Co. Down and Strangford Coasts (Videologue)

From BMC to The Strangford

The day started off utterly miserable, overcast with periods of heavy rain; not exactly ideal for an enjoyable biking run. But the forecast said it would improve over the course of the day, although in Ireland, the weather is a fickle thing! Around midday, I duly made my way up to the bikes' garage location to collect her, the plan was to head to BMC Bikes to meet Billy and Dee. Driving through the urban sprawl was trying at best and downright infuriating at worst! I arrived first, with Billy there to greet me, his inquisitive eyes pouring over his recent and exceptional handywork, quickly grabbing coolant to top up the header tank. We chatted for a while before the unmistakable sound of Dee's air-cooled R100 engine parked up. The craic was, as they say, 'ninety' with a plethora of bike chat, potential modifications and trip routes into the Kingdom of Mourne. 

As soon as we pulled out, Dee asked me to show him some of the south Down roads, wherever I wanted to go, we'd go. A route immediately formed in my head. We took the main road towards Downpatrick, cutting off at Saintfield towards Killyleagh / Killinchy. The back roads were, in the main, agreeably empty although the occasional lorry foiled the best laid plans. On the stretches that were empty, the sheer torque from the Tiger gave an adrenaline rush, I had forgotten the joys of twisting the throttle, flicking her into sixth gear and watching the speedo climb and the hedgerows blur past your peripheral vision in a continuous line of brown[y] green. Your gaze is transfixed on the road ahead, and nothing else enters your head space, just you and the road. There were, though, several spots where tractors had pulled mud and stones onto the road and more than once, the back end slid out alarmingly, but I managed to regain control and plough on (no pun intended!).

We went off-road at St. Mary's [Styles] near Killyleagh....there are the ruins of an old church which during my research for my book, Valhalla and the Fjord, I discovered probably relates to the early medieval motte built on the site of the current somewhat Disney-fied castle. The bike snaked as the tyres struggled for purchase in the mud. But once there, we started to discuss the Templars and other such things, conversations you just don't seem to have at any other time.....alas. Suddenly, a friendly Jack Russel came up to us, with his owner, a small woman, peering curiously at the site gates; who were these two guys standing chatting against Medieval wall remains? She entered and immediately we said hello, that was that last word we were able to get in edgeways. She did, however, make some good points....there were broken bottles strewn about the place alongside the remnants of fires and attempted fires, something I only noticed once I had bothered to look at the ground around me. She informed us that particularly during the summer the place was a magnet for anti-social behaviour, hidden as it is from the roadside by thick trees. The conversation then turned to how when she was a girl, she got a clip round the ear for much less! As did we all, but something she felt was lacking in today's youth. As we left, I could feel a lack of grip from the rear end, Dee pulling up alongside me to let me know my rear tyre was caked in mud, before he was covered in it as it flicked off the tyre!

B Roads & Castle Ward

We took the back roads towards Quoile Castle and the Audleystown Road....I know this area quite well, there is lots to see and the B Roads are simply glorious. The bike seemed to lean into the corners well, and I know that I could have taken more speed both into and out of the corners, but I am a little rusty! We stopped at Castle Ward for a breather....the views (even though at this stage is was quite dull) were spectacular. We were the only ones there, which for me sums up a flaw in modern society....why don't more people explore these places??

As we took in the view at Strangford, Dee made an interesting observation; the quiet. Sure enough, there was not a sound other than the bird song, which was plentiful. It was quite something and once you stopped and listened, I found that it instantly relaxed me even more. No sounds of traffic, car horns, bustle. I think it was good for my soul. I have cut through the grounds of Castle Ward before, I think it is something you're not supposed to do, but we weren't stopping in the grounds, and certainly weren't taking advantage. So we did....the grounds are spectacular with mature trees as far as the eye can see. You pass the main estate house, its front face in neo-classical splendor. We 'pootled' rather than gunning it to take in our surroundings.

The Cuan
We were soon on the road to Strangford town itself, passing over a causeway over the Lough before the sweeping bends allow you to flow and be at one with the road. Strangford town is quaint and picturesque, although it's safe to say has fallen on tough times with the wider economic downturn. Restaurants such as the Lobster Pot are now closed, their signs disheveled with individual letters hanging down acting as a metaphor for what has happened. The Cuan is the only place I am aware of still open in the town's square where you can go for a drink and bite to eat. Having not stopped since meeting in BMC Bikes, this seemed like the thing to do.

The Cuan has an open log fire burning in a traditional styled saloon/lounge, you step back in time but it provides a nice contrast with either the ultra minimalist or 'contemporary' styled restaurant interiors just about everywhere else. As soon as we entered, an elderly man came up and started chatting. It seems to me that when you are on a bike, people stop and talk to you....something I discussed with Dee as we waited on our grub. The old man ruminated about the state of the world today and our little province, highlighting the almost laughable debacle of 'flags' whilst the health service descends into decay and the potholes in the roads seem to get ever wider and never fixed. He pointed at pictures hanging on the walls and told how the town was once thriving, the sepia pictures were taken of a thriving fishing industry, when I looked out at the harbour there were only small pleasure boats bobbing up and down, a fall from grace indeed. It seems to me that the whole place will have to adjust and concentrate on capturing tourist and day-tripper money, it certainly has the scenery and the history, with a towerhouse castle (probably 15th Century) standing in the heart of the square. As soon as he had come in, he left, going through to the main bar, leaving Dee and I to comment on what he had said. A nice guy was the general consensus. We didn't so much eat our food as hoovered it, the appetites were in full swing from the bike ride. The sun had started to blaze, streaming through the windows and causing severe overheating in my bike gear. But as we had a smoke outside, it felt good on my face. The journey was to resume but this time, alas, back up the road and homeward bound. Although the sun had come out, it was turning a deeper shade of red as it began to sink on the horizon with a slight temperature drop to match.

I flicked down the helmet's internal sun visor and enjoyed the road home, these roads are great and (if) summer comes, they get even better. I think our timing was spot on, as soon as I parked the bike in the garage, it got noticeably colder and that evening damp that comes with a Spring evening. The day was simply awesome, but it was something of a whistle stop tour, if a weekend can be set aside, there is much more to see and do, and also to take the road further south via Ardglass, Kilclief to Newcastle and the Mournes. They await another day!

Strange Reflections and Emphatic Moments

There are days that are reflective, I find that I am susceptible to them…some small thing can set it off. Take today for instance, a guy called into the office for a meeting about the accounts tender; he was slightly diminutive, flushed rosy cheeks but smiling and exceptionally polite. His suit was a tad ill-fitting and a bit too big for him, the older briefcase he carried seemed to add some small level of charming dishevelment. I found some form of empathy for him almost overwhelming….as I stood in the kitchen I told myself it was ridiculous, I have never met this man, nor do I even know anything about him. I am at a loss to explain it….maybe he reminded me somehow of my father. I found myself just hoping he was happy, hoping that his life was okay. A similar incident occurred in Sainsbury’s one night when I had to help an elderly gent in the store pick up his basket, his small collection of purchases, clearly for one, made me emotional as I queued behind him at the checkout. That particular incident as I thought later, probably did relate to my father….frailty is coming and I am powerless to stop it, I have no control and there is something of a role reversal, with my desire to somehow nurse him through it. I think my fear of loss increases with his age. Such thoughts inevitably lead to memories of my mother, and her illness and passing and other recent losses. The emotive response[s] tangibly weigh me down, like a black storm-laden sky overhead. I deal with this on my own with such moments I suspect, but maybe therein lies the problem…..maybe I haven’t dealt with them at all. 

Parts / Service / But a Triumph?

The past few days have been something of a trying time….I had ordered a raft of parts for the Triumph, but only one has fit correctly. The centre stand seems to be the main problem, with a plethora of advice from suppliers, manufacturers; none of which has helped and none of which, it seems, has been entirely accurate. I have had to send back several parts, and am currently awaiting a refund for them. Thank God for Billy in BMC for his expertise and, more importantly, patience with the whole process! The radiator grilles didn't quite fit either and he has had to custom make a bracket to ensure they do – the lower (oil) grille is still uncertain! The parts aren't cheap and for this reason I get frustrated with the process.

I now have a decision to make, do I persevere and order a part from the U.S (still uncertain whether it will fit), or do I leave it and order engine bars (that I am fairly certain will fit‽). Decisions decisions! With the apparent springing of Spring, it seems the sort of weather to be out on a bike. Hopefully soon the new Go Pro will be pressed into action, although even here, the handlebar mount is obstructed by the brake master cylinder, and I cannot find a suitable place to mount the camera! Ahhhhhhhh!! The fine weather has enabled a friend, Dee, to get out and about on his BMW, something he has openly stated he is relishing (the accompanying pictures he sent with his Cheshire-cat grin was proof enough!). I am hankering for a run….when leaving the bike in for her service the other day I had almost underestimated how good it would feel to be back on two wheels!

We are hoping for a run around the west coast of Ireland sometime in May – before another friend returns to filming duties. Before that though, I will (hopefully) revisit the Strangford Lough route[s] before then; although my success in getting Valhalla and the Fjord published has stalled with flattering comments and feedback, but no-one willing to actually publish the book. It might be that I have to examine self-publishing (making it available on Amazon etc), but this is an expensive process. In the interim, wish me luck with the parts debacle.