First Time Taking A Pillion

We were both nervous – I had never taken a pillion before and she had never been on a bike before. How would the bike behave? How different would it be in the corners? These are the sorts of questions that raced through my mind. A strong cup of coffee later and I had a route in mind. I wanted to stay off the major (dual carriageway) type roads, but at the same time, I wanted my pillion to be able to see something – the weather was fine and the first experience can so often dictate your view of something, for me, it was imperative that this first run was not only a success, it was fun and interesting too.

I chose Nendrum Monastic Site as our destination. Firstly, I knew the roads there were B roads, tight, twisty but also with good straights as well as spectacular views over Strangford Lough. Secondly, Nendrum itself is a fantastic place, and has a cool vibe. The main(ish) road to Comber was a bit nervy at first, she was counter-leaning (instinctively) with the bike then sharply correcting into an upright position, but we soon got over that and the bike handled well. I was surprised how similar the handling was to just me riding it. Although I had to be gentler leaning into the corners, use the back brake a bit more than normal and be more gradual with my throttle application, other than that all was the same. I think in part the nerves came from the more than usual heightened fear of a slide or coming off, as I was so concerned with making sure she was safe.

The church ruins at Nendrum

The crispness of the air as it rushed in the vents in my helmet made me feel invigorated, and with each passing corner, we were both gaining in confidence; although occasionally there was a slight clash of helmets as I braked hard. Just outside Comber, I turned off to head towards Mahee Island and Nendrum. The roads were slightly greasy and this was compounded by tractors having dredged sods of soil and stones onto certain parts of the roads. But again, even in these conditions, we were fine – although there were one or two ‘squirrel[y]’ moments. We passed into the headland that protrudes into Strangford Lough, the sunlight glinting off the water surface. The smell of vegetable crops in the warm air was a pleasant change in what was clearly the first day of Spring (or at least it felt like it). We passed walkers giving a friendly wave and I was glad of the internal sun visor. Once on Mahee Island, we passed Mahee Castle, and I explained that I had excavated there many years ago. Now looking a tad over-restored in my humble opinion, but nevertheless a picturesque location.

Once at Nendrum we climbed to the top and the inner enclosure, the earliest church dating to the 6th Century.We took in the view and opened the coffee flask. Taking in the panaroma, with the Lough stretching to the east and Portaferry and Strangford to the south. I think we were both sitting taking it all in - that quiet contemplation that these sorts of places seem to induce.

We were then off down the road to Killyleagy - the straights and undulations of the roads are something to behold, and on a bike, on a nice day I don't think there is anything nicer. On more than one occasion we were caught behind a Sunday driver, and a racing bike overtook us at full chat, the engine wailing as it did so. I know it made me jump as he seemed to come from out of nowhere. We parked up at the harbour in Killyleagh, sitting down to overlook what were now really quite choppy waters. The boats bobbed relentlessly struggling to keep to their moorings. You could taste the salt on the sea air, surely good for you?! We pootled out of Killyleagh, retracing our steps back home. I can't wait to do it again!

Causeway Coastal Run

Some might say that a coast run along the Causeway coast in January was madness....but why not? The plans had been set I was to meet with my old friend Kivi and Joe The Mod in Carrickfergus....a medieval town on the shores of Belfast Lough. The weather had been overcast, but was clearing as the morning progressed and with the winter riding gear on (and heated grips) how hard could it be?

Joe The Mod (who I am assured genuinely loves his Vespas etc) turned up on a lovely white BMW R1100RT, Kivi on his newly purchased BMW R100PD/GS and of course I was on my Triumph Tiger 885i. The Causeway Coast run genuinely offers the biker everything they could want, there are long straights, sweeping bends and corners, tight twists as well as by-the-sea roads, mountains, steep gradients and downward slopes. The variation in such a relatively short distance is immense, and I was told that the route was recently voted (somewhere) as the 7th best motorbike route in the world, which doesn't seem as far fetched as it sounds.

After leaving Carrickfergus and (I'm sorry) but the inaptly named village of Eden, we were on the coast road proper. You start to climb as you head towards Whitehead, and before you know it, the road is hewn out of the rock face and the sea is (far) beneath you to your right, the bend sweeps as you go through a rock cut tunnel and you can't help the temptation to gun it just to hear the overrun in the exhaust in the tunnel. Childish, but that's what it's all about! The roads were slick in places, but as ever, the bike gripped well, still managing to 'bite' into the tarmac as I twisted the throttle in places. The further up the coast road you head, in my opinion, the nicer it becomes. Towards Glenarm, the road is again cut, it seems, from the solid rock cliffs; the road sweeps left and right, but flows so that you are almost in a trance as you lean into the corners. There are indigenous woods immediately to the left, coming right down to the roadside, but the road resembles a black lace lain over a boulder field. I know that might sound bizarre, but it really does.

We were diverted off the road up a steep climb and through a wooded area....it seemed that it enveloped me, the moss covered trees and hint of mist made you feel like you had stepped back in time somehow, with the bike's headlights occasionally illuminating brilliant greens and browns. I could see the rainbow colours of some oil spots on the tarmac, and I felt a little slide on more than one occasion....but nothing that got me concerned or worried.

Once passed Cushendall, we ascended the mountain pass towards Ballypatrick Forest. I think in technical terms, this is probably the most challenging part of the run, the climb is very steep in places and the corners severs, but I suppose for that reason, it is the most fun. The Glens of Antrim rise majestically behind you, but your mind is concentrating on taking in the waterfalls, moss covered rocks and darting birds that are immediately all around. The road then opens, and you find yourself on an open moor and atop a mountain, the winds rushing all around you. But the road also straightens out and you are able to open the throttle. For a time, the corners are no-where near as severe, and therefore the speed you take them at increases.

There are literally tonnes of archaeological sites all around you if you wanted to stop and look. The colours of the moor seem to me to be every conceivable shade of brown. I think in these sorts of places the colours of Ireland and Scotland are very similar.
We were heading towards Ballycastle, where a coffee stop was the plan....but a toilet stop was also uppermost in my mind! It's funny how one little thing like that can quickly become an obsession on the bike when you know it's getting close.
The road at this stage was cut through a forest, pine I think, but the crests on the straights were agreeable for the suspension and the temptation to truly open the taps is something you have to resist! We passed Bonamargy Friary just outside Ballycastle - well worth a  visit if you are in the area. The picture was clearly on a much nicer day, but the now slightly overcast skies made for a more "moody" experience and vibe.

We arrived in Ballycastle and it was still quite light, but at this time of year, you are acutely aware that that won't last for long! But we had promised ourselves a coffee, and the thoughts of a large cup of steaming black were all I could think about. With Torr Head protruding into the sea behind us, we went for our refreshments in a cafe that is perched over the car park for the Rathlin Island ferry. The craic was, as they say, 'ninety'. It was also agreed that these runs were to become a regular feature.....I can't wait.

Something else I can't wait for is the Adventure Bike Rider Rally in May. I think South Down and the Mournes is the venue for that.

The Midlands of Ireland Bike Trip

The plans were made....the boys rolled up to my house around 7:15 on Friday night. The sound of Kevin’s booming Harley echoed round the street. We were heading down south on a proper bike trip, the intention being to explore some of the sights on our own back yard and to drink in the evenings. A good plan! By the time we left my house, it was around 9:00pm. The destination was Drogheda. Alas the road down was mainly motorway or N roads (National roads), so it was somewhat uninteresting. But it was my first time riding in a “pack” and new experience was a good one. We arrived in Drogheda and headed straight for Newlodge Hostel (within a stone’s throw of Newgrange Neolithic site). 

Four bottles of rough red wine, drunk between the three people that were drinking made for a sound sleep! The craic was good. The next day we went straight to the visitor centre and picked tickets for Knowth....part of the Newgrange complex, although all the staff were so keen to help us, when we tried to push our luck by asking if we could leave our jackets with the helmets behind the desk, a stern woman came out and took over from the front of house staff "We can take your helmets lads...but you'll not be leaving your jackets here...okay" Jokes were made that she was prepared to accept our helmets without jackets! Knowth is not as famous, but actually larger and more impressive. We wondered round the site, taking in the panoramic views (you can see the Wicklow mountains) as well as absorbing all the information on the site itself.

We entered the mound and immediately plunged into a falsely lit passage that carried on into the centre of the mound, if my archaeology days serve me correctly, where a tomb chamber is situated. I’ve always enjoyed taking in my surroundings, and have never enjoyed being part of a tour of places like this, and I think most, if not all, of the lads are the same, so it wasn’t long before we were off doing our own thing. I’ve always enjoyed taking in my surroundings, and have never enjoyed being part of a tour of places like this, and I think most, if not all, of the lads are the same, so it wasn’t long before we were off doing our own thing. We arrived back at the car park, and then the rigmarole of putting all the gear back on began. The thing about biking in Ireland is that you have to be prepared for all four seasons in one day! We left the site with only a vague idea of where we were going...nothing was booked for that evening and there is a sense of apprehension about that, but mainly an overriding feeling of utter freedom. You are limited only by your imagination and that, for me anyway, meant I could simply enjoy and “be” on the roads. We did, however, make a conscious decision to keep off the main roads, preferring to stick to the minor roads that are much more fun to ride.

Pack Riding
The frequent sun-showers did not bother me though....if things got too cold, I simply turned on the heated grips, something that always lifts your spirits. We pulled in at anything that looked interesting, and stopped for lunch in Navan. It never fails to make me laugh when you pull into somewhere like that, everyone staring at you with a mixture of curiosity, amazement, awe and maybe even a little fear. You can see on some people's faces the desire that they were doing what we were doing. It was only when we stopped that we collectively realised just how hungry we were and a slap up feed was the order of the day. Interestingly, two female waitresses kept eyeing each other up, and whether they were in a relationship or not, I don't know, but soon we noticed how they kept touching each other - clearly thinking they were being discrete, we laughed, but had to hit the road again.

We were taking turns leading the pack - something I had never done before, but we ride in a offset pattern, I was told that this meant that the leader could look back and see everyone, but also meant that if something happened, the others could easily avoid any incident. Sensible, as if you ride in a straight line, you'd trip over each other in an instant! The smaller roads were great, tight, twisting bends that I felt able to throw the big Triumph into, despite slightly greasy roads. The decision was made to head to Sligo - a town several people had been out into and we were informed was a good bet. We arrived in Boyle on our way there, stopping off at the abbey to see if we could ring ahead to get accommodation. It's quite a site - although later interfered with to house a garrison, the remains still make you take in a deep breath. The road to Sligo was enjoyable - the sound of Kevin's big V-Twin booming in my ears. 

We got picked up and went straight to the B&B for a shower and to get into something more casual, before heading into the town itself for an Indian. Sinking Tiger beers with the meal before heading to Kennedy's pub on the river front were I switched to Corona. I slept that night like a baby.

The final day we had always planned to go to Carrickmacross megalithic complex - a burial / ritual site that is vast in scale. We were to then make a trip across to see W.B Yates' grave. The site of Yates' grave is quaint, situated within an early monastic site founded in 547AD. But recently they have changed his headstone for something more modern. Why? God only knows! Still....there we were, and I am glad we stopped to look at it - the idea of stopping at a graveyard was initially something I wasn't too keen on! We continued towards Donegal where there were plenty more bikers on the roads. There is a thrill in each person overtaking the cars, twisting the throttle and feeling that instantaneous bolt of torque and power that means you can sweep past cars with ease, the boy racers looking on in jealousy in their lowered, modified Honda Civics and the like. The towns were quite busy, which surprised me for a Sunday. We rolled into Donegal Town and pulled into the square, heads instantly turning to see what was coming. The main aim was to have a coffee before heading through the Blue Stack Mountains, back towards Lifford. The mountain run is phenomenal, the road surfaces are smooth and flat, cut through gorges and beside lakes and rivers, themselves dotted with crannogs. The bends are sweeping meaning you can really keep on the throttle, perhaps just dropping from 6th to 5th gear before you enter them.

Although I got soaked through to the bone on my way home on Sunday night, it was an enjoyable weekend, and one I'll definitely do again!

Bike Run To Inch Abbey (A 'New' Me?)

Friday (13th July) was one of the few days where the sun shone consistently for the whole day. So I decided to take the bike out for a spin - given that I don't know when I'll next be able to do it! You hear all sorts of things about the jet stream being too low etc, and therefore we have rain, rain and more rain! The run on the back roads to Downpatrick from Comber was great. The roads were agreeably quiet, and the perfect mix of straights, straights with undulations, long sweeping corners and tight twisty stuff. All of which the bike handled well. My end destination was Inch Abbey on the outskirts of Downpatrick. I can remember coming to it as a student on field trips, and is one of the most superb examples of Gothic medieval architecture in Ireland. But more than that, the setting is spectacular, situated on the slope of a drumlin overlooking a lake and the cathedral on top of the hill in Downpatrick.

Ruins of Inch Abbey

I always found the setting lends itself to quiet reflection, and (alas) again I find that I have much to reflect upon. The games people play always affect others, I think this is something people (myself included) sometimes fail to remember. For every action there is, most definitely, a reaction and f**king with someone (emotionally or mentally) is a recipe for disaster! I have always tried to suppress my frustrations and negative emotions. But I can no longer do that, as it simply isn't healthy. So I find that these things now bubble under the surface. Although in plain terms, I think I am just no longer prepared to take any sh*t from anyone and I don't see that as a bad thing! I am grateful to be in employment, don't get me wrong, but my tendency to "hide" in jobs, simply grateful for the cheque at the end of the month are over. I see people in higher positions who just shouldn't be there, and I know I would be better than them....so my tenure will soon be at an end. Something that when I decided upon, was a great weight off my shoulders. Also personally, I am no longer prepared to be the proverbial doormat. I think previously I was a "don't rock the boat" kinda person, whereas now I am prepared to capsize the f**ker if it needs to be done!  I think that recent reflection has led me to make positive changes to me (as a person) and also my lifestyle. But a confidence that had been missing for a while has returned and I know my own self-worth. Even if others don't. I find myself looking at myself with a steely glare and a sly grin - I know that now I will get what I want.

 I found myself wondering if other people had sat in the same spot I was sitting at the abbey, either recently or centuries ago, working through the same, or similar, problems. I guess one of the things I learned recently from my Dad is that you think your problems are unique, but they aren't! Someone, somewhere has been through it before and got the t-shirt long before you! If all the world's troubles were in a barrel....you'd soon reach back in for your own! 

An weekend away on the bikes is also planned for the end of the month...watch this space....but at the minute a destination of Cork or Limerick is on the cards. I favor Kinsale, mainly because I have fond memories of carrying out my Masters fieldwork down there, and the place is stunning. Although it is a bit touristy for my tastes overall. I still dream of winning the lottery (who doesn't) and being able to ride into the sunset flipping a middle digit to all those who didn't treat me the way they should have done...but I know that's the definition of a pipe-dream. I would like to think if I won the lottery, I'd be far more gracious than that!

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!!