Stage ten: Sligo to Gortahork…Brute Force And Ignorance!

Hold on- there’s no way it’s 0601hrs already…I demand a recount or at least another couple of hours! No dice, so it’s up and hope that the early staff don’t mind me helping myself to their breakfast stores. In the event, they were very helpful…even got a coffee. It’s the little things, sometimes innit?

The forecast was not wrong. More’s the pity, hah-hah!

Dunno why Peter Wyngarde is revered here particularly, but there you are.

That’s a still from ‘Ghost’, right?

At least it wasn’t raining anymore. Small wins ahoy!

I’ll not give you a load of bs and say it was fun for the first 25 miles or so: you’re not exactly pulling up trees progress-wise, and you know that time slips away faster than you realise. There’s that and also the fact that it’s sorta the rush hour around here, so folk aren’t as inclined to look-out for you as they otherwise might. Give us a shoulder, please! Lo- that’s what happened…eventually.

Was a big deal to stop in Ballyshannon to say hello to the only Gallagher that matters.

Looks a terrific town: wanna return for their festival!

No. Not one clue. Is it prog?

Leaving town…gotta keep plodding.

Hadn’t noticed, hah-hah!

In all honesty, the winds were as advertised but it could’ve been a sight worse. I mean, when I’m going up any hills I’m so slow anyway…what’s the difference? The sun even broke through later and it makes everything a little better…or at least not quite as bad, hah-hah!

My kind of Sat Nav.

I stopped briefly at some small town about 60 miles in: a bloke parked his car and said hello, and had I come far? I said Sligo, but wasn’t too sure if it was 35 or 40 miles left: his reply was that I was a lot nearer Gortahork than Sligo! Fair point, well made. Everyday brings some interaction with either locals or fellow tourists.

Yesterday I was stuffing my face with a tuna sandwich about 10am when a local old boy asked where I was going: Sligo. He nodded and asked if I’d be stopping for lunch and a drink at some completely random pub on the way? No…no Sir, I would not. Fair enough he goes and wishes me luck! Or the random friendly beep from a SUV today, or the shouts of ‘Allez, allez’ from a couple of French tourists. They *know* about cycling, hah-hah!

I had forgotten to mention that when I was up at checkpoint number two (Mizen Head, last Tuesday), an Aussie couple stopped me and asked what I was all about: they had passed me on the road and remembered the CL colours. Nice one! It’s the little things…

Entirely satisfactory.

Hah-hah/a huh-huh!

Mount Errigal looking all that.

As advertised, today’s stage was shy of a century by five miles: zero guilt or any of that ‘I’ll do extra tomorrow to make them up’ cobblers. We’re now through 1000 miles in ten days, so that’s good enough for Government work!

Usual knee playing-up malarkey: Pharamacist recommended this non-medicated stuff over Voltarol…it is ace!

Tonight’s acco…Hobson’s Choice given the remote nature of things.

Don’t mess with the formula.

It’s so heartening to see the total tick ever closer to £10,000. You might be tired of hearing it but I can’t get tired of thanking all who have given. It’s a big deal. The standard two items of business remain…

Would defo have had your arm off if you’d offered that at 0715hrs!

Today’s tune has to be from the G-Man: thankfully there wasn’t too much brute force today but the usual quota of ignorance remained, Go on Rory!