A place to rest where one can be

Tuesday, 13th of September. Today is the first day where I feel generally okay again. I woke up early, awake, also it was sunny outside(!). The last days I felt terrible, was just down, ate all the time, felt exhausted, tired, flabby. Originally I had planed to stay for one night at Melanie's place but she offered me to stay as long as I want, so I'm still here, waiting for the storm to go away. And indeed, since this day it seems to become better. Thursday I will go on up to Castlebar, visiting my next host John, to whom I had contact from time to time as he was one of the people who said me welcome from the random request I made in Margate. So I'm looking forward to meet him finally. I also hope to see my towel again, that Allan has hopefully send early enough to his adress…

I think I wasn't a good couchsurfer the last days – one who is an enrichment for the others. I just felt down, depressed, bushed, cried a lot for no reason when I was alone. I was quiet, felt to be awkward. Just a boring person who's vegging out – most of the time in front of the computer. But this doesn't seem to bother Melanie. Her two boys are also just lovely – smart and sprightly. Melanie is doing a real good job as a mother. We had some very good talks, I took along what I could from her life story and once again about the question how to be happy without fulfilling society's requirements (and I still don't understand why this is rooted so deep inside of me…). I hope I could give a little bit back when teaching her some easy but impressive tricks on the guitar. And I hope she recognized how good all this did to me. Many thanks and much love. I'm still learning.

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.

Inter alia the Cliffs of Moher

Thursday, 8th of September. When I started in Limerick it was in between cloudy and clear – and it would go on like this for quite a while. I followed the route Dave had sketched for me yesterday, and after I had left Limerick the road was really lovely, such small asphaltic paths, no traffic, all the green… Once I passed a track, a tiny level crossing, but a man worked there who opened the barriers manually by moving them until they were parallel to the path and now bared the track.

Cycling wasn't so easy in the beginning, I felt tired. Last night I felt bad – for the first time since I'm in Ireland – full of self-doubt, doubt in general, lacking confidence, somehow constrained, somehow at the wrong place in this life. It took me some time to fall asleep. For the last two weeks I was just there, in present, feeling alive, full of energy, domiciled in myself with no need for other securities. But last night and still this morning I felt so homesick, so lost. I don't want to have to fulfill societies requirements. – I have no idea why I feel so bound sometimes, although I should know I'm not. But go on cycling felt good, feels good in general, it just helps to use the body, to move on, to make things change.

From time to time there was some misty rain and also not so misty rain but mostly for just some minutes. Just nice cycling. Once I saw a car lying upside down next to the street, maybe one or two metres lower, and it was weird to see this. I had to stop to make sure that it was just the car lying there and no accident with maybe wounded people. Other cars passed without noticing what could have been a sign there's no danger but also that all these people are ignorant, but I would have felt bad just ignoring, as I know it's so easy to close the eyes especially if all the others do so. Certainly whatever has happened was time ago. But I was also glad I didn't act gutless.

In Ennis I couldn't find the junction up to Miltown Malbay via R 474, so I ended up at N 85, also okay and nice, interesting landscape and only on first sight to much traffic. From Inagh I switched to the R 460, what was just great. Rough landscape, fir forests, not so hilly, although it was high – but wide! The road passes on the southernside of the Slievecallan mountain. It felt really wild, much nature, marginal houses – and somewhere in this wasteland placed next to this street there was a little church and a school and nothing else. Maybe this school was build at this place as a compromise to all the pupils, the midpoint of all the places where they come from…

While I was cycling this area actually the sun came out – it needs so less to make me happy. In Miltown Malbay, a cute little village, I followed the signs to the public library to use a free Internet access, but nobody had answered my couch request for this night. I went on cycling the N 67 close to the coast. In Lahinch I passed a golf course – once again. I didn't count how much golf courses I have seen – especially in England and Ireland, they seem to be extremely popular. The Irish ones are very open to visitors. Doing golf isn't something very exclusiveness, no sport only for the rich, but something everyone can try out just for fun – so it looks a little bit like middle class miniature golf players playing adults golf… But also this place seemed to be much more a natural steeplechase course than a professional site.

It went late but now I came closer to the Cliffs of Moher. I didn't follow the straight route along the R 478 but cycled some very local roads which offered me the non touristic side of this Moher area. I did some exhausting cycling by following the little paths which connect all the houses in this area and also had some nice talks with some locals, who haven't seen someone like me so often before. It was fun. Then I reached the cliffs or more precisely the traffic guiding system and the parking area, where all the tourists usually arrive with cars and buses. The Cliffs of Moher are definitely the most touristic place in Ireland. It was told to me one have to pay 6 € to see them, but I have no idea how this usually works. At the time I arrived there weren't much people there, so I just went on cycling as long as possible. The Cliffs of Moher Visitor Experience closed anyway and I wasn't that interested in visiting as I try to avoid touristic stuff at all. Because of this tourism thing I also wasn't that impressed of the cliffs. Yes, it's high, yes, it's nice, yes, one should see it, but it wasn't the or even a climax of my tour. The most nice thing is to enter the "forbidden" area and look down the precipice – that's really high. What made me laugh (although it's surely not funny) were the signs where the Samaritans are asking if someone needs to talk, because it was first seeing the sign and then realizing why they are standing there – the usual tourists have other reasons to visit the Cliffs of Moher, what makes a funny contrast… At the cliffs I once again met Dean who showed his new couchsurfer around.

This day I ended up in a fantastic hostel ten kilometres behind the cliffs after cycling around 105 kilometres. The Aille River Hostel is a 300-year-old cottage lovingly renovated. And one can feel so much warmth and trust, all people there are so open hearted and open minded and interested, and Carl is the soul of it's all. If you are ever in this area, come to this hostel and feel at home!