Go South My Boy.

Day 23. 

Mileage 2275.

One of these days, I’m going to stop procrastinating. Apologies to all who’ve been waiting for the latest installment of the blog, it’s been over a month since I’ve had a chance to sit down in front of a computer as we’ve been overwhelmed by the hospitality and generosity of friends and family.

Dad, kickstarting the journey, in Cork, Ireland.

So it is finally underway, the Cork to Cape Town adventure has begun. The past couple of weeks have been a roller-coaster of red tape and false starts but it now feels as though we are making progress. After returning from the Grand Canyon rafting trip and adjusting to a different pace of life we said goodbye to friends and family in California. Maureen and Dan were kind enough to let us use their home as a staging area for the last few preparations before our departure and Randall and Linda threw a farewell party for our last night in the Sierras. With a fixed deadline and pre-arranged flights there was no turning back so anything that was left behind at this stage was deemed unnecessary.   We spent our last night in California in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco listening to eclectic mix of local bands. An early flight the following morning took us to Syracuse, New York via a long layover in Philadelphia and by eleven that evening we were settling in at Paul and Randi’s beautiful home in Ithaca. 

Four days in Ithaca, in beautiful spring weather, saw us sampling the local beer and food, exploring the gorges and enjoying the company of family who showered us with warm hospitality. All too soon it was time to move on and the next leg of our journey took us to Boston where we traced the ride of Paul Revere, stood at the spot where the ‘shot that was heard around the world’ rang out and had a moment of reflection on the shores of Walden Pond. Suzanne and Peggy took time out of there busy schedules to show us around the city and make our last few days in the USA thoroughly enjoyable but, before we knew it, we were boarding our flight to Ireland and saying farewell. 

Thoreau's Cabin, Walden Pond, USA

A smooth flight across the Atlantic took us directly into Dublin and before long we were driving a sporty little rental car North toward my home town of Strabane. It had been almost two years since we’d set foot on the ‘auld sod’ and seen family so the prospect of coming home had kept me awake for the entire journey. As the roads became more familiar and we neared the family home it felt good to return, even the weather welcomed us with a rare sunny day. 

With a fixed base, for a few days, we now had the time and resources to track down our motorcycles which were due to arrive in Dublin on May 6th. However, while we’d been rafting on the Grand Canyon, a customs official in Texas was efficiently making a mess of our shipping arrangements, assuming we were exporting the bikes to sell in Ireland. With Customs now involved in the process, what should have been a simple shipment became a bureaucratic nightmare with multiple agencies demanding their pound of flesh for the ‘importation’ of our own motorcycles which would then be leaving the country again in less than two weeks. Making no progress over the phone we decided to drive to Dublin and talk to the parties involved, in person, to explain our situation. Without the help of Dad, this would have been extremely difficult  as we shuttled from one office to the next, each one at either end of Dublin, but by late afternoon, on May 13th, exactly a week behind schedule, we were riding our reassembled bikes out of a bonded warehouse in Swords, Dublin. 

Unpacking the bikes in Swords, Ireland

It felt a little surreal to be riding our bikes South towards Cork and the beginning of a voyage that’s been no more than a dream for so long, but there we were, Dad with car and trailer towing his fully restored BSA Bantam, Micky on his Kawasaki ER6-F which he had ridden over from Scotland, Beth and I on our bikes, our little convoy riding into the sun at the end of a productive but exhausting day. 

St Anne's Church, Cork

The following morning saw us rise early, pack the bikes, and make our way to one of Cork’s most recognizable landmarks, Saint Anne’s Church containing the Bells of Shandon. Known to locals as the “Four Faced Liar’, each of the clock tower’s four faces tells a different time, it provided an ideal start for the Cork to Cape Town ride. Dad kickstarted the Bantam, Micky pulled up on his Kawasaki and Beth and I officially began our journey to South Africa. We spent the next few days winding our way up the West coast of Ireland, enjoying the tight, twisty country roads, dealing with all kinds of weather. With the delay at Dublin port, however, we were on a much tighter schedule than we had planned for and by Thursday evening we were in Portstewart for the North West 200 motorcycle races.  Thankfully we got to catch three of the races then as all the subsequent Saturday races were cancelled because of heavy rain.

The Cork and Kerry Mountains

We spent most of Sunday drying out, washing and packing our gear and bikes before driving to Belfast to stay with Joan, Shane and Shane Og. On Monday we took our bikes into the Jordanstown School (http://www.jordanstownschool.org) where Joan works as a teacher to give a presentation to some of her students. The afternoon saw us catch up with Gerrie at Ryan’s Bar before it was back to Joan’s and our final night in Ireland. We caught the ferry to Cairnryan in Scotland on Tuesday morning, said our final farewells to Maureen and Dan and took the quieter coastal road up to Glasgow where we stayed with Micky and Carol who kept us well fed while Brendan and Marly kept us thoroughly entertained. From Glasgow we turned North to see a little more of the old stomping grounds and friends from my college days at Jordanhill. An overnight stop in Glen Nevis at the foot of Ben Nevis, Britain’s tallest mountain, left us wondering if we could fit in a hike and still make it to our destination of Findhorn at a reasonable time. Sure enough, next morning, we hoofed it up the Ben in record time and were on the road by early afternoon getting into Findhorn in time to watch the sunset over the bay as we munched on fish and chips. Holly, Ava and Ayla welcomed us in to their beautiful home at the Finhorn Foundation and we drank another night away with a laugh and a joke. 

Paddy's Milestone, Scotland.

Beth getting high on Ben Nevis.

From Findhorn we meandered our way back down through the Scottish highlands into Glasgow for a few more nights with Micky and Carol and a cheeky pint with the contagiously cheerful Tom and Kate before continuing South into England via the East coast. We made a short stop at the Holy Island of Lindisfarne across a tidal causeway before continuing down the coast to Whitby and through to Robin Hood’s Bay. The winding coastal roads took us through quaint villages and rolling farmland with hilltops dotted with crumbling castles. In Robin Hood’s Bay we stayed at the North Cliff B&B run by Callum, a partner in crime from college days, and Rachel before being treated to a fascinating tour of the village by Carrick, Tim and Isla. Tiny houses cling impossibly to the steep coastline with a warren of steep paths and hidden  passageways connecting each dwelling like something from an Escher lithograph and the surrounding area, with the nearby town of Whitby, inspired and feature in Bram Stoker’s classic novel Dracula.

Josh and Beth in Liverpool, UK.

Horizons Unlimited UK 2013.

Yet again it was time to move on and before long we were back on the road, this time to Liverpool to check in with Josh at Active Adventures, a purpose built outdoor activity centre on the shores of the Mersey River. Home to the biggest high ropes course we’ve ever seen with enough activities to bring out the child in everyone it’s tucked away at the edge of the city in a beautiful setting. With a nasty storm chasing us from the North we kept our visit short and pushed South to Donnington Park for the beginning of the 2013 HUBB UK meeting. For the next four days overland adventurers from around the world gathered at a converted farm to share tales and advice from the road. Our trip pales in comparison to some of the itineraries planned by our fellow travelers but it was good to rub shoulders with like minded souls who don’t frown upon what we’ve set out to do. Workshops and presentations covered a variety of topics and destinations, there was even a class on how to prepare and cook road kill. A motorcycle skills course was set up in the grounds, professional photographers came to share their knowledge, established travel writers gave advice on their craft and budding film makers debuted their latest work. By Sunday morning we felt inspired and ready to take on any challenge the road had to throw at us so we bade farewell to our fellow travelers and took to the road. By mid afternoon we were pulling into Bristol to be greeted by Mel and Katie with cold beer and an endless BBQ. After two days of exploring Bristol and the surrounding area with Sean and Kevin as our intrepid guides we are preparing once again to say goodbye and put the UK and Ireland behind us.

From Cabot's Tower, Bristol, UK.

As chaotic as it has been, the one constant on our journey so far, has been the kindness and generosity of everyone we have been with along the way especially our friends and family. We are forever grateful for all you have done for us and we are are well aware none of this would have been possible without your help, we look forward to the day when we can return your hospitality. To my father, Noel, who joined us on the first leg of our journey on the same motorcycle he owned as a young man, you are an inspiration to us, every time we gaze upon the wonders that await us we will look twice, once for us and again for you.

Mel, Kevin and Sean, Cabot's Tower, Bristol.