I had planned the route down the eastern shore of the Ards Peninsula to the last tee....or so I had thought. I had blogged recently about the plans, and the day came with the threat of afternoon rain turning to yellow weather warnings for the following day. It was today or not at all. I donned the leathers but for the first time in a while had to put a wooly jumper on underneath; a nip in the air that is so indicative of the approach of frosts here has arrived, and the last thing I wanted was to catch a chest infection or cold (amazing how the older you get the more you turn into your father!). I set off and traveled over the Craigantlet Hills, leaving enough time for the 'school mum run' to have returned home. Once at the top of Craigantlet the cross winds started, quite strong in places, but I think I have become a much better rider and there is no substitute for experience. The winds don't affect me as badly as they once did. There are sections of the hills where the roads twist in continuous S bends, but they flow, cambered in your favour in some of the locations so you can really push into the bends hard. I then had to travel through Newtownards to the Portaferry Road and for some reason, it is not a place I am a fan of. I couldn't wait to leave the sprawl and get onto the open road. The Portaferry Road hugs the Strangford shoreline, and the winds were even harsher here; but I was more worried about salt air. I had, though, planned a turnoff just before the woodland that indicates Mount Stewart Estate. It was the first time I have been on this road, and although there was some traffic, it didn't disappoint. The road follows the back of the estate and the tree lined aspect is one I tend to relish. There are good twists that enable you to get plenty of lean angle, but not let up on the throttle. It was at this point that I was starting to get into my groove.
I had planned to stop at a motte near Dunover; the road was perfect, but finding the site was more difficult than I thought. There were several tree covered candidates, and on my second pass, I think I found it but alas I couldn't stop at it. The site appears to be on private land, and even then the motte seems much truncated and reduced in height, either naturally or by human hand I don't know, but this was one site I had to strike off my list.
I continued towards Greyabbey, the main reason for the ride, turning off onto the Cardy Road. This road was more of a country lane with a veneer of tarmac (perfect!). There wasn't another vehicle on the whole road, and I think it is this terrain and road type that the Tiger is built for. Occasionally, the undulations were such that I caught a little air. I suddenly, and much faster than I would have liked, found myself in Greyabbey, although it comes upon you rather than you gaining a sense that you are about to enter a town. The abbey wasn't hard to find and I parked beside the visitor's centre. The abbey remains poke above the tree line tantalizingly, and it fills you with a want to explore. I walked round to be confronted (and I use that term advisedly) by the main abbey building and the splendid door in the west wall. The arches are decidedly pointed, an element of gothic architecture (and something for which Greyabbey is famed). But to my eye, there are still Romanesque influences in the ornamental design work. The height of the building is tremendous, and once inside you can't help but look up, craning your neck which I am sure the designers and masons would have wanted you to do. The site is surrounded by trees, and their rustling in the wind only adds to the sense of atmosphere. There wasn't another sinner there! I walked down the nave to the crossing and chancel trying to take everything in, stepping out of the ruins towards the chapter house. The sun was trying to split the clouds and the trees and it bounced off the masonry highlighting the chisel marks. I found the site amazingly peaceful and tranquil. So much so that I simply had to sit down, the tranquility of the place is almost overpowering. But a stupid grin came over my face as I sat with the sun on my face.
There must be something about sites like this, I'm not religious, but I believe in the spirituality of a place. Out of no-where a dog came up to me with a ball in his mouth, a lovely shaggy 'real' dog and a woman walking him wasn't long after. We got chatting and it turns out she lives very close to the site. She remarked that she usually has the place to herself, something we discussed as it still baffles me why people don't visit or make use of the places we have. The buses arrive, apparently, when there is a cruise ship docked in Belfast and the tourists can't get enough of the place. I sat and contemplated everything running through my head, and when I next stood up, there was a sense of clarity and calm. Must be why I come to these places, Inch Abbey, Nendrum etc. It helps me think and also de-stresses me. Through the treeline, you can see Mount Stewart, and following on from the fabulous day I had at Castle Ward, this site is definitely on the to-do list (although waiting for the weather means it'll probably be mid 2014!!). I got back onto the bike, and used the back roads to head towards Ballywalter, hitting the coast and the strong winds that were there. Although they weren't presenting any problems, and the scenery was spectacular, I was tired of being buffeted, and turned off onto the Woburn Road. The tree lined route had a Spanish avenue feeling, and was agreeably empty. However, by now the dark clouds were starting to loom overhead and I turned for home, feeling satisfied and fulfilled. I took of my helmet, sat down with a cup of coffee and realised why I ride a bike! 
