Agnew's Hill

The Ulster Way markers were the only indication that I was travelling on any sort of path. Agnew’s hill was a mire and when I rode I had to pick my way carefully, but with some riding and some pushing, I made it to the top, picking up the discarded crisp bags and malteser boxes from the path as I went.

Was pleased to see a few hares lolloping about near the top of the hill. Northern Ireland doesn’t have much in the way of indigenous wildlife so I always like to see what’s around. Actually the hares I saw were probably European rather than Irish since they were huge big things, nearly two feet tall to the tops of their ears.

Just over the top of Agnew’s hill I was about to start enjoying myself when I noticed the back tyre was soft. Rather than try and swap the tube out now I thought I’d pump it up and keep going. Good job I remembered to put the pump into the bag before I left!

Riding down Agnew’s hill was great fun; the north side wasn’t as boggy as the South, so I got riding the whole way down, with some steep and technical sections too. I lifted the bike over the stile at the bottom and rode a couple of hundred metres along the road to the next off-road section. This was much flatter, single-track riding across a couple of fields. The path was well marked by posts, and I could follow the track on the ground too, but it wasn’t eroded with bootprints like many of the paths in the Mournes are. Some great views down the valley towards Larne, and I was curious about the apparently man-made lake, surrounded by trees, sitting out over the hill. Sheep in abundance, and I picked up loads more litter from the path. Why would people drop their rubbish in a place like that? The “you’re keeping somebody in a job” excuse doesn’t work, and it’s not like it was biodegradable rubbish either. I don’t understand it.

Over the next road, I was looking forward to the Sallagh Hills, but the back tyre was soft again and there was a wall to give me shelter from the breeze, so I swapped out the tube, remembering to feel the inside of the tyre and make sure there were no spiky things lurking in there. The side wall of the tyre was in terrible shape. No wonder something got through it. I also had a feel around the old tube on the off-chance that, even though it was a slow puncture, I might find the leak. I got the shock of my life when I felt a four inch gash in the tube! Most of it only went part of the way through the tube, but obviously somewhere along that gash there was a tiny hole. I used two of my biggest patches and sealed it up. Trying to pump up the new tube, it refused to go up. I took it out again, and discovered a neat hole. Obviously it’d got punctured by something in my bag. Great. I patched that up and put it back in.

Riding on, the back tyre felt really unstable. It was in bad enough shape to start with, but taking it on and off the wheel so many times had made it even worse. Looking at the map I could see that the next section, round the Sallagh braes was going to need some skill and reliable hardware. Since I was on my own with no backup I decided to err on the side of caution, switched the phone to Nokia Maps and asked it to direct me to the nearest train station.

my first ever solo bivi

I laid the bike down and chose a rocky outcrop to shelter me from the wind with flat grass at the base and a great view in almost every direction. I pitched the tarp using the bike’s handlebars and the rocks to get a bit of height, and rolled out the sleeping bag, sleeping mat and bivi bag in beneath.

I’d brought Iceland pasta salad to heat up for my supper, but it wasn’t that long since my dinner so I had half a bottle of Gatorade and a Frusli bar. I was glad to strip off my soaked cycling socks and replace them with the thick dry walking socks I’d brought – the only change of clothes I had with me.

Lying out there alone on the exposed hillside with the unfamiliar night sounds all around, I was a little unnerved. The flying sheep circling overhead bleating repeatedly as it came closer and closer to my camp was particularly unsettling (OK, so it probably wasn’t a sheep, but it really did sound like one) But it was a clear, still night, no rain, it wasn’t cold or windy in the shelter of the rock, and because I was on the hillside there were no midges. It was a beautiful night. With no light pollution for miles around it was bright until I fell asleep at 1130, and the first time I woke, at half past five, it was broad daylight. I thought I’d overslept.

I dozed until 7 o’clock when I stretched an arm out of my sleeping bag and set my stove onto the flat rock beside my head to boil the water for my porridge. The tarp was soaked with dew, so when I’d wakened enough I pegged it out in the early morning sunshine to dry. As the last of the mist cleared I packed up the rest of my kit between mouthfuls of porridge, and by 7:30 I was on my way again.

Ballyboley

At eight o’clock on Friday evening my very understanding wife bundled a couple of the wains into the car and drove me to Ballynure with all my stuff. I saddled up and headed up the hill towards Ballyboley. I quickly caught up with a lady who was riding up the road ahead of me.

We got chatting, and she’s usually a runner but has started cycling while she recovers from an injury. As we passed the
pipe band all standing out in the middle of the road practising, I dragged it out of her that she’s run the London marathon twice, the Dublin marathon twice, and this year was the second time she’d run the Belfast marathon. Some people do the craziest things. I ran a leg of the Belfast marathon this year and I think I’ll stick to riding the bike up trackless heather-covered mountains in future.

After we parted I kept on zig-zagging up the hill, the views becoming more and more spectacular as I gained height. Past Ballyboley orange hall where one of the members was painting the door bright red, on past the school and turned off into the forest.
The trees in Ballyboley have been infected with the destructive fungal infection Phytophthora ramorum,
So the place is a mess. I took two wrong paths before I got the right one, because the Forest Service have been adding new paths to access the trees that need felled. They’ve also laid stones on the path to minimize the damage by the increase in heavy machinery, and the loose stones are more difficult to ride on than the usual forest paths.

Once I got away from the destruction near the entrance, Ballyboley is a pleasant wee forest and I enjoyed my ride through it. I didn’t venture off the path because I was just passing through, and also because of the diseased larches. Even the main path had some challenging steep climbs though, even if they weren’t overly technical.

At the other end I was expecting to see more forest paths through the trees across the road, but the path through there is something totally different. The ‘path is marked by only an occasional footprint visible in the dirt through the long grass. Then I lifted the bike up a bank and the Way led up a fire break through the trees. No risk of fire today, as the tyres sank three inches into the sodden earth. The going was tough and I pushed most of the way through, only riding when the path was dry enough. My feet were squelching through the bog as I plodded forwards, the gps on my phone reading just under 2mph. I was going to have to pick up the time somewhere else to make the 10mph average I was hoping for.

The forest suddenly ended and I lifted the bike over a high stile, and was met with the barren bogland that’s such a feature of the Antrim Hills. The floor was deep, thick sphagnum moss, thriving on the moisture-rich peat beneath. Memories washed over me because when I was a child my family spent many summers turning, stacking, drying and bagging peat very near here to keep the house warm through the winter. Although I probably complained bitterly at the time, I have good memories of those summers.

Picking my way along the slightly drier ridges, a path crossed my route. On the map it doubled back and re-crossed the Way a few hundred yards further on. The calculation of ‘extra distance’ versus ‘easily rideable’ was an easy one and I took the path. It was coming up to 9pm so I was looking for somewhere sheltered to bed down for the night, and with the wind blowing down the exposed valley, Shane’s Hill was not ideal.

Turning back off the ‘road’ which was no more than a double track path, the cattle watched my progress inquisitively. I didn’t take much notice of them, until one heifer moved aside and behind her stood a young bull! A herd of cattle can be a dangerous thing if they’re startled and you get in their way, but a single bull, if he takes a dislike to you, raises the danger to a whole different level. I shifted my direction slightly so I was walking in a straight line, my path moving away from the group, trying to look big and strong, and gentle and non-threatening all at once. He never took his eyes off me until, with relief, I climbed over the next fence and up towards the rocky ridges of Hightown.

data mining

My regular partner-in-cycling is trying to poke, prod and persuade me into taking on the Ulster Way next year.

It’s all my fault. I made the mistake of sending him a link to the Ulster Way website.

The Ulster Way is a 1000km journey over (and through) every imaginable surface.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m up for the challenge, but we’re having a disagreement over how long it’ll take.

Martin lives in England, so we can’t easily split it up over a wheen of sessions, and he can’t really afford to take more than a week off work at a time.

He’s up for doing the whole thing in seven days, I’m thinking ten. 7 days would be 90 miles a day, a reasonable distance if you can maintain a pace of somewhere around 10mph. The big question in my mind is - would 10mph be a realistic average?

When Tango and Cash, did it in 6 days, on singlespeeds, they were riding 13 and 14 hour days. I love adventure riding; taking on big distances over terrain that most people never see. But I don’t just do it so that I can look back and say ‘I did it’. I like to enjoy the journey while it’s happening, and several consecutive 13 hour days in the saddle does not make for an enjoyable journey.

We could argue till the cows come home, but to make a decision, we need some data for our calculations.

Physio's orders!

At the Physio today I finally got started on weights and I don't have to stop when I feel pain.

I've never been so pleased to hear that I'm allowed to hurt myself.

Ciara said "I'll be seeing you again in three weeks. Between now and then I expect you to have done a day's mountain biking"

Ah well, I suppose I'll have to then, for medical reasons!

Newferry - Portglenone

Yesterday the weather was horrendous: cold, wet and windy. There were power cuts and trees blown down all over the province. Today the weather forecast said it was to be better, but not much.

We decided to begin at Newferry and paddle upstream into Lough Beg, knowing that it'd be choppy with the wind. When it got

too difficult we could turn at any time and paddle downstream towards Portglenone. The journey along the river would

be the main part of the morning, but if we got to explore Lough Beg it'd be a bonus.

Evan picked me up just after 9am and we went back to his to load the canoe onto his roof rack. From there we drove

to Newferry and got dressed. Waterproof trousers, wellie boots, raincoat, buoyancy aid, and a floppy hat were the uniform of the day.

We carried the boat to the slipway instead of launching from the canoe step. There were some points of interest along the waterline of that slipway. We successfully identified a dead dog and floating fish, besides the usual green slime and discarded takeaway boxes.

Once in the water we paddled upstream onto the lough. Me providing the power at the front, Evan steering from behind. It's a while since I had a decent trip in an open canoe, but I quickly settled into my rhythm as we headed across to the far bank and made our way towards the

lough. I must have been pulling well enough, because my strokes were driving us towards the bank, and Evan had to ask me to stop a few times so he could straighten up.

When the shelter provided by the long grass and high bank subsided, the full force of the wind built up and up. We could see whitecaps across the lough, and the waves were getting pretty lively as we paddled towards the island at mullaghardry. I was sure we were still making good headway though, until I looked at the bank beside me and realised we hadn't moved at all for a full minute! Time to push a bit harder. Evan told me 'Short, powerful Strokes' and I know that's the right thing to do, but after a couple of minutes of constantly planting the paddle and hauling the boat towards it I have to admit I got slower and slower. and slower.

We did eventually make it into the lee of the island, had a quick look around and opted to take the simple decision, turned round and headed downriver.

It's a lot easier paddling

with the wind behind you, let me tell you. I wasn't steering though and I think Evan would have preferred it if I'd stopped pretending to be a sail and seeing if I could tack and jibe!

Back on the more sheltered river we had a fun, but generally uneventful journey down to Portglenone. We stopped a few times to free fishing tackle and old ropes from the trees, watched the herons and kingfishers and meandered down the river, taking turns to steer so we could practice our 'J', Indian and Canadian strokes in the stern, and sweep strokes and bow rudders at the front.

When we hauled up at the slipway there were workmen refurbishing it all. It was a building site with cranes and diggers, concrete blocks and cables lying everywhere. We were just contemplating carrying the canoe out to the road when Pearl's Renault came bumping over the debris, swerving to avoid heavy machinery. As nervous builders dived for cover she skidded to a halt beside us. Evan leaped into the passenger seat and they roared off to retrieve his car with the roof bars leaving me to wait with the boat and the shell shocked builders.

trying out the boat

For his coaching course, Evan needs to get as much practice as possible so he's always a willing accomplice on a day trip, We're heading out tomorrow. I took Ricky up on his offer and borrowed his canoe. He even offered to pick us up at the end of the journey, but he won't be available until 4pm. Evan only has a half day off work, so his mum volunteered to do the shuttling instead.

Ricky was great, checking we know what we're doing, volunteering buoyancy aids, equipment, advice and experience. He keeps a first aid kit clipped to one of the painters, there's enough flotation lashed into the boat to raise the titanic, spare buoyancy aids tucked in bow and stern, and last thing before I drove off he tossed a throw bag into the back seat of my car. We won't take it because we both have our own, but Ricky didn't know that. "Keep safe" he said again and again. He knows I've done the coaching course, but he's only ever seen me paddle at the family day on the six mile water, so he has every right to be concerned. He's still willing to loan us his canoe though, and is falling over himself to be helpful.

I dropped the boat round with Evan and we discussed tomorrow's trip until late into the night.

back on the bike - proper

Today's X-ray shows a change in the bone. it's still broken, but there's more fibres connecting the two sides. i'm allowed to ride the mountain bike, but nothing crazy. I never do anything crazy so I should be OK there.

Mucky

Robert from work lives in Portmuck. He used to be a commercial fisherman and he's full of stories of the sea, and of his many other exploits. We went paddling together last year in the USA on the river Kankakee, and since he's got a couple of sit-on-tops we always planned to get a paddle together a bit closer to home. After work tonight, we finally got it together.

I got the train to Larne where Evan, who did the coaching course with me and who's now doing the level two course, picked me up and we drove to Robert's house. When Robert finished work, he came home on his scooter and we met up with his girlfriend Maggie, carted the sit-on-tops down to the harbour and launched onto the glassy water of the Irish Sea. A leisurely paddle around Muck Island followed by a 'skills session' from Evan and a barbecue on the beach. perfect.

Eye Feel Good Route Blog

Here's the blog of the EyeFeelgood charity paddle from Antrim to Castlerock

Kit List

I came across this useful list of kit on the EyeFeelGood blog. They're organising a canoe trip next week from Antrim to Castlerock, the same journey as us, but probably a little bit further because we'll not be starting from Antrim... or will we?
It's way too late for me to get involved in their paddle this year, but it'll be interesting to see how they get on.

Now I can paddle

Ciara, my physio, phoned to say she's talked to Mr. Swain and i'm allowed to paddle gently on flat water. Just as well, because I already have, and I'm not very good at telling lies.

Paddling gently

Had a great afternoon paddling up and down the mouth of the sixmilewater in kayaks and canoes courtesy of MobileTeamAdventure. The two oldest kids were total naturals. we really have to get out as a family sometime.
Best of all, Mobile Team Adventure were assisted by Ricky Fee from EyeFeelGood. Ricky knows my wife Alex because she runs the local parent and toddler group in our church, and she's also been to a couple of Eye Feel Good fundraising events. He made it very clear that any time I want to borrow a canoe, I just have to ask.

I'd been starting to worry where we'd get hold of a boat for the trip. That's that problem solved.

In case you've never heard of Eye Feel Good, they're a charity which organises events to raise money to help people with cancer. Many of the events are outdoor activities.

obstacles

I've mentioned the surgery on my wrist more than once. I thought that by now it'd be practically healed and I'd be back to doing all the things I love doing. Well after one week in a backslab plaster, and four weeks in a cast, then another five weeks taking it easy, this is what my latest x-ray looks like.

It's an impressive x-ray, but there's still a gap between the two parts of the bone, and that's not good. "Non-Union", they call it and it's one of the risks of getting your bones surgically broken.

The plate is holding it in place so I'm allowed to do some cycling, though nothing too extreme, but my physio said I'm not allowed to paddle for a while yet.

Adventureland 2011

Northern Ireland Adventureland 2011. (Yep, that's one of the CAAN websites) The link probably won't work forever, but the idea is that you can try pretty much any outdoor activity in Northern Ireland for £10 this weekend. I think it's a great idea, the only problem is that it seems to be only people like me who're already into outdoor things that have heard about it. I've been telling everybody, and booked the family to go paddling on the sixmilewater on Saturday.