It had been 3 years after my last bicycle expedition. In the summer of 2023 that all consuming feeling to be on the road again, facing blue sky and nature, became as intense as ever.
I had lost considerable wait and was feeling i great shape. Further more, I had bought a new titanium frame bicycle that was perfect for bikepacking, and I was really keen to use it on a long distance trip.
I had been dreaming about the Wild Atlantic Way since I set foot on Ireland. In my mind it was an incredible adventure full of nature, spectacular ocean views, fisherman villages, and lots of Guinness.
And so one day of August 2023 I jumped with my bicycle on a Train to Cork. Once there I cycled to Kinsale for the night and the next day, I started what I can consider easily one of the most incredible adventures I ever had on a cycling trip. All I was imagining and expecting came back to me multiplied by 100!
August 6, 2023: an epic adventure begins
Arriving in Kinsale, where the Wild Atlantic Way officially begins, I was greeted by a sign adorned with a poignant Irish blessing:
May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far.
With these words resonating in my heart, I embarked on my journey along the Celtic Sea. The romantic allure of Ireland, steeped in folklore, breathtaking landscapes, and ancient history, was finally within my grasp.
The first day delivered on the “wild” promise of this coastal route. Pedaling over 100 kilometers, I was mesmerized by golden beaches, dramatic cliffs, and landscapes that seemed plucked straight out of The Lord of the Rings. After countless climbs and 5,700 calories burned, I pitched my tent and cooked a simple but satisfying couscous salad. Exhausted but exhilarated, I fell asleep to the whispers of the Irish night, wary of the mythical fairies.
Nights Under the Stars and Encounters with Legends
Camping in Ireland is an experience like no other. The eerie calls of owls and foxes punctuated the quiet night, adding a sense of mystery. One particularly strange moment jolted me awake: an inexplicable shout of “Hey, friend!” outside my tent. Fairy mischief or a figment of my imagination? Either way, I marveled at the dew-laden grass and a sky filled with stars, before drifting back to sleep.
The following days took me through the southern peninsulas—Mizen and Sheep’s Head. Ancient Bronze Age stone altars and castle ruins stood as silent witnesses to Ireland’s 4,500-year history. I reveled in the solitude of these wild places, reflecting on the resilience of those who lived here long ago.
August 8: The Ecstasy of the Beara Peninsula
Cycling can swing between the extremes of pure bliss and pure misery. On this day, bliss reigned supreme. The Beara Peninsula unfolded like a cyclist’s paradise, with heather-covered hills shrouded in mist and the Atlantic waves crashing below. Rolling climbs, thrilling descents, and landscapes of unbridled beauty made it one of the most exhilarating rides of my life.
After more than 90 kilometers, I stumbled upon a quaint fishing village with a bustling pub and B&B. A hearty meal of mussel soup, salmon, and Guinness at the harbor was the perfect reward for a day well spent.
Conquering the Ring of Kerry
The Ring of Kerry delivered lush vegetation, hidden beaches, and breathtaking mountain views. Even the humid 23-degree weather couldn’t dampen my spirits. By the time I reached Portmagee, I had logged 220 kilometers over two days. The rain, ever-present in Ireland, added a cinematic touch to the landscapes, casting a mystical aura over the rocky cliffs and rolling waves.
Climbing Connor Pass and Beyond
The Connor Pass, often hailed as Ireland’s most challenging climb, proved to be less intimidating than anticipated. With mist swirling around me and strong winds pushing back, I found a rhythm, conquering the gradients with relative ease. The descent, however, was fraught with gale-force gusts that threatened to send me careening off the edge. Yet, the views and the sense of achievement made it all worthwhile.
The day ended with a serendipitous discovery: an expansive, deserted beach where the relentless winds dashed my hopes of flying a drone but heightened the raw beauty of the moment.
August 12-17: From Moher to Sligo
The Cliffs of Moher were as awe-inspiring as I’d imagined, their dramatic drop into the Atlantic a humbling sight. The route to Galway and beyond was a tapestry of geological marvels, ancient castles, and lively towns. Along the way, I met fellow travelers—a motorcyclist from Italy, a couple from Colorado, and a young cyclist from Britain—all sharing stories that underscored our shared wanderlust.
Connemara, a visual symphony of mountains, lakes, and bogs, demanded frequent photo stops. Its haunting beauty defied description, leaving me both enchanted and eager to explore more.
The Final Stretch
The Wild Atlantic Way culminated in Sligo, with a punishing but exhilarating ride against relentless winds. From the ancient Ceide Fields to the storied Downpatrick Head, Ireland’s rich history and rugged charm continued to unfold. Each climb and descent revealed new treasures, making every effort worthwhile.
After 1,464 kilometers and nearly 18,000 meters of elevation gain, I arrived in Dublin, completing my loop. The journey had tested my limits, strengthened my spirit, and gifted me unforgettable memories. Cycling the Wild Atlantic Way was not just a physical challenge but a soulful exploration of a land steeped in legend, beauty, and resilience. There’s magic in venturing into the world with nothing but two wheels, the open road, and an unquenchable curiosity to explore!