Today, Friday, we cycled (a mere) 20 km from Killybegs to Carrick, but we left at 10:45 and didn’t arrive until 3:30. Noah, who is in the best shape of the four of us, was mortified when he checked out the breakdown of our daily activities on the GPS (which our bike tour operators, Ireland by Bike, provided to us).
“We could have walked faster,” he said.
Not really – it took us such a long time because we kept stopping. (And, okay, I confess: it took us such a long time because there were a lot of hills on the shore route. And they were either long or steep or both. And not all of us can zip up hills like Lance Armstrong in the prime of his blood-doping years.)
This is the flat part of the hill up from Fintra Beach.
Can you see how long and windy and hilly this road is?
But you’re not reading this to hear how out of shape I am. You’re not even reading it to hear about the trip. Admit it: you must want to see the scenery. And now you can understand why we took nearly five hours to go 20 km – we had to stop and gawp every 1500 meters or so (and also catch our breath and wipe sweat off our foreheads).
Some of my favorite things: the ocean, and sheep. In the same place! (Even Cape Cod doesn’t have that.)
Our first stop was at Fintra Beach, just outside of Killybegs. On the way to the beach we passed a new housing development that looked like something I saw the last time I was at Plimouth Plantation in Massachusetts, about 15 years ago: boxy little houses on a windswept plain by the sea.
I apologize for the less-than-impressive photo of the boxy houses. We passed them while going downhill, and I didn’t want to waste the momentum. So you’ll have to imagine them from this long shot.
Actually, a lot of what we saw today reminded me of Cape Cod. Also, a lot of what we smelled (mildew, seaweed, salt air). I feel very much at home here.
From Fintra Beach we rode along the coast to Kilcar, where we stopped at Studio Donegal, a woolen mill that’s been run by the same man, Kevin, since the 1970s. The weavers – today they were three men who appeared to be in their 50s or 60s — make beautiful wool that’s used for hats, coats, vests, jackets, scarves, and blankets.
This weaver is making a lot of scarves at once. The person cutting can tell where to cut them, because the wool separating the scarves is a different color.
This is Kevin, who runs the mill. He was explaining to us how yarn is made from carded wool.
Kevin showed us around. Some of the equipment is nearly 100 years old. It’s maintained by a fellow from Britain who has lived in the area for many years.
Wool on spindles.
Today’s big news is the Brexit vote: the Brits voted yesterday to leave the European Union. I was itching to know what people thought about it, but it seemed to me that most people we encountered, at least in our B&B at breakfast, weren’t interested in talking about it.
Dave and the kids and I talked about it – we were all shocked and upset (and for me, at least, worried about the implications for the US election) – but the other folks at our table didn’t join in our conversation. Maybe they were just as shocked, or maybe they hadn’t heard about it, or maybe they don’t talk politics with strangers on holiday.
However, Kevin’s son, Tristan, who was working the till, shared his opinion. He is convinced that Britain will keep holding referenda until they vote to rejoin the EU. He also said that he phoned their British employee this morning and joked (at least, I think it was a joke) that the immigration police were heading his way to kick him out of the country.
Instead of politics, we talked about wool. Tristan gave me a lesson about what makes good yarn (it has to do with the number of twists per inch, among other things), and showed me a number of different kinds of yarn for sale.
This yarn is in the back room — not for sale to the general public. But you get a picture (literally) of the beautiful colors.
After we saw this room, with the dyed wool ready for carding, the song Baa Baa Black Sheep ran through my head for the rest of the day. But there were way more than three bags full of wool in the back room of Studio Donegal.
There’s a commercial knitting mill in town that spins yarn for Studio Donegal. Studio Donegal gets its wool from local sources, and also from New Zealand and Australia. Tristan has also bought the remaining stock from a local farmer who decided to get out of the mohair business (maybe something happened to his goats?).
We wound up spending close to two hours in Kilcar, most of it in the mill, because while we were there the sky broke open and the rain came down in a big way.
There’s a saying in Cape Cod: “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” The same applies to Ireland. I took this picture about 20 minutes after an hour-long downpour!
We were definitely more prepared than we had been last evening, when we got caught in a downpour and only Dave had rain pants.
We were prepared because we stopped on our way out of Killybegs at McGinleys, a nice little shop that sells sporting equipment and clothes. Now Elizabeth, Noah, and I are the proud owners of rain pants. But just because we own them doesn’t mean we want to be out there, cycling in the rain…
My children fail to share my enthusiasm about our new rain pants.
Something clever 