I awoke to a hard surface pressing into my head, my little inflatable pillow had finally given up on me and developed a hole. It had served me well; I wasn’t too annoyed as this was the last night it would be required. We had gotten up a bit earlier than normal as we knew this would be the last day of the race and we wanted to get to the finish as early as possible so my Mum wouldn’t have to drive back to Dublin so late into the night. Between us and the finish was 270km of lumpy West Cork coastline. A big day out, but with the carrot of it being our last day, we knew we’d make it. The day got off to a horrible start, when we were swarmed by midges while we were packing away our gear. It’s a maddening sensation having midges crawl over any exposed bit of skin. Thankfully we had all our gear on, so it was only our faces that were exposed, but still, it’s safe to say it was our quickest decamp of the whole race!
It was a soggy morning as we rolled out with heavy clouds and wet roads. We were a few kilometres into the day when we were going through Glengariff. We spotted a water fountain and proceeded to drink our fill as we always did when the opportunity presented itself. As we were stopped here, another TAW rider, by the name of Tudor, stopped with us. We were having a brief chat when an articulated lorry came hurtling through the village at a terrifying speed, coming way onto our side of the road as it came around the corner. Thankfully we were all on the pavement by the water fountain when this happened, but it was scary to think how else it could have ended up. Jack and I were on another slow burner that morning, so Tudor rolled on from us the moment we hit a slight incline, so we said our goodbyes. It had started raining then and we were eyeing up any opportunity to get some hot food. After about 16km, a deli shop beckoned in the distance and we dripped our way to the hot food counter and had hot breakfast rolls to heat us up and prime us for the day. We came across Tudor again in the shop and this would turn into a trend for the day.
After rather too long a break (over an hour and we didn’t even care, compared to the first day when we were fretting about stopping for 10 minutes, what a difference eight days of riding makes!), were we had hoped the rain might stop, we geared up for a wet day’s riding. We carried onto Sheep’s Head Peninsula, the smallest of the peninsulas we’d tackle in Kerry and Cork, but it still felt like a brute at this point in the race. There was an out and back section, where we again came across Tudor, and the weather started breaking up and as the day went on, we were yet again treated to an uncharacteristically warm and sunny day.
After Sheep’s Head Peninsula, we had to make it out to Mizen Head on the Mizen Peninsula, the last peninsula we’d have to conquer in the race. Mizen Head is Ireland’s most South-Westerly point and a tourist attraction, so we were once again dodging cars and buses full of tourists. We reached it at around 14:00 and were once again reunited with Tudor. There’s a tourist shop where I proceeded roam around (probably frightening tourists given the state I was in) and buy a fridge magnet for Amy as a present, as it’s generally what we do when either is on holiday without the other. I put it alongside my coaster from the ferry crossing as extra stuff to be carried in my front carrier bag! I called Mum at that point and told her we only had 160km to go and that we’d make great time to Kinsale as we had a great tailwind to blow us along the coast. At that moment, we were confident we’d make good time, regrettably we did not anticipate the steepness and quantity of hills that had to be ridden between Mizen Head and Kinsale…
One by one, Jack and I slowly conquered the seemingly never-ending climbs, and inched our way closer to the end. With around 100km to go, we seemed to think we were essentially done and had finished the race, there was only a mere 100km to the end, we knew we’d make it baring anything major. After we’d cycled another 10km, we quickly realised that there was still a way to go and we were eejits for thinking otherwise. But we had a mounting sense of excitement as we got closer and closer to the finish, instead of thousands or hundreds of kilometres to go, there was less than a hundred! I had always had personal doubts going into the race, would I be fit enough, strong enough, resilient enough, mentally tough enough? For both of us, we questioned if the Brompton’s (and the prototype components) would hold up, would our knees hold up? We had both had wobblers in the first few days yet had worked through them and kept going knowing that things would get better and the hard times would pass. I had been prepping myself before the race for something to go wrong and for us to have to abandoned for whatever reason, so to be at this point in the race was slowly becoming liberating, we would make it to the end in one whole (mentally, physically, and mechanically) piece.
We pushed on along the breath-taking West Cork coastline, trying to take in the scenery, which was getting more difficult due to our weariness. With about 15km to go, we turned off for the last Head of the trip, Old Head. We were running on fumes at that point, the day’s riding would turn out to be one of our longest days with the most metres climbed during the race, but nothing would stop us at that point. On what would be the third last climb of the whole race, I got too confident and pushed myself hard on it. I partly blame the upbeat song I was listening to at the time (“Right Hand Man” from the Hamilton Musical for those wondering) and possibly the codeine, but I wrecked my knees and had to limp the final 15km to the finish line. We kept pushing, or staggering in my case, and were soon rolling through Kinsale. The town was buzzing, given it was a Friday night, and as we passed one pub, some lads gave us a cheer. I presume they were earlier finishers enjoy some post-race pints. The finish line was on the far side of town in a little holiday house estate and, as if by some cruel joke, was at the top of a little hill with the steepest climb of the day so far. We would normally have walked such a steep climb, but we were having none of it at that point and powered up it, our knees be damned (I’d regret that over the coming days!). We came around a corner and the finish line beckoned!
As we turned into the holiday home enclosure and were greeted and followed by a race staff member taking a video of our arrival as we rolled under a self-made finish line banner. I let Jack roll me at the line, only because I knew Thea would be there waiting for him, not because I was tired or anything. Jack inadvertently cycled past Thea as he came to a stop, not recognising here (hopefully because it was dark and not because he was delusional and thought she may be an apparition), but as she approached, I was delighted to see complete surprise and shock on his face, making all the logistical conversations worth it. I got a “well done” and big hug from Mum to which I could only respond, “Jaysus lads, what was that last hill all about!”. All of this was captured on video and was poignant to look back on as it was quite a moment for Jack and me. After a hug from Adrian, we were each handed a can of Guinness (remember we said we’d have a post-race Guinness during our pre-race Guinness?) and we proceeded to toast to our achievement and have a few pictures taken. We were later told, by Mum and Thea who had been sitting and waiting for a few hours (remember I had told Mum we’d make great time from Mizen Head?!), that we received a huge response upon our arrival, with most of the staff and a few riders coming out to greet us, compared to other riders who had arrived not long before us. It must have been down to our charisma and charm, and nothing to do with the quirkiness of the Bromptons…
It was about 23:00 when we arrived and, after our brevet cards were stamped for the final time (my card was in a terrible state due to a crushed electorate tablet and spilt water), we were treated to an divine oven pizza that we gobbled up and after some chat with some other riders who had finished earlier, we started to prep for our return journey to Dublin. Not before it was established that Mum was the notorious Sandwich Mum that everyone seemed to have heard of at this point! It was just as well that we hadn’t booked a room at the holiday homes as they were overfilled, mainly due to the tailwind from Mizen Head to Kinsale, far more riders than expected had finished quicker as a result. But we were shown a spare shower where we could freshen up as Mum wasn’t too keen on having two cyclists who hadn’t showered properly in nine days sticking up the car for the journey home! In my mind it would be the most triumphant shower I’d ever had, but alas, it was quite terrible as the shower head was broken and the stream of water very underpowered, but still, it was nice to get use some soap and shampoo. In the bathroom, I got to have a good look at myself in the mirror for the first time since the race started, and I was pretty disgusted to find my forehead was extremely spotty and rashy (as were my legs), and that my tongue was covered in lots of what looked almost like zits. Turns out nine days of exercising and not washing isn’t great for your skin hygiene.
We dismantled our bikes and bags and packed them into the car, which was a real struggle for Jack and me as we were still borderline delusional from sleep deprivation, but we piled into the car and commenced the journey home. Jack and I fell instantly asleep as did Thea eventually, but Mum was a trooper and drove all the way home in abysmal conditions, I remember waking up at one point and it was bucketing down. We arrived back at my Aunt’s house at about 03:00, where it was also lashing, and we bundled straight into the house and left all the gear to be dealt with the next day. As I tucked into a warm soft bed for the first time in ten nights, the rain was pounding against the window and it was potentially the cosiest I’ve felt in my life. I still recall the moment very clearly. I had done it. I had completed the TransAtlanticWay race and lived to tell the tale. Nine months after signing up to it, and after all the prep it had entailed, Jack and I had completed it.
Distance (km): 271.96
Elevation (m): 3,218
Moving Time (hh:mm:ss): 14:50:14
Elapsed Time (hh:mm:ss): 18:39:09
Moving Time Percentage: 79.55%
Average Speed (km/h): 18.3
Calories: 5,385
Average Heart Rate (bpm): 102
Strava Link: https://www.strava.com/activities/2477501765
