A new landscape – but this can't help

Saturday, 10th of September. I left Galway with the feeling of escaping. I couldn't open my heart and my soul to the maybe or probably existing nice side of this town. To me it's just a symbol how fragile my world is. I first had to regenerate. But cycling the R 336 along the coast wasn't much better, it felt boring and soulless. One interesting thing was this so called craft village, very commercial and touristic but if it works, fair enough.

Once again I felt weary and couldn't really find into the cycling. But my edging of light was Melanie, my next host, who had answered so fast and nice to my request I sent from Aille River Hostel, that I knew this would be a warm and friendly place. When I left the straight way to west the landscape began to change, what was good. It also was very windy. This morning I had said to myself: Wind is okay but please no rain again, and so it came. I had sunny times, clouds and some more or less misty rain but nothing what sob you. But this day I had to learn, that it's much more easier to resist the rain than the wind if you are in it all the time.

When coming to Derryrush I decided not to cycle along the coast of the peninsula but to use a small road, because although it would be enough kilometres this day, I didn't trust the coast in this area and the wind had started to change into storm. This asphaltic path I now cycled was just like lost in the wide and power of nature. Those things frightened me, it's this Into the wild feeling. It's just too big, too powerful. It was an intense experience. In this area called Connemara Ireland has lost all it's green and remembered me much more of a mixture of Kansas (or what I think Kansas would be or once was or still is in The Wizard of Oz) and the German Lüneburg Heath than Ireland.

This storm was so intense! The only good thing or in one way good thing was that it changed constantly his direction, so not really a bad problem with adverse winds, but all this power all the time! Crosswind where one could and had to lean against. For a short time sometimes following wind, but the main experience was just all this power, and it was so loud, too, because the wind made lots sound with my rain coat. It's exhausting in a weird way, because the struggle isn't so much in the muscles when it makes no difference if you stay or move. But it's just hard to exist.

The Connemara ground is basically turf. Many of the residents continue to cut turf for use in heating their homes during the long winter months. So you can see lots of little ditches which were formed by the cutting. You see also many places were the turf is placed to dry. And surely you have the turf smell all around you. As I said, rather interesting, but this day I could only know but not feel this. To me everything became apathetically this day.

After 80 kilometres I start to feel bad and exhausted, I had enough sweety and fruity eating with me, but my body wanted something salty and savoury. I wasn't in an area with much population, yes, some houses combined to a village, but no shops or restaurants, and I was also looking forward to get some warm and tasty meal at Melanie's place. So I decided to go on – carefully but straight. Once again I didn't cycle along the coast but did the direct route from Cushatrower up to Ballinaboy and there it really wore me down. It's not that your muscles hurt or you don't have any power in them, it's just that it want work anymore.

The whole situation pissed me off. When I was at this end I gave up and rested, helped myself with some dates. You can't change circumstances. I wasn't up for cycling anymore, not now not the next days, never – I was just thinking about quitting the tour and come back home. Having a home is such a good memory. Curiously I wouldn't have taken a lift if one of the cars who rarely passed me would have offered. I knew I would be able to do it on my own, so it wasn't about power. But I was frustrated, so down, so much ways away from any meaning. So also in quitting there was no hope.

Cycling the R 341 next to the Mannin Bay there the storm topped his intensity, now there was so much wind one could have probably stand within it on the bike. At this time I once again counted the half kilometres – this was also the way I did the last five kilometres up to Ballinaboy. After 100 kilometres I finally arrived at Melanie's place, where it was lovely and warm, but it wasn't much verve left inside of me. I was glad not to be outside anymore, but that it was all. I didn't feel to be an interesting valuable person. No faith anymore. Melanie however was lovely. Such a warm welcome, just like coming to a place where you don't have to think about your acting and surely the right place for me. The most comfortable place for being so down.