Riding mo rothar around the Ring

Finally managed to get myself to compose a post about my longest cycle to date, The Ring of Kerry. 

Playlist: Calvin's Spotify
Distance today: 8 km (morning commute)
Total: I've lost count.. somewhere above 3000km though.

You'll remember that back in May I came off my bike at silly speeds, on a silly, slippery, sloping, corner; I was taken out of action for a number of weeks and thought that I wouldn't be recovered in time for the cycle. I'd already missed The West Cork 200, and didn't want to miss both. 

As soon as I felt I had the strength back in my right side, I started commuting out to work on my Giant (which is no longer with us, but more on that later), to get the legs spinning again. I had maybe two or three weeks till I was headed off and I really didn't want to lose any strength I'd been able to maintain. 

As my wheels rolled on, so too did the weeks, and suddenly I was facing getting everything fully prepared to get to Kerry. My Scott was repaired, my helmet replaced, and my collarbone properly seated in my chest (I hear that's important). The plan was to make a week of it. Emma and I were going for 5 nights and then going to Galway for the remainder of the holiday. I was ready for action.

We'd purchased a bike rack from halfords, which I would like to warn you about; these are very fiddly, but they're absolutely fine. As it was my first time mounting my bike, I was a bit nervous watching it through the mirror as we sped down the dual carriageways, my mind filling with thoughts of it coming off and disintegrating like Alderaan at the whim of a Grand Moff. 

I assumed I'd be doing daily cycles after doing The Ring, so I packed pretty much everything I needed to last a few days. 

On the day of departure, I manage to completely forget my gloves, which are essential for keeping your hands nice and covered in skin should you come tumbling off the bike at any reasonable speed. This resulted in us halting our efforts, driving back to the house, picking up the gloves, and eventually re-embarking on the journey.. All to the displeasure of the stalwart driver. 

We had to detour to Tralee instead of going straight to the house we'd booked; Emma was purchasing a bike herself from Halfords. She wasn't going to be cycling in the event, but she wanted a bike and we'd get to go out on them together anyway. Once we picked up her Pendleton and affixed it to the rack (The rack looked silly for the first few uses; raised a little higher than it needed, and tilted too) we motored on back toward the proper route to the house. Up through Ladies View and onward through Sneem to get to Castlecove. 

Poor use of the bike rack. At least it was held in place well.

Ready, set.. 

We were staying in a lovely little house, detached from a café that I was familiar with, although I only learned this upon arrival. Having been a Caherdaniel summer-resident for about 15 years I know the place very well, traversing it during day and night throughout the summer antics. 

So the next day was the cycle. I was so excited. I wanted to see just how capable I was on the bike, and even more so how beautiful Kerry was to traverse on one. Woke early, circa 5:30 after a good night's sleep and a good wholesome meal the night before. Porridge for breakfast if I recall. What more could you want? Also ate a chicken wrap on the way into Killarney. 

Parking was mental. Genuinely the least impressive aspect of the whole endeavour. We ended up parking in front of some closed GP's office or Dental place if memory serves. Since it wasn't the starting line, we decided to call that my starting line. A few exchanges of excitement, and encouragement from Emma and I was on my way. 

..go!

Just like that, my 180km cycle was underway. I motored on down that road, past an intersection, and then saw the main road out of Killarney that the rest of the cyclists would be passing. I waited for a group to pass and followed in behind them. 

I drafted in behind a group that had just left the start line. All assortments of people, but these seemed to be the roadie type for sure. Got chatting to a lad, Mark from Lucan. Grand fella, riding a lovely full carbon Orbea. Now, the funny thing here is that as gorgeous as his bike was, no more than 5km into the spin and his chain snaps! Disaster for him. 

I stopped with him so he wouldn't be alone, plus, he was the only person I'd been talking to so I couldn't just abandon him straight away. His buddy, also from Lucan, Pat then rolled up, on a similar, but nicer, Orbea. Introductions all around, and then straight back to the problem at hand. Mark called the support number and in a few minutes one of the support crews were out in their van. They didn't have a chain for him, or a spare link, so they took him and the bike back to Killarney to the shop to get a fresh link. He'd be back on the road in no time.. but back at the start line. Pat and I motored on toward Killorglin. 

Killorglin is where my Dad lives. I've been there once or twice, and through there a good number of times so I knew the area. The road was fair most of the way there. Certainly better than I'd expected. We kept up a very good pace, about 28km/h - 33km/h or something was what we saw on our respective bike computers. Mine a crappy wheel magnet, his a Garmin. Strava recording it in my saddle bag on my phone (say goodbye to your battery).

There was a lovely short steep hill just after coming into Killorglin. People at the top cheering people who rode it hard, and they looked defeated any time a rider took the low gradient alternative road. I  relished the chance to pump the legs. Climbing has always been the tough part for me so I always try to do my best. Powered up, cheers all around. Felt great. 

Mark and Pat, gentlemen. 

About 200m after this hill was the first water stop. We stopped in the hopes of waiting for Mark. Some free timeout bars, some drinks, and of course.. porta-potties. What more could a sportive need?

15 or so minutes of waiting for Mark and he was back to us. New link in the chain and happy out. We pushed on as a trio. Shortly after this, we had our second mechanical. Well, basically I got a flat tyre. It happens. We had been keeping a very high pace after Killorglin, passing a lot of riders, not just the casual ones, but entire clubs too. Not in an aggressive way at all, but we gave them all the room they needed, but we just had our own pace and we were happy with that. Once it came to the downhills, we passed even more and got to some fast speeds. Not the best roads for the speed either, queue the flat. 

The best part was that I manage to change the tube very quickly, only to be met by the same support van that helped Mark. We flagged them down so I could use their track pump and get a decent tyre pressure instead of relying on the hand pump. Back to 130-140 psi and the rolling began again. Not only were we riding as a trio, but apparently our problems were going to work that way too. Two down, surely that'll be all?

Nope. Right before Cahirsiveen We hear a noise, one I was familiar with up to this point.. a broken spoke, followed by a severely buckled rim. Pat. Poor aul Pat and his gorgeous Campagnolo wheels. 

A rear spoke broke and warped his wheel. We widened the brakes to allow for the rim to pass through without any brake rub. It worked, but as you can imagine, it's never a good thing to ride on a rim that's missing a spoke. It wears out the rest very quickly and usually results in replacements or a lot of replacement spokes. 

We rode a bit more carefully, especially for descents, always making sure we were ahead of Pat in case his wheel locked up and took us out too. It sounds mean, but we essentially abandoned him for descents, hoping he didn't come off the bike at high speed. After each descent, we waited for him to make sure he was 100% and his bike was at least 65%. (These are not scientific percentages at all.)

Pat's warped wheel was looked at, once again, by the same support van. During our stop in Cahirsiveen we got to indulge in free sandwiches and tea. As we were on our way out up the slope we passed them, and low and behold they gave the wheel a bit of a truing but it remained fairly buckled. Enough strength in the wheels, a testament to the build quality of Campagnolo wheels, to make it the rest of the way! 

So that was the trio of troubles, for the trio of riders. These were offset entirely by the absolutely stunning views of the Kerry coastline. We stopped a few times, not from fatigue, not from lack of willpower, but to take in just what we were experiencing. Take a moment to check out my lovely steed, and of course, the much more important view, albeit, obscured by the focus on the bike. 

Ah, these pictures still have my old wheels. Once again trued and tensioned by Capwell Cycles before departing for Kerry, once again held up brilliantly. (you may remember he also sorted me prior to my 130km to Waterford where they also held true and strong) Shortly after this trip I ordered some Campagnolo Khamsins and they have been bomb-proof. Couldn't recommend them highly enough. 

I should take a moment to let you in on a secret. There is no such thing as a flat cycle in Kerry. Honestly, the entire route is rolling hills, ups, downs, and then some flat in between. You are using every one of your cycling muscles throughout the journey.

Notably, two climbs are spoken of highly for the route. One usually held higher than the other.. Moll's Gap. The 'lesser' of the two evils is considered to be Coomakista. I think it's a little unfair on Coomakista though. You arrive at Coomakista with fresh legs really, you get there at something like 70-80km in. You're only half way, and it's your first 'real' climb. Something like 7km steady uphill. Moll's Gap comes after 140km into the journey, and consists of a 10km climb. Moll's gap also features flat sections, especially at the base of the climb. You climb a little, then even out, round a corner, even out, dip a little, back up again. It's easier. It really is. Just.. you're tired at this point. 

We had a headwind pretty much from Killarney to the top of Coomakista. So, that's 90km of headwind. Which was more of crosswind for the climb, but just as tough on the body and mind. Coomakista was a real tough climb for me. I discovered on this trip though, that 13km/h is my slowest speed climbing. You really just grind your teeth and keep pedaling. When those lighter lads shoot past you and disappear into the mist, you just have to remind yourself that no matter how tough it is for you, you are going to get to the top, and you're never going to take climbs for granted, they are tough for everyone. Some people just get used to the suffering. 

Reaching the top was something crazy. About half way up we started to lose visibility. The place seemed to go right into the clouds. We went from 30°c to something like 11°c in the blink of an eye. See below.

Getting to the top and forgetting to take a drive-side photo, I was quite spent from it. 

From here it was all downhill - Until the rolling hills began again, and until Moll's Gap. Downhill straight into Caherdaniel. Couldn't wait. I was going to get to see my dear friends from Belfast at the site I usually stay at. My extended family really. 

They were waiting diligently for me, as I was passing so I pulled in, gave everyone their well-deserved hug, and met the new member of the family, Katie. Adorable little Girvin! 

So, shortly joined by Mark and Pat, and we continued on after tactical-ice creams. So began the rolling hills. The tiredness starts kicking in now. After one long climb and the remaining stretch of road doesn't feature any food stops except in Kenmare, which was gone by the time we got there. Closed up early it seems. (We had taken quite a long break in Cahirsiveen) Ten minute breaks all add up. Adding considerable time to your trip. 

Passing the house we were staying at was tough. Since I was tired now, I genuinely had the bright idea of just getting off the bike and going to bed. I'm pretty happy I didn't have the key to the house, and instead pushed the idea to the back of my mind and pedalled on. 

Nothing exciting from here to Kenmare. Literally rolling hills, gorgeous views, and a bunch of cyclists here and there; not many on the roads at this point. 

Quick break in Sneem to sort the shoes, give them a bit of a rest, and try some of Pat's absolutely filling Peanut-Butter flapjack thing. It was so heavy.. And full of energy, fortunately. 

So we got to Kenmare, and so we got to Moll's Gap. Quick water stop, stretch the legs out, and off we went. The low gradient start was ideal, we really wanted to ease into it. Mark was particularly good at climbing, the lightest of the three of us. He motored on up. Pat and I were together for some of it, but he eventually broke off. I manage to keep going fairly steadily. I did however manage to get quite low on my sugars.. typical of climbing as those are the stores you use when you're climbing. Took my dextrose, which I'd been popping throughout the day, especially for the many climbs, large and smaller. 

Didn't help much though, they kept me going but I had reached the limit on my sugars. I needed to get to the top and hope there was still food up there, or the ambulance that had passed me going up when I was feeling stronger. I took a considerable amount of time going up Moll's Gap. I met a woman going up who was also finding it tough, I shared with her one of my last dextrose tablets. I hope it made the difference for her. Eventually I said enough and just powered the last section, doing my best to get there without breaking my body. I got there.

An ambulance was at the top and I cycled up to them to ask if they had any dextrose tablets handy. They didn't, but they did have Lucozade. That'll do pig. I met the two lads who had waited for me. I had taken quite a while, so I was surprised they waited. Gents, absolute gents. 

We decided it was time to depart, and of course, being mostly a descent into Killarney and the finish, we didn't expect to stay together for it. We said our prospective goodbyes and cheers and the like and motored on. I took the front and I completely bolted. I was really rushing to get back, but I loved the speed of the descent.

Traffic had started using the roads again, although they were supposed to still be closed. This meant we didn't get to use the whole road, but took it handy on the sharper corners instead. Brakes were tested, and they held strong. 

The descent was fantastic. My bike handling skills were tested. Eventually after passing through Ladies' View and getting onto the straight road into Killarney I was able to really put the pressure down. I started to feel the last 170km in every pedal stroke but I had taken longer on the route than hoped, and I had Emma waiting for me in Killarney. I needed to get back ASAP. Plus, I was hungry. 

It was a very lonely cycle back to the start line. Since I'd lost the lads after the summit of Moll's Gap, I was riding alone and didn't meet another cyclist at all till I got to the finish. I was greeted with tea, a certificate, and a verbal pat on the back. Lovely. 

My phone had died, so I kind of had to wait to meet Emma, if I recall I had a few minutes of battery life so touched base and waited. You'll see below how I looked after reaching the finish line. I was told I looked completely drained. Scroll to the top to see a comparison. 

Straight from here to McDonalds. What else? 

The drive home to the house was long. Emma was as exhausted as I was tbh. I didn't get to meet the lads again. We didn't know how long they'd be and I was hungry to the point where I really needed to get food into me. It was quoted that the route burned 10k calories for me. Certainly felt like it. 

Once we got back to the house, it was pretty much straight into bed. I couldn't stay awake. 

The next day was considered my rest day, the legs were a bit stiff, and I wanted to get back on the bike. But that could wait one more day. Emma and I took a 4km uphill trip to Staigue Fort and back. I was so proud of her. Essentially her first trip on the new bike and it was all uphill! What a trooper. 

I was feeling strong that day. The legs were conditioned after the 180km and I needed to get the stretch into them anyway or risk feeling a bit weaker on the following days. 

I've the Nicolas Roche cycling coming up at the weekend, that's going to be fun. Maybe it'll warrant it's own post, or I might just tie in the last few months into one. 

I'll leave you with the following image taken the day after the cycle. (Clever, I know)

Take care folks, cycle safe.