Wicklow Way Part 2

Tuesday was a very tiring day even though I only hiked about 18 miles. I woke to very strong gusts of wind and rain and stayed in the shelter for quite some time, hoping that it would abate. When it became clear that it wouldn't, I set out into the elements. I dawdled along for several hours until I came to the beginning of a four-mile stretch which my guidebook said had "Rough winds". The trail followed the very highest point of the ridges of the Wicklow Mountains. It was a stunning view to my right--I could see the sea about 15 miles away--and to my left a beautiful mountain lake. But the WIND. The clouds were close enough for me to reach out and grab but they were being blown away from me at an enormous rate. One moment it was sunny and the next it was pelting rain. And the cycle continued over and over. The wind was so strong that I could spread my body out and lean over at a 45 or 50 degree angle and it would hold me up. No joke. It was exhilarating. But after a while the fun wore off and I realised just how draining walking into wind that strong could be. I have no idea how strong it was but I've never experienced anything close to it. I burned many calories going almost no where. At times I was knocked down into mud and puddles and onto the edged of dizzying precipices. My map was blown from my hand, never to be seen again. I lost track of time and had no idea how much longer it was going to go on. Finally I found a small boulder and hunkered down behind it for a little rest. The wind whistled all around me, but straight ahead was the most beautiful view. For some reason I thought of Walter Mitty and his ridiculous cell phone. But mine didn't ring. I pressed on again. Just when I was getting ready to go crazy from the wind, the rain and the noise, the trail turned down the hill and the storm abated. I actually laughed out loud in joy and relief. (One gets this way after living alone in the wild).

I hiked for several more hours, following way markers and trying to call up in my mind images if the map. I needed a plan if where to stay the night. I thought I remembered that there was a place called Knockgree Youth Hostel, and after 3 days outside I was ready for a shower. I finally found it in a valley and it was heaven. I made as much pasta as I could eat, read all of Animal Farm, and typed this up.

The next morning, Wednesday, I got up and made breakfast. Toast with hot water--it was all I had. I cast jealous glances over at the American springbreakers from West Point who were digging into their continental breakfasts. But they were paying €8.50 and I spent nothing.

I left at 9:30 and slowly walked the last 12 miles to Dublin. After everything I have seen in the last week and 150 miles it was quite dreary. Just a few hills, then a nice view if the city, then golf courses and fine estates. Finally I came to Marlay park, which is an enormous city park which marks the beginning/end of the Wicklow Way. I had finished. And not a moment too soon. I have forgotten to mention that my right foot has been hurting awfully for the last while. Now it can rest for a while. At Marlay park I dawdled around for a while, trying to find some sign or sight if even person who would congratulate me on the end of such a long pilgrimage. But there was only a parking lot. It was quite anti-climactic. Like Hadrians wall had been. The joy is in the walking and the best parts are in the middle. Both have long, booring stretches and I'm still trying to make up my mind as to which way is best for walking both of them. While I have longer walks ahead of me, I never plan to walk more than 16 miles a day. 32 miles in a day is insanity.

While I stood in the parking lot I was greeted by two older gentlemen. They took a look at my backpack and asked me if I was starting the Wicklow Way. I told them that I had just finished and asked them which bus would take me to the city center. They were kind enough to give me a ride in their car to the correct bus station. I bussed downtown, and then, after wandering around for a while found the Jacob's Inn, my Hostel. After dumping my pack I went to the grocery store and then made myself a splendid Italian dinner with pasta, bread and sausages for only €4.50. I should have taken a picture--it looked really good. I really live cooking for myself in these hostels and trying to see how creative I can get on a budget. Here's an idea: would you please comment cheap and gourmet ideas for me to cook up for dinner? That would be fun!

Tomorrow I fly to Bristol to meet my friend Natasha! I'm really excited to see someone I know again. After a few days with her I head to L'Abri!

Thank you all of you for reading this! I'm having a blast seeing the world but I miss home too. Peace.