One man’s epic cycling tour of Ireland and Wales
Joey Patton, author of The Celtic Cycling Circle.
A few years ago, I joined monthly coffee morning zoom meetings staged by an EU funded project called ‘Ports, Past and Present’ run by academics from University College Cork and Wexford Council, together with academics from Trinity Saint Davids University in Lampeter and Aberystwyth University in Wales.
The meetings consisted of presentations by talented artists, poets and academics who spoke of the past and present Ports that link Ireland with Wales. These talks also set the agenda and routes for ‘The Celtic Cycling Circle’, my cycling tour and subsequent online book.
My journey through Ireland began from Rosslare Europort at 4am to witness sunrise and followed a magical network of traffic-free country lanes which at this time of the morning were in total darkness. As all you can see is limited to the distance of the front light’s shine, other senses — particularly smell and hearing — are heightened. The cold night air smelt surprisingly refreshing. Rustling noises coming from trees and hedges combined with occasional squeals from the undergrowth to betray the presence of wildlife.
Some 16km/10miles later, dark country lanes joined a main road into Wexford town arriving there at 5am. It used to be the case that only milkmen and people ‘up to no good‘ are out and about at 5am, so it came as no surprise to have attracted the attention of the Gardaí.
Before Rosslare opened as a port, people made sea crossings to Wales from here, including an Irish missionary called Ignatious. In the third century, he introduced Christianity to Wales and his 2.4m/8ft headstone, cut from stone and brought over to Wales from the Wicklow Mountains, rest by the altar of my local church.
Continuing from here, I arrived in Arklow to witness daybreak. The new day was heralded by a fine mist of light showers, marked by a collective twittering, tweeting and chirps from birds.
Autumnal colours looked like a landscape painting that could befit the finest art gallery; canopies of trees that once bore the green leaves of summer were changing into delicate golds tipped with strong surges of reds.
As the morning air became less still, some gently fluttered down from their branches to lay at rest on the ground. This morning will be a lasting memory.
Shortly afterwards, I arrived in Wicklow, whose twin towns include Porthmadog in Wales. Memorably, members of Côr Meibion Madog / Porthmadog Male Voice Choir have sung in Wicklow.
My next place of interest was the famous Port of Dún Laoghaire. For centuries, people have departed from here to seek work in other countries including James McCuskern from Sligo, who left to find work in England. He married a local girl; their grandson was my dad.
High above the sea front, the National Maritime Museum of Ireland tells the story of the harbour, whose centre piece — 'The Bailey Optic' — came from Howth Head lighthouse, where I would also visit.
The journey to Howth passed the North Quay, where a Diving Bell rests next to the quay walls that were used by men who climbed inside to excavate and deepen the River Liffey so that boats could berth to import and export goods to Dublin.
The harsh working conditions for men working inside the Bell is told in a poem on the 'Ports Past and Present' website.
Cycling into the centre of Dublin, I came across a building on Talbot Street that used to be a Welsh chapel. It was built for sailors from Wales to attend Sunday service and was used by local Welsh girls who found housekeeping work in Dublin and also by people staying overnight before sailing elsewhere.
Howth Harbour was used during the Union years by packet boats carrying parliamentary mail between Dublin Castle and London until the Port of Dún Laoghaire opened.
