I decamped early eager to escape the blissful family holiday memories being laid down all around me and my own missing recollections. My departure would have been more impressive had I secured the top of the top box before bouncing across the top field, no harm done and nothing discarded, as far as I could tell.
Westward bound I followed my nose to Arthurstown where it turned out there was a ferry. Kelly, a cabinetmaker from Newfoundland, was waiting there with his BMW so I made his acquaintance. I found out that owning an Irish registered bike was a thing for many international bikers wanting to ride Europe on their holidays. He was on his way back from Spain and recommended the camping at his motorcycle storage place, Motofeirme.
We crossed together then parted, riding alone is a pleasure not to be denied a fellow. Sole attention on the solo experience, careless and care free not irresponsible but not responsible. I pottered on down to Dunmore East where the holiday weekend was in full swing, I didn’t stop for long. Meandering done I headed towards Cork, stopping for breakfast at an old workhouse then later at a ‘Diner’ where I discovered the source of my oily boot. Once again the nut holding the spanner had underperformed, distracted by the issue with my choke lever, I’d omitted to tighten the rocker cover down, doh!
Cork was chaotic, a marathon had just completed and the Garda directed me through miles of traffic cones until I tired and stopped to look up the location of Motofierme. The internet told me that the camping was restricted so I phoned ahead and spoke with Martin who’d met Kelly earlier on the road and gave me permission to land. I hovered around getting lost, stopping at one point to check my phone and then the bike would not start. My heart sank but adrenaline cut through the despair and I ran through all the reasons why clicking the starter button gave no click from the starter solenoid. Kill switch in, nope, loose connection, nope, ignition off, nope, irrationally I turned the lights off and, yup, she started!
There was a warm welcome at the campsite, Kelly was here and Thomas from Germany, then Kevin and Maree from Western Australia. Adventurers all with more stories to tell and miles under their belts than I could do justice to here. Disturbingly both Thomas and Kelly had experienced head on collisions in the surrounding roads. Kelly’s a while ago but persisting in memory and a sizeable skin graft where an exhaust pipe burned its own reminder. Thomas, on an Ural sidecar unit, just the last week and now awaiting parts to be sent across Europe, more on his site here https://sidecaronworldtrip.eu/
Kevin, a man who knows what it means to work hard on machines, and Maree, a nurse for the elderly on a 3 month sabbatical, were held up here awaiting the untangling of their motorcycle insurance necessary for re-registering their bike. From the ‘see a job and do it’ generation that I admire they had turned their hands to upgrading the site, helping Martin our host. Kelly and I rode down to the supermarket for food and beer and we all drank and talked and listened around the fire pit until we were done.
Le Mans man 