Ireland2011

I had been in the starting blocks all week in eager anticipation of escaping the shackles and bonds of work once more for a weekend away with the Northern chapter members to the Emerald Isle and, the Stone Throwing World Championship. Sadly however the latter was cancelled at the last minute but our intrepid northern travellers decided to go anyway!

At last Saturday dawned at silly o’clock and I soon fired the patiently waiting and loaded Vulcan up at the precise time of a quarter to six am for the ride down the M56 to the meeting point at Jnct 14.

There is something rather magical about leaving home early in the quiet of an early morning getaway, so much so, that as I headed for the meeting point on the M56 with my empty head full of magic, I vigilantly clocked junction 12 disappearing to my left, then junction 14! Just as quick! What happened to junction 13?... There isn’t one!! Quick blat down to the M53 and return to junction 14, to finally meet up with my fellow riders.

After the usual warm meet and greet it was off down to Holyhead the 130 or so miles, the HSS Stena Explorer and, one and a half hours later, the port of Dun Laoghaire.

The ride out from the port to our hostel was at first irritating due to the initial manic ride to escape from the ferry port which was congested with slow moving traffic, but this soon gave way to freer open motorway then back roads and lanes, where we could all kick back and enjoy the sweeping and dipping easy to negotiate minor roads.

After reaching the hostel at Corofin, County Clare, where Malteezer was the only camper, we were each allocated a cosy room, (nice Dave (Mutley) got the short straw and had to share with me!) before meeting up with the earlier arrivals of the Gnome, Sharron, John, Kathy, Donboy and Sandy.

The first evening we all congregated at the local hostelry, the Bofy Quinns where we were warmly welcomed by the owner Niall Cleary, who promptly thrust menus in our direction and set about pulling pints of Guinness.

Now, this was my first trip to Ireland and I had been informed many times that, “the Guinness in Ireland is totally different to the swill we drink over here!” One contributor even declaring that “It’s a meal in a glass!”

After ordering the absolutely gorgeous chicken in black bean sauce… Now was the time… A glass of the darkly inviting liquid was placed in front of the official taster, - me! A hallowed hush fell about the place as I raised the glass, halting only briefly to marvel at the perfectly formed clover motif adorning the creamy head, then the deed was done, I had tasted my first ever Irish pint of Guinness. All eyes were upon me as I announced to the silent and wide eyed with expectation diners, “Yes it does taste better in Ireland!!!” …And that’s official!

The ride out the next day was to the Cliffs of Moher, where we were disappointed to find that the viewing point had been cordoned off, and that a fee of six euro’s was being charged for a peek. Pensioners were being charged four euro’s, I was tempted at the reduced rate but we rode on to a car park just up the road instead!

The day was turning out to be un-customarily hot and sunny as we drank coffee and, posed for photographs for ourselves, the locals and the tourists, one American couple ecstatic at finding some proper ‘Brit’ bikers and declaring that they had bikers in the states as well, where they all go to a place called Sturgis!!

The ride back to the hostel, at the outset along the coast road then progressing inland in the blistering sunlight, was what riding a Vulcan motorcycle and being a member of the VRA was all about. With the gentle undulating ribbon of road twisting left and right, with slow rolling dips and crests, motorcycling nirvana had been found in Ireland!

The second night at the Bofy Quinns found that the Guinness consumption had stepped up a pace as the pool hustlers took to the floor! Our Swalla wielding a particularly mean ‘take no prisoners’ cue!

There is rare talent here methinks, but alas not by me, as I was soundly thrashed by all comers! After declaring that we would all have an early night the last of the revellers disappeared at 3.40 am!

The third day we were to escort our VRA friends John and Kathy home to Tralee, County Kerry. The weather did not look promising with an overcast sky and chill wind in the air, however to shorten the journey by some 70 miles meant that a short ferry ride across the Shannon was in order. The ‘Shannon Breeze’ sails from Tarbert-to-Killimer on the hour (return ticket for a bike and rider 14 euro’s), weighing in at 611 tons, the ferry can accommodate up to sixty cars, (and seven Vulcans!)

With one eye on the road and the other on the threatening sky, we arrived at John and Kathy’s house in Tralee to be welcomed by mum Sheila and sons Justin and Sean, where after welcomes and introductions we were treated to a pre prepared sumptuous afternoon tea of sandwiches, cakes, biscuits and warming tea and coffee. As we enjoyed the friendly hospitality of our generous hosts the heavy rain began to fall. All too soon it was time to leave but not before Sheila had jumped on the back of Ju’s bike for a spin up the road in the pouring rain! As we rode away from our friends, the rain began to get heavier, the realist in me knew that it was just a heavy downpour, the romantic in me would like to think the motorcycling gods were crying down cold tears as we left our friends far behind and headed once more for the Shannon crossing. At the ferry dock Chopper tried to wind us all up by saying the last ferry had gone as it was a bank holiday! As the cold driving rain continued to hammer down the smoking section disappeared into the toilets for the obligatory spark up, while the rest of us huddled together behind a wind and rain lashed information sign! The ferry thankfully arrived though and we promptly loaded ourselves on board for the return journey. After the return 20 minute crossing then the 60+ mile journey back to Corofin it was all change into dry clothes and a short walk to the Bofy for food, drink and talking horlicks. The ride to Tralee had been wet, enjoyable but tiring and amazingly most of our happy band retired early for a good nights sleep at 11pm.

Day three ride out found us descending on ‘Father Teds’ house, led by The Gnome, who showed off his motorcycling prowess with a spirited ride as we negotiated the pot holed and gravel topped excuses for roads leading from Father Teds to the ‘Corkscrew’ section of road. The day had remained dry and bright as we made our way to Galway for a meal and to visit a ‘TaT’ shop for souvenirs. We stopped at Gort on the way back for a coffee and discovered the ‘Ace Café.’ The ‘Ace’ opened in September of 2010, features two pool and two snooker tables along with a juke box and internet access, food and drinks are also available and is situated on Bridge St, just off the main square.

The final day at Corofin had the early birds waving off Donboy and Sandy, the Gnome and Sharron at 9.30am, as they were catching an earlier ferry. We were not far behind as our departure time of 12 midday came around. We had 163 km of M6 to dispatch before catching the Dublin to Holyhead ferry. 61 km from Dublin I checked the time… 3.15pm, the ferry sailed at 4.00pm! Swalla then shot to the front to hustle us along…Before running out of petrol within a mile of the ferry dock! Swalla managed to restart his bike and with a nifty bit of traffic dodging, led us all to a nearby garage where we all refuelled. Amazingly we made it to the ferry, but only just. As the bikes were being strapped and secured in position by the boat crew the bow doors were closing behind us!

The three hour fifteen minute crossing gave us all time to get some food and drink and to have a short sleep before we docked once more at Holyhead at 7.15pm.

Chopper showed us the way off the ferry as he switched and weaved between lanes, wagons and cars to the A55 (where he did a superb full chat, open pipe blast through the Conwy tunnel!), the M56 and home.

After stopping for a coffee at the motorway service area and to say our last goodbyes we hit the M56 again for our final dash north.

Swalla and Chopper were the first to peel off and leave us, then Mutley powered to the front and disappeared into the cloak of darkness. Then it was my turn as Malteeza and Ju slowed for their exit, I cruised by at a steady 70mph for my lonesome ride home, arriving at 10.20pm with 884 miles showing since I had left on the Saturday morning.

Bad points of the Ireland trip;

Sometimes challenging conditions of the back roads,

Leaving it all behind,

Coming home and going back to work,

No Karaoke!

Good points of the Ireland trip;

Sometimes challenging conditions of the back roads,

Late night ‘tinny’ sessions round the fire in the lounge of the hostel,

Being waved at, photographed and cheered by all the kids and people as we cruised past,

Superb ferry service,

The Guinness IS better in Ireland,

Great food and lovely people,

No Karaoke!

Odd Job.

With the purr of my engine beneath me,

And the warmth of the high sun above,

I’ll go over the distant horizon

Along the country lanes that I love.

Wild wood flowers and fruit will be growing,

Winding rivers flow down to the sea,

On my revered travelling companion,

I lay claim to a life of the free.

Theresa Wallach

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