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I thought I saw you at our races @ Pahrump, NV Spring Mountain. Was that you? I thought "Naahh, he's in Europe..."
 
I thought I saw you at our races @ Pahrump, NV Spring Mountain. Was that you? I thought "Naahh, he's in Europe..."

That was me!

Bike is in Ireland. I'll be flying back soon to continue the trip.
 
So every country has had its little idiosyncrasies and, compared with the US, some of those idiosyncrasies are vestiges of days past. But Ireland, well...most of you won't believe me....Ireland does not have a postal code system. Rural addresses are specified by the county, nearest post town, and the townlan. They have cute names for their properties (but not always), and-- as you can imagine--it sure is hard to find ..... Certain cities, like Dublin, do use addresses, but I wasn't staying in Dublin.

After riding to Galway from N. Ireland, I absolutely could not find where the hell I was staying for the night. (Did I mention most streets don't have names, either?) A huge storm was rolling in and it was hard enough to find a garage hours prior, but without any way to contact my 'hosts' and with no one I spoke to knowing where the hell "Taoibh Coille" was, I rode around looking for a hotel.

Good thing I found one!:



And good thing the super ....... nice dude at the Hotel let me keep my bike in some sort of bomb-proof beverage storage area (I seem to recall puddles of Guinness on the floor, but that must be my imagination playing tricks), otherwise it would have no doubt not stayed on its sidestand all night.

Next day rode out to the coast where I'd be staying for a couple weeks.



The 'address' here was a bit easier to get to and went something like this:
Proceed East along the paved road from the Church towards the community center. Make a right at the first fork, then a left approximately 500 meters after the start of the stone wall. Continue over the rise in the road and follow the dirt driveway just prior to the coastal route sign.

I figured, ok, these guys must have SOME system of figuring out where things are. And they do. More about that later.

(Oh as of Spring of this year Ireland has begun to implement postal codes....)
 
Dennis just read the Scambler report you lucky sod! You deserved that press bike, keep entertaining us and shout up when you back in the UK
Oh belated birthday wishes
 
Absolutely loved the place I was staying. For years I'd always imagined staying for a couple weeks in a small cabin on the stormy Irish coast. Ok, maybe I imagined a cliff and sheep, but hey, this was pretty damn close.



I was also close to a Tesco Supermarket, and took advantage of a fully-sorted grocery store:


(Spicy Turmeric Soup)

Days turned into nights, nights into days.



Still wasn't used to eating 3 times a day, but I did my best to try and put back on the weight I'd lost over the prior months:


(Balsamic Glazed Chicken)

Oh yes....in addition to the wonderfully dreary sights and sounds of bad weather, I shared the coastline with a castle.





Lovely house I stayed at, no?





I kid, I kid.
 
Riding was, hmmm...shall we say, not dry and not warm.





But it's definitely beautiful. Lots of tranquil, one-lane roads (often covered in wet leaves and mud) that pretty much lead nowhere, which is perfect by me.

Went into town and got meat pies for a couple days' worth of food.











After staying out at the end of nowhere, I really did not appreciate being back in a 'city'. It was strangely claustrophobic. I didn't want to see people, didn't want to see busses, and didn't want to be seen.

But damn those pies were delicious.
 
Here's what the general vicinity (and what much of this part of Ireland) looked like:



Backyard:






Enjoying the harbor (and a ride) at night:







Big thanks again to those who bought me a Guinness!



Fiery Sunset:



And the Oranmore Castle:

 
It was strange, those first days in Ireland. I seriously did not want to go anywhere. There I am, unchained, and I just didn't want to move. Aside from all the wonderful things you can do and see on a motorbike, you're bound to experience fatigue sooner or later. Since Mid 2012 I've been on the run, bouncing from one place, ricocheting off another. My response to boredom (or fatigue) has always been to move, to go, to explore, to find something new. But it all caught up to me in Oranmore. I needed retreat. A short walk or staring out the window was about as much interest I had in the outside world. At times I thought: this is what mental illness feels like. The world was most definitely not a dry cinder, but that's exactly what it felt like to me.

I know there are a few of you thinking, "how the hell can you possibly be bored or depressed when you're 'living the dream'?" Fair point, but fails to take into account that winning the lottery doesn't cure hemorrhoids. By that I mean: it's all too easy to exaggerate only the good (or bad) of someone else's life. Not all problems are solved with money and being able to travel and see the world isn't a situational panacea that prevents all maladies or heals all wounds. Never let a shadow be cast over your life by imagining someone else doing or having things you do not, because, guaranteed, they still endure a lot of the same problems everyone else does--and may even have a couple new ones even they didn't even expect.



As I wandered around Oranmore and Galway on foot, I realized, too, that a simple walk around a familiar or unfamiliar neighborhood (or just staring out the window at sailboats on the sea) can be as much of an expedition as riding a thousand miles. Where (and what) you direct your attention at is more important than where your body is physically located.

















 
My response to boredom (or fatigue) has always been to move, to go, to explore, to find something new.

A common affliction! Props to Lizzie Grant... ;)

"I hear the birds on the summer breeze,
I drive fast, I am alone in midnight
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,
But I, I've got a war in my mind
So, I just ride, just ride"
 
Antihero:
Thanks for all those nice pix of you being in different places and letting us see that part of the world you are seeing. Just be safe and we await more pix's and your words of your adventures. Happy Travels.....:)
 
Rained a lot those first days in Ireland. Rained a lot the second, third, fourth sets of days, too.











Sometimes I'd go out for rides, sometimes I'd stay inside until I ran out of food.





Sometimes I'd go for a late night ride (.... it was cold!) and then stay up all night painting to "Sing" by Slowdive on repeat.







I'd just bounced restlessly for thousands of miles across Europe and now was content to explore a 10 mile radius, finding just as much beauty, novelty, amusement in that tiny corner of the world as in days of riding.











 
Dennis now you know why it's called the Emerald Isle!
When Michael first passed his test I took him on a little adventure to Ireland. It rained none stop but it was beautiful, sometimes grey skies and dramatic weather produce amazing colourful scenery
 

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