Other Matters:The Wind

If I ever replace my Terry I want a Bianchi; but it has to be celeste green. Sunday's ride to Whistling Jack's took place in howling winds, but the ride back was fast!

From some notes about a trip to Ireland in summer 2004:

Wind

Much experience was gained with the wind for which Western Ireland is famous. Perhaps the quintessential bike touring day was the ride from Cong, County Mayo to Rossaveal, County Galway, where we were to catch the ferry to Inishmaan Island. After riding 40 miles through the bleakest, loneliest bog country of the tour against very fierce gusts, Carla and Denise were near tears. They realized they had missed the turn-off for the ferry. They had to backtrack 7 kilometers. The last ferry of the day would be taking off in half an hour! We made the ferry, which left the dock in a heavy swell. Our bikes had been lashed to a rail outside, and quickly got drenched by the Atlantic. Pretty soon the waves were crashing over the boat as we rolled through crests and troughs, the kind that bring your stomach to your throat. Indeed, stomach contents were flowing into barf bags all around us. When we reached the island and disembarked in the rain, our B&B host met us at the dock in his jeep and asked to take our 'heavy baggage.' We followed him on our bikes to our lodgings. Later, from the comfort of our cozy house, Carla wrote in her journal, "This was the worst ride of my life."