Yep, with the cartoonish leprechaun trademark it plays very much into idiot American stereotypes of Irish culture I thought, but I didn't get a photo so I suppose I'll just have to stifle my indignation. Maybe I need a "safe space" against hurtful things, pretty sure that's the latest trend


Day 16: Doolin to Ennis. 30 miles, 675 miles total.


As of that morning Wildcamping-7 nights, Campgrounds-3 nights, Youth Hostels-1 night, Hotels-4 nights. 15-nights total.

A shopping expedition that morning for a wool sweater for my wife. You can still get the hand-knitted originals, but they are WAY mainstream now and priced accordingly. Instead, a machine-made variant of Australian merino wool bearing the "made (by Irish machines in this case) in Ireland" Arran Industries label was a suitable stand-in.

Then up the hill to the uplands east of Doolin....



I do believe this was the N67 north of Ennistimon and the town Ennistimon itself but I could be mistaken, the road could be the N85 south of that town.





Thus far on this trip, apart from Glasgow which lay right in my path, I had done a pretty good job of avoiding urban areas. Ennis was a surprisingly large community with what seemed like a ring of suburbs to get through. It rated its own ring road. Furthermore, the gist I was getting was that Ennis was a far suburb of Limerick, which in turn was a surprisingly major metropolitan area. I dunno how true all this was or is but that's what my impression while on the bike was.

Riding on a busy urban four lane road into Ennis I saw two road cyclists pull out ahead. It was a long shot but I wanted to catch them to ask them directions to the bike shop.. Fastest sprint of the whole ride, those guys were in shape and I was hustling 70lbs of bike and stuff, but I caught them at a roundabout. Just as we were coming to a halt there was loud "POP!shhhhSHHHshhsHHHSsssss....." coming from my front tire. After about 70 miles the 5 euro note I patched the inside of the tire with a couple of days back had burst, right through the middle and out through the original puncture in center tread.

This could have been a problem, except that after 70 miles that 5 euro patch failed right across the street from the bike shop.



The tires were in, and the service outstanding; tires, tubes and a free thorough going-over adjusting and lubing of the bike. Two hours later I was on my way.

And now, a quandary: Twenty miles to the major urban center of Limerick by the more direct route, longer than that by the bicycle-app recommended route, plus the only campground I could find on the Irish campground app was fifteen miles beyond that. If the going were slow for any reason, darkness could find me in a city. Plus there was a big match on in the Euro Cup that evening (the final?? France vs. Portugal?? I think so because this was the last time I watched TV on this trip).

The deciding factor was that there was a youth hostel in Ennis. Reluctant to stop with hours of daylight left, I actually rode the busy loop around the town, paused at the city limits, and then turned back to the hostel. I should have taken more photos in this crowded old town with its narrow streets. It comes as no surprise to learn that the city has a long history, and like so much of Irish history, much of that history was shaped by English occupation.

Way early it was the seat of the O'Briens, and there was the inevitable ruined priory in the middle of town.



But in the 18th Century, British penal laws had forbade Catholics from residing in walled cities, and since Ennis had no walls and sat astride the Fergus, a navigable tributary of the Shannon, it became a major center of commerce.

Here's the Fergus, seemed sort of small for a river of such import, the youth hostel is the building on the right.

.

Mike