4/9 Stormy Sea
What a night! It will be the first one completely without sleep. As beautiful as a sunset over the sea may be—and camping with a tent and a motorcycle on the beach certainly radiates romance—but: keep your eyes open when choosing a resting spot. Never pick a spot on a rocky shore, especially not when wind force 6 to 7 is forecast, with gusts even higher. The roar of the spray sounded deafening to me despite earplugs. So while photographing the sunset and writing travel stories I didn’t notice it, but when I later spent some time in the bunk, I already started thinking about my “forethoughtful” site selection. For a thrill, the stiff breeze also swept through the tent quite vigorously. I was confident I had secured the stakes sufficiently and safely, but when at night the tent wall keeps pressing against your face, it can get pretty unsettling. I already felt like Alice flying out of Wonderland. There probably wouldn’t have been any emeralds, but I’d still have been very surprised.
So the night was already an experience. Because of the sleeplessness I didn’t plan anything big, just clicked a little something together in the GPS and off I went. After about 50 km in the little town of Ballycastle my eyes started to sparkle: Bakery, open! Oh, there you go! Sure, breakfast was barely an hour ago, but on vacation cake can also be a midday thing. A few rolls with it (no, they’re not rolls, but the size fits, and I still haven’t figured out what they really are, supposedly they go with cheese), and chatted with the shopkeeper. She suggested a few interesting sights to me. For one of them I even accepted a few extra kilometres, which definitely paid off. The rock needle Dún Briste, over 50 m tall with its surrounding cliffs, is a sight worth seeing. There is also a cave system where the sea still bubbles and foams further inland. In Béal an Mhuirthead I take the opportunity for a service stop and treat the AWO to fresh oil. During the last oil level check the broth was quite black. So when the chance arises… and it presented itself today, without any time pressure. Bought new oil and performed a complete oil change on the engine and gearbox. Gearbox too, because I was unsure whether after the regeneration there might still be a bit of grit swirling around. So I thought, better to have it than to lack it. Conclusion after draining the gearbox oil: it could have stayed in. The engine oil, however, could be changed sometime. Only, what is that strange piece on the magnet of the drain screw? Cleaned, and? Look, a piece of a crankshaft bearing cage. Now I seriously wonder what this means for the rest of the ride. Well, for now nothing. It still holds that the AWO hums like a little bee. And with the cage, trouble will announce itself sooner or later. Only I can’t and won’t open the engine here to get to the bottom of the condition. On Colin in the Shetlands, during the seal‑ring change, nothing was seen of a broken cage. Thoughts about getting a plane and a replacement engine crawl out of the dark brain chamber, but I quickly brush them away. I take note of the cage piece and will listen especially carefully for the rest of this tour. May the rest of the tour end in front of my front door. On my own axle!
Time to think about the overnight stay. After the sleepless night – surprisingly I get through the day quite well – I play it safe and book a proper roof over my head, with a bed and a warm shower. After two nights wild camping isn’t so far‑fetched either. On the way there I also click together three castles along the route. But what a letdown! For number one I can only get within 50 m, and an excavator stands in the middle. Number two is on private property and I don’t even get to see it, if there is even one. And number three is completely scaffolded. Motorbike touring was nice again today, but the castle number we quickly forget. The accommodation is fantastically situated on a mountainside and offers a wide view over the land. Only the sunset today unfortunately falls into the water. The afternoon was sunny throughout, but a brief hour before a cloud front slid in before the horizon and ruined the show. From up here that would have been a real gimmick. And if it weren’t so freezing, it would be a nice spot to light a cigar and enjoy the view. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.
One thing I must note briefly: Ireland is incredibly beautiful and predestined for motorcycling, provided you’re not a frostbite and have decent rain gear. But the number of motorcycling tourists I encounter so far tends toward zero. I associate tourists with luggage, usually BMW GS with pannier boxes. Yesterday I saw one, today already two machines. Where are they all going? Only Norway and the Alps? Well, let that be right with me.
