straight away had a second lunch (a hot pie) in the foyer of the supermarket where I bought it. I wasn't quite up to riding on in these conditions yet so I stopped in the library to use the internet for little while before riding on. From there though I rode the remaining 40kms to Killorglin full pelt and without a single stop! The longest I've ever ridden non-stop. I'd like to say that such a flow of adrenalin was inspired by the beauty of the mountains, (and on a nice day there's a chance they might be capable of such a thing) but on that day adrenalin flowed simply as a means of survival. I was wet through and the cold wind was blowing so hard that to stop was freezing. Plus it was blowing behind me meaning that I was going at a great pace not wanting to stop and just hoping I could ride fast enough to regain the feeling in my feet. This did not happen however I until reached the lovely farm house hostel at Killorglin and its hot shower. The day was not without reward though. The hostel owner my not have been the friendliest person but she was a great cook and left out some homemade cream cake and apple pie! I can only hope she's one of those cooks who takes it as a compliment when hungry cyclists devour huge amounts of their cooking ;-)

The next day I set off around the next ring 'of Dingle'. The same wind was against me today although thankfully not as strong, otherwise I wouldn't have made it to Dingle. However it did make cycling around the very end of the peninsular that day (and indeed on this trip given the tight schedule I was on,) unrealistic - so I hitch-hiked it instead. I got two short lifts with locals, then was picked up by three guys form north-Queensland who were doing the loop to have a look just like me. This was perfect cause it meant we stopped at all the good viewing points - and there were plenty of them - it's a very scenic coastline. By the time we got round I realised that if it hadn't been for them taking me the whole way I probably would've had a very late night getting back - them's the breaks I guess. Back at the hostel I played cards with a group of Belgian cyclists who then shared their pie and cream with me making it free pie two nights in a row!

That left my final long distance ride in Ireland from Dingle to Tralee (about 50km) but my last day on the bike was not going to be a pretty one. The wind was blowing the hardest I'd seen yet, luckily though it would again be a tail wind. To add to that the first part of my ride was over the Conner Pass, which the Belgian's had ridden the day before and said it was tough on a good day and that I was crazy to attempt it in these conditions. But as I said, the wind was behind me, why should that stop me. Well the pass was long and steep, it didn't feel much like the wind was pushing me up but it must have been. Halfway up the rain set in again and the fog came down, so I never saw how far it was to the top, in fact for most of the climb I couldn't see more than 20 meters in front of me, just enough to avoid on coming cars on the narrow road. If I had been able to see though, I might have turned back, or at least taken several rests more than the brief one I did take. Not long after that though, the top just appeared from nowhere and I started going down With the gale force wind still behind me and now on a steep downhill boy did I go down fast! - too fast. Everything was now drenched in the rain so I had my brakes on full but was still going full pelt. It was all I could do to stay on the road as it wound it's way down. I didn't like to think what might have happened if I'd met oncoming traffic at that point and it certainly didn't help me to relax that the fog was so thick I couldn't see off the side of the road. For all I knew it could have been a 300ft cliff! Then, as if that wasn't disturbing enough, the wind completely changed directions and blew into my face. From going full pelt, I stopped instantly, and it dawned on me that I was completely at the mercy of the elements. Luckily though it quickly turned back and I careered down the remaining 10 minutes of hill without coming a cropper. The wind is certainly a fickle friend, very fickle indeed. The rest of the ride though was mostly uneventful, the wind remained behind me, the rain stopped and it cleared long enough for me to get a bit of a view of the mountains, though the best bits had been hidden in fog. What was miserable though was sitting on a bus (the train was just too expensive) to Cork for couple of hours in cold wet clothes. I'd wrung out my socks at the station and did change my shirt and socks while sitting on the bus but still felt cold and damp, a hot shower fixes everything though.