Nendrum Monastic Site - Mahee Island - Triumph Run

The weather over the last week has been nothing short of spectacular. And, in such conditions, a voice in my head said "bike ride......bike ride!". How could one ignore it, everything was in place to make for an epic and enjoyable journey on any bike. So it seemed fitting that I undertake the run I have wanted to do for some time, and when I last set out on it, was unable to do due to traffic and road works on the main arterial route. Nendrum is a monastic site situated on Mahee Island, accessed by a causeway, the island juts out into Strangford Lough and is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been too.

I remember coming to this site as a student, being famous also for the excavation of a tidal mill, one of the few examples in the world from the Early Christian period. I also excavated at the nearby Mahee Castle when I was in Queen's. I have fond memories, rose-tinted of course, of long hot days with sunshine and good banter. Those halcyon days when possibilities were endless and the only thing limiting you was your imagination! Long gone now, of course. The ride down was better than I had remembered too, the long and winding country roads were agreeably empty, in fact on the video I have uploaded to YouTube, one biker friend commented on how deserted the roads were. I had tried to head up in the early afternoon, but the temperatures soared, to the mid 20's and I just couldn't stick in in my leathers. So my journey took place in the early evening. Perfect, as it turned out. There was still a distinct warmth, but the cool air rushing into the vents in my helmet was pleasant! The lanes follow, more or less, the shoreline from just outside Comber, the birds darting out from the hedgerows that widened my eyes from time to time, as I thought I was going to hit one or two. I flowed on the bike, seeming to ride in a "zone" which I find hard to describe, it was very strange, but I was definitely riding on an unconscious level, everything was clicking and the bike felt a part of me. It feels, I know this sounds strange, like a companion on journeys, rather than simply a mechanical tool.

You can see the revetment wall on the picture, the bike engine ticking itself cool after I pulled up. There were some other cars there, people picnicking no doubt, and why not? You couldn't ask for more perfect conditions! I rambled up the hill to the main site itself, passing through three outer walls. The site, as far as I can remember, is heavily rebuilt, and the round tower stump is not original, although he proportions and stone probably is. On the top the remains of the church are upstanding, as well as stone graves and coffin lids. The views are spectacular over the Lough, and all around you can see towerhouses and other sites of interest. You can see why the site was chosen, every approach can be seen in panoramic detail. I took some time at the top to sit, contemplate and generally think about things, sometimes a large sigh escaping before I knew it had arrived. But such cleansing moments are good for the soul. Things don't always go the way we want them to, that is life, but I have never been very good at dealing with this. I know I am a lucky sod....but I do wish some things had turned out differently. I think that such excursions are good for me though, as I tend to work through things whenever I arrive at whatever destination I am going to. I don't tend to think about things when I'm actually on the bike, I tend to be in a certain state of consciousness that would render any attempt to do so futile. 

I have found that my recent tendency to be quite reflective is heightened by these mini trips. So God knows what I will be like when, in a few years time, the epic trip takes place halfway round the world! I think I have pinned a lot on it, some sort of journey where I will "find myself" - but certainly anyone who has written about such journeys have all said that this does happen. Here's hoping it will for me too!

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

Hardcore North Coast Run

Sunday came about and the weather forecasts had said that the winds would gradually decrease and the rain to slack off. It appeared from the comfort of my sofa that this was going to be the case, so Kiv's duely came down from Derry and we met up at my house. The bike was taken out of the yard and the gear was put on. Fantastic! All was well. We began by heading on the motorway towards Carrickfergus, past the imposing castle and along the coast towards the smaller villages. It was here that the first shower was encountered. This wasn't in the plan! The temperature was also dropping and I was grateful for the heated grips! The roads here twist and camber as you hug the shoreline, the winds were also getting stronger and the 50-60mph gusts had most definitely not subsided! But as we passed through Glenarm and Cushendun and Cushendall you can't help but notice the scenery, despite the weather (or maybe because of it!). As you drive up the twists of the Glens of Antrim, you notice the smaller features, the indigenous woods that hug the steep moutain sides and the sense that you are transported almost back in time. A small goat will scurry from the road up a rocky outcrop to get out of your way and you can't help but smile. There are small (and larger) waterfalls beside you dancing off the basalt outcrops and as you pass you can almost 'smell' them. It's quite bizarre. Several places along hte road have literally been cut out of the cliffs, so you gun the throttle as you pass through them just to hear the amplified noise of your engine. With each twist of the road,I was having to downshift a gear as the surface was greasy, but the Metzler tyres gripped supremely and there was no difficulty. Once through the villages, a steep rise is negotiated and you find that you are on top of a mountain. Here the winds became exceptionally strong, enhanced by the lack of tree over and so they blow over what I guess is a moor unhindered. The view was spectacular and so we stopped to take it all it. The road here is quite straight, man's defiance of nature laid over the crest of the slope.

I knew that the scenery and roads were to get both more spectacular and challenging when we neared the North Coast. Around Dunluce Castlethe winds became scarey. To my right lay the churning and frothing Atlantic Ocean, battering the rocks and the coastline - sometimes the spray was coming that high (as I could taste saline water). Just after the majestic Dunluce Castle I had slowed down considerably as I was by this stage genuinely struggling with the winds. The landscape here will take no prisoners I thought, a mistake and that would be it. Bad thoughts to be having at any time on a bike journey, but in these conditions they were proving an unwelcome distraction. The descent into Portrush was taken gingerly and at that stage I was glad when Kiv's said that we should get off the coast road (it wasn't just me struggling in the conditions!). We took the North West 200 route to Portstewart and towards the roads to Derry. The markings for the road races are still there on the road and I also noted that the road surface on the race course was far superior to normal roads!

The ride to Derry was more sedate, although over the 'Coleraine Mountain' the winds weren't half as bad given that there are forests on either side, so the worst of it is sheltered from you. I knew that I would be riding home to Belfast later in the evening, although the last time I had done that it had become something of a spiritual journey, so I was actually looking forward to it. Sure enough I set off and I was in a bubble, or so it felt. The bike became a companion, and alive, rather than a machine. Once over the Glenshane Pass i stopped for a smoke, and the heavens opened. But there was no annoyance at this, I had all my gear on and although I was aware it was cold, I myself wasn't cold. I swept into Belfast, the faster I went the easier things seemed to become on the bike...and in my head! The lights of Belfast were welcoming after the darkness of the motorway, but I find on this bike, that being alone on the road in the dark is comforting in some strange way. But when I got home, I was glad to light the fire and lie on the sofa. But this days riding remains to date, the most hardcore conditions in which I've biked. I feel I can move up a gear now though - Tunisia here I come!!

New Triumph Tiger

After a hectic Friday (but a great Friday evening relaxing in front of the wood burner with a certain delectable someone) I was on the 212 to Derry on Saturday afternoon. I was heading up to meet Kivi and then to the outskirts of the city to see the Triumph Tiger. By the time we got there, it was dusk and a distinctly wintery temperature along with a ground-hugging light mist had descended on the area. The garage door opened and the order and tidy nature of the garage also gives good vibes. My eye immediately caught the sleak black lines of the Tiger, standing tall and looking exceptionally noble. I then noticed a classic BSA looking like it had just left the factory. A powerful looking Harley was also on its stand against the garage wall.

I took the bike out and decided the suggested test route was, indeed, best - up a hill on the 'B' roads then a loop round on myself to the dual carriageway to see how the bike handled on the tight twisties as well as the carraigeway power tests. I don't think the smile left my face the whole time....the power (and torque) was immediate but so manageable, the bike effortlessly leaned into the corners like it was an extension of my own body. The small wind deflector took away the buffeting I was used to on naked bikes. I decided on the spot that she was mine, and took her! The paperwork was completed and the cash handed over. I have to be honest and say that I genuinely believe I got a bargain. The bike is, probably, the cleanest I've ever owned, as well as the most powerful. But the paperwork with her goes back to the day she left the factory, service stamps from a Triumph dealer, all MOT's, every receipt for everything ever bought.

On Sunday, I awoke with a sense of anticipation, the weather was to be clear and dry (even if it was a little nippy). But a run into Donegall was on the cards and I knew the heated hand grips would take away any cold I felt.

The roads in Donegall were breathtaking, and on several occasions, we decided to see what the bikes were capable of (a lot is the short answer!). There were no "brown" moments as a cross wind hit you, the bike didn't even shimmy, she tracked straight and true. As we approached Donegal Town, we had high hills either side, the road cutting through the peaks like a thin black thread - a lake lay beside us (Lough Mourne then Lough Eske) with the low sunlight shimmering off the surface. A rest in the town square saw another biker join us on his GSXR 1300 who had followed us.

We shot the breeze in the square for about an hour, the row of machinery attracting attention. But it was soon time to go. I was to drive back to Belfast that evening and time was, alas, not on our side. After a delicious and warming dinner, I donned the bike gear and started the journey up to Belfast. It was beautiful, on the stretches of road (and there are many) that aren't lit, the stars were clearly visible; as Kivi had suggested, the heated handgrips almost personified the bike like she was comforting me. I never, for one second, felt alone on the journey. Even as I neared the peak of the Glenshane Pass, the fog blowing in with the cross winds across my path, the bike never missed a beat! I think we shall be friends for a while me and this lovely Triumph. I'm also reading Ted Simon's book[s] and he traveled the world on a Triumph!

Coastal Run

I have to say, I am still speechless after a coastal run from Derry to Belfast in its entirety on Saturday just past. What we missed last time, we more than made up for this time. Previously, we had taken a wrong turn towards Cushendall, and therefore ended up on the main motorway back from Ballymena. However, that mistake was most definitely not made this time! We set off from Deryy mid afternoon....the previous day's hot temperatures had subsided (just as well, as the run to Malin Head on the Friday was very hot). Instead of heading over the mountain towards Coleraine, we skirted round it, on a road that was the B 701....I have never seen a road like it, long sweeping bends, and even longer straights, with numerous undulations that were just phenomenal! We pluged through this road, past some forest parks, the trees closing in over the top of you to give the feeling of a green tunnel. The engine note got louder as it reverberated off the trees. We drove through the bikers paradise of Portstewart and Portrush, before heading on the Dunluce Road along the north Antrim coast.....views to the left over the drumlins, to the right out to sea....so much to take in. The Ténéré was working wonderfully, so balanced, I was able to lean into the corners at speed and with confidence in the grip the bike gives.

We passed White Rocks....with memories of body-boarding in December (no joke) in 2001. A pit stop here was inevitable, as the ass and legs were going numb! The views along the coast were stunning, and off the to the small rocky outcrop that is the Skerries. When I looked downwards, the colour changes at the base of the cliff were a multitude of blues and greens.

  

We continued along the coastal route, encountering tourist buses as we did, twisting the throttle to overtake on the short straights, the roar of the XT thumper engines clearly audible, as the people on the buses looked out their window at us....enviously (I am convinced!). Through the famous town of Bushmills, we drove down to the Glens of Antrim....a different landscape, but no less breathtaking. The glacial landscape undulated almost like a dreamscape, and this is augmented by the quaint villages along the route that add to the feeling that it all isn't real! Making sure we kept on the road (not taking the wrong turn), we headed towards Glenarm alng the coast, the road cut right on the waterfront into the cliff face. We passed indigenious forests that perched all the way up the slopes to the immediate right hand side, it was like something out of Lord Of The Rings! The tunnels cut into the rock ensures a glorious sound on a bike, you can't help but squeeze the throttle that little bit harder to ensure a louder noise.....childish....but fun! That night, all I dreamt off was the bike run, and how I wanted to do it again! I am hoping to buy a small clip on video camera, so that some of this experience can be shared.

The Classic Ténéré

What a weekend! What a result too! As anyone who has read any part of my blog since getting the SLR, I had musings about whether I should get something taller. This came to a head on Friday when I got a phone call from Kiv’s stating that there was a Yamaha XT600 Ténéré available on Gumtree (the popular auction / for sale site). This would entail some frantic and frenetic activity....but I had a hand to guide me, so all was well. I had had interest in the SLR, but not at the asking price so I had sort of rejected that outright. However, the SLR could be sold at the price the guy was offering, and I would still be able to buy the Ténéré and still have some cash in hand. Always a good thing. The Yamaha is older and had higher mileage, however these bikes are designed to drive down and then through Africa, there are still blokes going round the world on them....take a look at David Lambeth’s “Overland” website etc.

Once the SLR had been taken off my hands (a “Luck’s penny” thrown the buyers way of course), I headed to Ballywalter for the Ténéré. I got down and instantly as soon as I sat on it realised this was much more suitable. Then I drove it....despite it having 50 less cc’s than the SLR, the grunt is much better and also more readably accessible. Each gear has torque in spades and the manoeuvrability is also better. The back roads off Ballywalter proved an excellent testing ground. The deal was done and a “lucks penny” thrown my way. I only found out the other day that this is not only a nice gesture, but is to carry on good Karma with the next bike the seller will buy too. I drove home to Belfast, collected my stuff and was instantly on the road up to Portstewart to the NW. The journey up was, somewhat, more pleasant than the previous motorway experience, the Ténéré felt more....planted, more secure and more heavy-duty, which in turn gave me a greater degree of confidence. I drove up to Portstewart via the Coleraine route....and the amount of humanity on the roads was breathtaking. Cars would, in the main, pull over to the verges to let bikers through, which meant I was able to scoot up quite quickly. Occasionally, you would hear the wail of a race bike....a Ducati 999 or a Ninja or a Fireblade, they would pass me and wave as they did. My sense of excitement and anticipation was building with each passing mile!! And the Ténéré just made the experience even more pleasurable.

Just outside Coleraine I encountered the classic rideout, there were Nortons, Royal Enfields, BMW’s....the noise a classic makes is, to my ears anyway, quite unique, and always brings a smile. A bit like when you see a couple in an old Healey or something similar, the top is down, the spare wheel is strapped to the back, and they are quite content chugging along. Through Portstewart, the car traffic was backed up for miles, but I found the bike easy to manoeuvre, and I was able to “snipe” my way up main street, past the Anchor Bar and up to the pits, where Kivi was waiting for me, a big wave greeted me, and a “F*ckkkkkkkkkk” “Class”. We were surrounded by unbelievable race bikes, but I overheard a few guys talking about the two Yamahas side by side, my Ténéré and the Kiv’s Machine’s XT600E. I only found out the other day that “X” stands for cross (as in the American “School X-ing”) and the “T” for trail. We meandered round the pits, stopping at the Ducati racing pit garage, the Kwak pit garage and numerous Honda pit garages....the race machines are somehow other worldly....but fascinating.

This year’s NW200 was, frankly, not a spectacle that’ll go down in the annals as a great event, partly due to the weather and also for the pits having to be evacuated due to a bomb scare. I think most people can hear the collective sigh about this from miles away! I’ll say no more!

Old Memories

I took the opportunity with the good weather to don the leathers and head out on Friday night, Saturday and Sunday on the bike. The sky was clear and blue and the weather was perfect. I went over the Holywood Hills on Friday - there are some gems hidden away up here, taking Creighton's Green Road and stopping towards the top to admire the view[s] over Belfast Lough and towards Belfast. Spectacular! This is the location for the annual Croft Hill Climb, and I remember hearing the noise of the engines when I was younger. The road twists and for a part is completely enclosed in hedges. Like a green tunnel you wind your way left, then right, then left then right again.

The Lough was flat calm, and the sun shone off the surface. To my immediate right was a pathway that leads right down to the shore, from the top of the Hills. I've never actually walked the whole thing, which is a shame as it's literally on my back door step. I was the only person on the road, and I continued up the route, passing Creighton's Forest / Wood, another little woodland that I never knew existed! Although the original place name for Holywood is thought to be De Sacro Bosco (taken from the Monasticon Hibernicum) and it is thought to refer to the wood[s]. Although there are variations, with some evidence for ‘Ard Mhic Nasca’ [height of the son of Nasca]. This would have been St Laisrén (simply reading the Ordnance Survey Memoirs or Lewis' Topographical Dictionary of Ireland gives so much information on the history of an area before you visit).

On Saturday I visited Shaw's Bridge and the Giant's Ring. I excavated a Neolthic site beside the Giant's Ring in 1995 and it broughtback a lot of memories. The site is nice for a walk through thte twisting paths, and eventually you'll find yourself down and the river and the Shaw's Brige walking paths. Although with the sun blazing, a long walk was not what I either needed or wanted to do in bike leathers! I can remember being taken to the Giant's Ring as a child, and actually thinking the stone dolman in the centre was supposed to actually be a ring worn by a giant! (My youthful imagination ran riot!). There originally would have been more to the dolman, possibly a passage tomb or something of that ilk.....it is also though that the banks of the henge might originally have been white, making the site visible for miles around. But as I stood on top of the banks and looked across to Ballynahatty (the site I excavated) I was instantly transported back to that long hot summer, I remember the dog from teh neighbouring farm (Polly) and old golden retriever / lab lumbering along towards us, and promptly plonking herself beside your trench and dozing in the sunshine. Halceon days. I've noticed recently that I am looking back at such times with rose tinted glasses. An inevitability of getting older perhaps.

It is still quite surprising to me that situated within a stones throw from the urban sprawl of Belfast lies such a site. There is something mystical about it, although I am not one of these people that will sit in the middle attempting to meditate and chant "Ummmmmmmmm". Not my style, although whatever floats your boat! The roads around here are a gem...a tad rough on the surface, but scenic and a delight to drive (also not very busy). You can occasionally hear the nosie of a sports bike engine at high revs not too far away....someone else is clearly out enjoying themselves! I found myself standing by the river's edge having just come from the Giant's Ring in contemplative mood....time to think....I think.....is always good. I love the idea of "regret nothing", but I simply don't believe that there are people out there that would not like to go back and re-do some things over. I enjoyed the ride....and if the weather holds, will definitely do it again on weekends. There are raths, castles dotted everywhere. Especially on the coast[s]. I think a run down to Nendrum (which has Mahee or Magee Castle beside it) on the shores of Strangford Lough is called for! I'll definitely bring the camera, as the landscape there is breathtaking.