Create a detailed route beforehand (and expect to change it a lot when you’re out there) Push hard but be f lexible
ESTABLISH A TRIP itinerary before you go and establish mileage objectives you’d like to hit, sights you’d like to see and places you’d like to stop at. Be thorough and exacting with the planning. Once you’re out there, adjust the plan, often. “Why go to the bother of figuring it all out in the first place if you’re going to change it anyway?” you might ask. Well, because planning before you go immerses you in the route and acquaints you with the options you may weigh when you’re out there. Certain sections of road may prove hillier or busier than you had anticipated. The weather may turn or you may have a mechanical that needs addressing or someone might come down with a stomach bug. Whatever happens, being familiar with the route will give you the confidence to adjust your plans easily on the fly.
The bulk of the Wild Atlantic Way route in Ireland is on so-called R or L roads that are generally quiet and free of fast-moving traffic but occasionally it slips onto the more arterial N roads that criss-cross the country. N roads are often no wider than their rural counterparts yet need to accommodate a much higher traffic volume that includes trucks, buses and RVS. There’s rarely a shoulder to ride upon. When we found ourselves riding on one of these N roads, we felt very vulnerable.
The Ring of Kerry is a peninsula that extends out into the Atlantic on Ireland’s southwest corner. The road that follows its perimeter is the N70, a dreaded N road, with enormous amounts of traffic on it. There were no R or L roads for us to take. Rather than risk our lives facing down speed-crazed drivers for two days, we adjusted our route on the fly and cut across the peninsula. We rode the Gap of Dunloe instead. In my research before we left, I discovered this route and now, under the circumstances, jumped at using it immediately.
The Gap of Dunloe is a narrow road that punches its way through the imposing mountain range that runs down the spine of the Kerry Peninsula, which includes Carrauntoohil, Ireland’s tallest peak. The road is a magical wandering that links tiny mountain tarns up through a labyrinth of towering cliffs and walls of green. It unfolds like a vision in a fairy tale’s dreamscape coming to life.
Over the course of our cycling adventure, I carried my daughter Arianna’s violin atop my trailer in hopes that she’d play it. She’s a member of North Vancouver’s North Shore Celtic Ensemble and has a quiver of Irish songs at her disposal. Our hope had been that she’d join a traditional Irish musical jam at some point on the journey and get a feel for a true trad session in its element. But this never materialized. At this point in our journey, after hauling this considerably awkward and bulky item for more than 1,500 km on the road, I’d come to regret my decision to bring it in the first place. But there, on a small rocky outcrop, Arianna took out her violin and began to play the traditional Celtic ballad of Thegapofdunloe on the Gap of Dunloe. The sound of her violin pierced the pristine silence with only the gurgle of a mountain stream as her accompaniment. The moment was an enchanting interlude that revealed the potential delight of adjusting on the fly.
THE YOUNG FRENCHMAN we met at the viewpoint over the Doolough Valley, County Mayo, said, “You don’t come to Ireland for sunny skies, do you? You come for other reasons.”
Bicycle touring with kids is bloody hard and can be downright demoralizing at times. But it also touches on something else, something more meaningful, something more transcendent. As adults, we’re able to rationalize ourselves through the difficult times on a journey. When you have your kids with you, it can be more challenging. In tackling the Wild Atlantic Way as two families, we knew we’d have to push our kids through some difficult times. We knew that by pushing them they’d become stronger, more capable and, ultimately, more empowered young adults. By facing uncertainty, discomfort and struggle, we believe our children will discover their own capacity to cope and, in the end, we hope, will become more resilient. But here lies our parental balancing act: we need to push our kids to get stronger, allowing them to bend just far enough that they rebound tougher, but not so far that they crack and break. Where this fracture line lies is always on our mind.
Our intent was to camp for most of our journey on the Wild Atlantic Way. Out there we decided, when we faced exceptionally hard days in the saddle, to stay in guest houses instead. We elected to stay at the surfside Rougey Hostel in Bundoran after being thrashed by a storm that hit us in Killybegs. We nestled into the 300-year-old Beach Bar and B&B at Aughris Head in County Sligo after being lashed by driving wind and rain through County Leitrim, and we huddled up at Mccarthy’s Guest House in Westport after riding 100 km through nothing short of a tempest in Sligo. “But those are the days you’ll remember,” said Geraldine, the hostess at Mccarthy’s. “You’re seeing more of Ireland than I ever have.”
Managing your children’s rolling emotions on a bike-touring journey will be the biggest challenge you’ll face. Push hard but know when to back off.
Riding Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way was not a leisurely spin, but an arduous physical challenge through a wild and unpredictable environment.
We saw the best, and occasionally the worst, that Ireland had to offer. It tested us, pushed us and forced us to see and experience things a little differently than we’d planned. It dished out heaping loads of Type 2 fun that, at times, had us questioning why we chose to come in the first place. In the end, we came away gobsmacked. Ireland was enchanting.
There were times when we were focused on getting somewhere only to have a herd of cows emerge onto the road, stare at us with empty indifference and saunter along in front of us for as long as they bloody well wanted to. We discovered that tomorrow’s forecast was never correct, but always included wind, rain, clouds and sun in some combination. We noticed that hills were always steeper than they said and that the road surface, at times, would shred a truck tire.
There were moments when the rain stopped, and the sun peeked out to reveal a landscape so green that the colour took on a completely new meaning. We found ourselves skirting a coastline that ended so sharply that it felt like riding on the roof edge of a building with its stonefaced facade plunging hundreds of feet down to the broiling ocean below. We met a nation of people who simply wanted to receive you, find out “how yee were?” and pass the time of day through lazy chat.
Cycle touring with kids is definitely not for the faint of heart, but for those who have the appetite to face the grumblings of worn-out youngsters (and oldsters) and to embrace the unexpected at every turn, journeying with your kids by bike is guaranteed to be a trip of a lifetime.
“In tackling the Wild Atlantic Way, we knew we’d have to push our kids through some difficult times. We knew that by pushing them they’d become stronger, more capable and, ultimately, more empowered young adults.”