Saturday 31 March 2012

Co. Down (Strangford) Run

I had taken the week off - not because I had anything specifically planned, but because I had to use up annual leave before the year end that coincides with the financial year. But my luck was in, the weather was nothing short of glorious and the sun blazed in the clear blue sky. I took the opportunity on Tuesday to head down towards Nendrum on Mahee Island. However, on the outskirts of Comber there were traffic delays and my patience snapped in the heat - so I decided to go down the parallel coast to Portaferry. The roads were warm and the tyres seemed to stick extra well, my confidence increasing as I pitched the bike into the corners at ever more extreme angles of lean. I took the opportunity to pull into a layby opposite Mount Stewart to sit on the warm grass beneath the trees and look out towards the Mournes (now obsecured in the heat haze). But I neeeded (and still need) to clear my head. Perhaps we only realise what we have when it is taken from us - obtuse I know, but I think that I have, unfortunately, needed this reality check to realise what I have. And I have recently lost something that I loved, and the pain remains acute.


But when I took the Tiger out on this run, a sense of calm pervailed and I was able to think clearly, even temporarily. The thing I like about being on the bike is that within your crash helmet, you are in your own universe, and you control everything in it, therefore nothing can detract from whatever train of thought you have. Being on the bike also focuses your mind, your mind can wander though not in the same way as it does in, say, a car or when on a stroll. With each turn of the throttle, the rear tyre 'bit' into the road, immence grip and torque that was acting as a proverbial punchbag for my aggression and sorrow. the weather too was playing its part - fine weather such as this always seems to make any problem slightly less of an issue. But then every time I pulled over, heavy thoughts started edging back into my head.

There were no clouds in the sky, there were in my mind.I took the beautiful roads down towards the harbour town of Portaferry, although a few times I got caught behind traffic, but I was soon able to overtake and the roads swept beside the Lough shore in front of me. On several occasions, the humps in the road acted as lift-off ramps but the bike tract straight and true on landing, not even the hind of a 'squirill' landing! I was able to lif my visor slightly, the fresh air had a rejuvenating quality, it felt like some sort of new baptism, I know the comparison is a little rich, but that's what it reminded me of. The small coastal villages are exceptionally quaint, but there is little doubt that most are in desperate need of redevelopment and investment. Former fishing villages have felt the pinch of that declining industry, and with rose-tinted glasses I almost find myself wishing for a simpler time, perhaps where the hassles of modern life are gone. I know this isn't a reality, it's a dream. But then we have to chase our dreams!

Once I arrived in Portaferry Harbour, I was able to look across to the small town of Strangford, an area exceptionally rich in archaeology and history - Audley's Castle (a 15th Century Towerhouse) was clearly visible - perched on it's craggy island outcrop still to this day looking strong and emboldened. I somehow felt I could have stayed there forever, but such thoughts are flights of fancy. It feels that I have been hit by another body blow, the bike ride helped me to focus my mind, and conversations with friends have helped things even more, but even so, I wish some things were different, but do I have the power to change them to the way I want? That is a harder question to answer. These things all swirlled round my head as I took the opposite coast route (beside the Irish Sea) back towards Belfast. I have to say, that on days like these, there are few places in the world that rival this place for beauty. The ride back up was just as beautiful, the Irish Sea Coast was somehow more 'wild' than that of the Lough, but no less stunning. I am hoping there are plenty more days like these! A ubi altera dolor pervenire - Ego amant te