It had been 3 years since my last bicycle expedition. In the summer of 2023 that all-consuming feeling to be on the road again, facing blue skies and nature, became as intense as ever.
I had lost considerable weight, and I was feeling in great shape. Further more, I had just 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 of cycling the Wild Atlantic Way since the moment I set foot on Ireland. In my mind it was an incredible adventure full of nature, spectacular ocean views, fisherman villages, great people and excellent pints 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 easily consider one of the most incredible adventures I ever had on a cycling trip. All I was imagining and expecting about Ireland came back to me multiplied by 100!
Cycling the Wild Atlantic Way: the travel diary
Sunday, August 6, 2023 – Welcome to the Wild Atlantic Way
2500 km along Ireland’s west coast, a route encompassing iconic landmarks from the Cliffs of Moher to the Ring of Kerry, the Dingle Peninsula, Connemara, and so much more. After four and a half years of moves, work, and pandemic-induced weight gain and inactivity, I’m finally embarking on this long-awaited journey through this stunning island.
Ireland has always held a romantic allure for me, a land steeped in folklore, legends, and breathtaking landscapes. I’m eager to immerse myself in it all. My route will take me to Westport, and from there, eastward to a company offsite. The preparation for this trip has been extensive, starting back in April with a strict diet, gym sessions, and meticulous tracking of daily calories and weight.
Finally, the day has arrived. Yesterday, as I entered Kinsale, the starting point of the southern route from Cork, I was greeted by a sign bearing a fitting 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.”
Let the adventure begin!
August 6 (Evening) – Wild Indeed!
This part of Ireland truly lives up to its “wild” moniker. I’ve clocked about a hundred kilometers, hugging the Celtic Sea coastline. It’s a dream come true, with breathtaking seascapes, golden sandy beaches, and scenery straight out of Lord of the Rings!
After countless ups and downs and burning 5700 kcal, I found a spot to camp for the night. A quick stop at a nearby supermarket, and Chez Luca – Field Kitchen produced a cold couscous salad with tuna, cherry tomatoes, and mozzarella. It was promptly devoured, fueled by an insatiable hunger. Couscous is a perfect camping staple, requiring minimal water (and fuel for the stove) and ready in just five minutes.
Checking in from my tent, hoping not to encounter any fairies tonight. Good night!
August 7 – Camping with Banshees
Camping in the open air is always a unique experience, even more so in Ireland. I’m convinced that many local folklore legends originate from the strange nocturnal sounds of the local wildlife, like barn owls and red foxes. The latter are particularly terrifying when they wake you in the night. Last night, I heard a couple of these heart-rending howls that sounded eerily like Banshees…
I eventually drifted back to sleep, only to be jolted awake at 3 am by what I could swear was an emphatic “HEY FRIEND!!” shouted outside my tent. I shot out, ready to face any humans or fairies. Mess with my bike, and you’re in serious trouble!
But there was nothing and no one. WTF. I took the opportunity to take a walk and relieve myself in the tall grass. I was alone.
The sky was clear and starry with the crescent moon high above. It was cold, and the grass was soaked with dew. Curious, I checked my Bluetooth thermo-hygrometer: 12.2 °C and 89.9% humidity. My watch’s barometer showed a plummeting pressure… it was definitely going to rain.
I crawled back into my sleeping bag and onto my thermal mat, and at 6:30 am sharp, I packed everything up and put on my rain gear.
Leaving the Celtic Sea behind, I cycled the two southernmost peninsulas on the Atlantic, Mizen and Sheep’s Head (although the Wild Atlantic Way cuts Sheep’s Head in half), navigating often challenging ups and downs, ancient Bronze Age stone altars, wild beaches, and the ruins of old castles. Truly incredible. You don’t often think about it, but Ireland has millennia of history: during the Bronze Age (2500 BC – 500 BC), the Celts were organized into small allied kingdoms, up to the legendary High Kings who claimed dominion over the entire island. We’re talking about 4500 years of history, and that altar placed in that solitary and wild place testifies to how complex those societies were. Now in a hotel, waiting to tackle the Beara Peninsula tomorrow!
August 8 – A Day of Cyclotouring Bliss
Today was a truly memorable day! My personal take on cycle touring is that it alternates between days of pure euphoria and days of utter misery (wind, rain, closed or wrong roads and the resulting wild goose chases, and in my personal inferno, traveler’s diarrhea). But the euphoria is so intense that when you get home, you forget the difficulties and only remember the good times, which is why you want to do it again… like a hangover, in a way.
In my ranking of cyclotouring euphoria, today was one of the best days ever.
First of all, from a pure cycling perspective: the Beara Peninsula is a cyclist’s paradise. The scenery is stunning; as you climb a little (a maximum of 120 meters), the vegetation gives way to moorland. Today, the peaks were shrouded in fog that in some cases gently descended towards the Atlantic, a wild and powerful beauty. Constant ups and downs, sometimes with ramps at a 12% gradient, fast descents, always with the ocean in the background… I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Maybe it’s because I’ve regained my ideal weight, maybe it’s because the bike is ultralight, but the climbs no longer bother me, even with the penalizing gear ratios I currently have and which worried me so much… We’ll see what the Conor Pass has in store. After more than 90 km, my legs were still going strong. And as I consider what to do next, by pure chance I end up in a fishing village with a very visible pub and B&B right at the exit of the bend.
Scene: the pub, the B&B in front of me, the pier on the bay with blue plastic planks crowded with locals, a procession of Guinness devotees with two pints in hand, the sun being covered by clouds and the temperature instantly dropping to 13 °C… OBVIOUSLY I had to stop. Luckily they have a free room, I’m the only foreigner here. Shower and change of clothes and down to mingle with the crowd… A phenomenal mussel soup with soda bread, salmon with potatoes and two pints of Guinness, on the pier at 13 °C reconcile me with the universe. Then I move inside the pub: small, crowded with people and apart from the music that is not there, exactly as I imagined a pub in a fishing village on the Wild Atlantic Way would be! This alone is worth everything!
August 11 – 500km and Counting
Yesterday I reached 500 km, 220 of which were in the last two days. On Wednesday, leaving the Beara Peninsula and cycling the Ring of Kerry with a 110 km ride to Portmagee, at the westernmost tip of the Iveragh Peninsula. Yesterday, another 110 km completing the Iveragh Peninsula and the entire southern part of the Dingle Peninsula, up to the village of Dingle itself.
Wednesday was a day of beautiful sunshine, while the Beara Peninsula was characterized by the stark beauty of the moors, as soon as I entered the Ring of Kerry the vegetation was instead thick and lush. Unlike the Mediterranean scrub with its pungent smell (for example the strawberry tree or juniper), the Atlantic scrub is distinguished by the high number of ferns and a delicate scent between Irish gorse, hawthorn, broom flowers.
The temperature of 23 degrees was pleasant, but the humidity at 89% made the march more tiring, especially traveling the two mini passes that I had to cross. But between the coast with the intense blue sea, hidden (and not) beaches and mountain landscapes I filled up with beauty. In the evening the extension to Portmagee, now tired and hungry. At dinner, given the large number of people around, I struggled to find a place, so I opted for a 1/4 ton hamburger and a jar of take-away fries, so I could enjoy the sunset view on the rocks of the pier. Back in the room I notice that the barometer has plummeted from 1016 to 1009 (and then 1003), and given the strong wind I could only expect rain… I distracted myself with the very interesting library that the owner of the B&B leaves available to guests, between treatises of medieval literature on myths and legends of courtly love to Irish stories, while he works hard in the fields and takes care of his cows.
Yesterday morning, as expected, I therefore left early between gusts of wind and buckets of water in the face. This was the last test to which to subject my new bike and the Apidura bags: test passed with flying colors, perfect grip on wet roads and everything dry.
I did Valentia Island from Portmagee via bridge, and then on the other side a short 600m transfer by ferry. The rain did not leave me for the first 55 km but soon became drizzle… in the end I found it more manageable than the sun with the humidity at full blast the day before. And then it adds a lot to the charm of Ireland: imagine coasting along rocky cliffs overlooking the sea with the waves crashing on the rocks, and a light mist mixed with rain coming to your face… Total bliss!
At one point the rain stopped and I found myself in a random place, Killorglin, with apocalyptic lines of cars to enter the city. Atmosphere of a big village festival, stalls, a lot of people around… I continue and in a huge open space I see… A horse trading fair! Intrigued, OBVIOUSLY I immediately jump in to observe closely: it was the Puck Fair, the oldest festival in Ireland (400 years). It begins with the capture of a mountain goat that is crowned “King Puck” (then it is released, nothing bloody), an event that gives start to three days of celebration, horse fair, cow fair, music in the square and fireworks… Spectacular!
After this discovery I resumed the march and at that point I began to push hard, I wanted to arrive in Dingle at a not too late hour to recover a bit in view of the Conor Pass today. Unfortunately the last 25km I did them with an inexplicable, very intense traffic and under the rain that returned to the level of buckets in the face… The roads are narrow and the continuous coming and going, noise and exhaust fumes were unbearable, mitigated a little by the large presence of electric cars on the roads, which instead flow silently and without infesting you with puffs of smelly fumes.
For dinner I went to a nice pub, since they had Guinness stew… Inevitable. It must be said that Guinness with cycling finds its death, when you stop tired, hungry and thirsty the pints go down that is a beauty. Maybe too much 😅
Good sleep and today the Conor Pass, considered the most difficult pass in Ireland but with a spectacular view. So we are at the showdown with the 1×11 gearbox whose longest ratio is a 40/42, today I will understand how manageable it is to do more demanding things with the loaded bags…
August 12 – Conquering the Conor Pass (or Not)
But this Conor Pass, which fellow cyclists had described to me as “very tough”, “the hardest in Ireland”?
Used to the Wicklow mountains outside Dublin that have slopes of 12-15%, I expected at least a vertical wall to climb with anti-gravity rays (cit).
I even thought of a shorter stage to recover; yesterday morning I put the wheels at the maximum recommended psi (40) to reduce the contact point with the asphalt and therefore the rolling resistance; I degreased, cleaned and lubricated every single link of the chain, the pulleys of the gearbox cage, cassette and sprockets.
Mindful of the Cobram Cup (an omage to the “Fantozzi” Italian comedy movies from the 70’s) I also take “a bbbomba”: 475 ml can of Red Bull that instead of “metredyn simbamyn franceschyn bullshityn and cayenne pepper” has taurine, caffeine and a taste of atavistic crap, but you never know!
I start, it immediately starts to climb! 2%, 4%, 6.6%… Climb management strategy; harder gears and low cadence at the beginning, to scale as the climb becomes more demanding. The tragic similarity with Fantozzi and the Cobram Cup is immediately revealed with ignorant fog on the summit and gusts of cold wind at 500 km / h, obviously against my direction of travel. But the legs engage: 60 rpm, 70 rpm. Slope 7, 8%, I manage with 40-28, 40-32, and sometimes 40-36, even some very small stretches between 10 and 12%. “Let’s leave the 40-42 for when it will be really difficult!”
And suddenly 5 km later I see “500 meters to the top”.
WHAAAAAT??
But how? All here? That is, but these jinxes who told me these things, if I took them to do the same day Brunate-Bisbino combo what would they do? Do they throw themselves with the whole bike down from the Voltian lighthouse to do it first??
Well, the wind was still a serious problem past the top it started with tremendous gusts from my right that on several occasions almost made me skid (due to the sail effect of the bag on the frame), and the fear of flying down was concrete. I put myself as much as possible in the center of the road and off down, where instead there was the sun but the tremendous gusts of wind continued.
I even found a wonderful, huge (for km) and deserted sandy beach. I thought I could finally make some shots with the drone, but the wind was so strong as to make the enterprise impossible.
The rest of the day passed quietly until evening, where I arrive at my destination together with a herd of wild Italians who immediately: pass me in front in line as if I were transparent, scatter all 20 in every corner of the reception making a mess, nail the poor woman at the reception asking random things “pliiiisss”. I observe with an evident facepalm but remain detached, then I discreetly ask to have my breakfast 1/2 hour earlier, to avoid the swarm of tricolor locusts that – I’m sure – at the buffet will have raided everything like the 7 plagues of Egypt!
To close dinner at the local golf club, with a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean…
…And today stage to the Cliffs of Moher!
August 12 (Evening) – Cliffs of Moher and Irish Weather
Today a long ride towards the Cliffs of Moher, in County Clare. Classic Irish day with sun-wind-rain-wind-clouds-wind-15-minute-downpour-wind… Did I already say wind? Completing County Kerry gusts so strong as to almost make me skid, up to the ferry in Tarbert for County Clare. Judging by the numerous wind turbines, it was no coincidence. Ferried to the other side the wind has not subsided, but it was another day of beautiful landscapes and scenery, winding roads through the fields, continuous ups and downs, solitary beaches and cliffs.
By 3 pm I had already clocked almost 85 km, despite having also today made more than 1000 meters of total elevation gain… And burned almost 5000 kcal.
Tomorrow Galway and in the following days Connemara, still to be planned carefully.
And now FOOD…
August 13 – Beauty Everywhere
Today the Cliffs of Moher, the spectacular road along the coast, Galway.
Truly beautiful, between formations of geological interest that support marine ecosystems to ancient castles still full of beauty… And finally Galway, where I had already been with Tintin but that I see again with pleasure, in perfect schedule and after 750 and broken km.
And equally beautiful, the people you find on the road passionate about two-wheeled travel who approach you to exchange 2 chats!
The Italian motorcyclist with the Guzzi who every year comes to take a ride in Ireland.
The British cyclist who saw my bike is struck on the road to Damascus and bombards me with questions because he would like to do it too.
The Italian girl at the reception who takes the train on which she loads the bike to take rides immersed in nature on weekends and who goes crazy for the beauty of Ireland.
The middle-aged Colorado couple who used to take long rides in North America and who ask for advice on Ireland.
The overweight American gentleman who has three Surly bikes, two touring motorcycles and would very much like to resume riding on two wheels and who does not want to give up his dream of doing the coast to coast after doing a piece of the Continental Divide.
All stories with the common thread of feeling the need, from time to time, to be out in the world, to “feel” the road under the wheels, with the wind in the face, the sun on the skin and with the sky as a roof…
Tomorrow the Connemara begins!
August 14 – Connemara: A Cinematic Landscape
Clifden, the “capital” of Connemara. More than Connemara… CINEmara, for how scenic it is!
Leaving Galway nothing memorable, I noticed a little more urbanization for several km. Things changed about 20 km later, the landscape became more hilly, then a sort of grassy moor, and finally numerous small lakes and a decidedly spectacular mountain landscape appeared.
The writings and indications on the road signs here are no longer normally in English or bilingual, but in Gaelic, the toponyms (names of lakes, villages) are usually carved on rock using a character with a “Celtic” flavor.
I clocked about 115 km without making stops, by 2 pm I had already traveled 75. I decided to aim for Clifden skipping the tour of a small peninsula because I wanted to spend the night here.
A difference that immediately catches the eye compared to other places is that here, despite the sold out, practically no one is seen on the street, everything is very quiet and quiet. I found a “under the radar” bnb (an Irish family that rents rooms) where to spend the night, discounted price and tea with welcome biscuits!
Then a short tour of Clifden in search of a nice pub, I found a very cute one where I ate mussels with all the trimmings and a nice baked salmon fillet… Now planning the stage towards Westport and then to bed!
August 15 – A Scenic Ride to Westport
And when I thought I had framed everything in the variety of landscapes encountered so far, today everything has changed. The Wild Atlantic Way has taken me on solitary roads where the beauty of Connemara has emerged with force, in the form of spectacular beaches, mountains and lakes.
Literally I couldn’t move forward because I wanted to stop to take photos every 15 seconds!
After about 100 km of these wonders I arrived in Westport, in County Mayo, and since everything is sold out and the campsite was a hassle to reach I found a place at the local hostel… yay.
For dinner a pizza, also today almost 1000 m of elevation gain induce me to stock up on carbohydrates…
And from tomorrow begins the gallop towards Sligo in two stages!
August 16 – Adventure Finds You
When you say you want adventure, adventure finds you, from the smallest to the largest to the annoying things.
And last night the ANNOYANCE™ made itself known: at 11 pm I was already in bed, after spending a couple of hours in the common area of the hostel to map out the next stages. Room for 4, me and a Spanish boy and girl. Tired as I was I fell asleep instantly, until after midnight… a middle-aged Englishman (but if he continues like this I would say he is at 10/11) enters, DRUNK STIFF, and wakes everyone up not finding the bed. Somehow he manages to get to bed, and from there the delirium: he fell asleep, went into apnea, woke up and spoke loudly “where am I?”, “bollocks!”, “shit!”, “I have a proposition!”, and the MASTERPIECE “I might be SLIGHTLY intoxicated”… No shit Sherlock! “Slightly”? If they take a sample they find a little blood in the alcohol.
At first I thought “well let’s be patient he’s drunk”. But he continued. And I was so sleepy and had a lot of km to do. Finally at 2 am, my head said “be patient”, and my mouth opened by itself, inviting him with great kindness to STOP GRATING OUR CABBASIS, interspersed with some F * Word to make the idea more intelligible… And finally the silence. Well then he started snoring, but better that than the monologue.
This morning 92 minutes of applause from the poor Spanish girl, in Spanish, while the English troll snored blissfully… Something to throw a bucket of ice water on his head…
Tired but determined to leave that torture chamber behind at 7:30 I load my things on the bike and flee in search of a full Irish breakfast. I find a place next to the hostel and fill up, then immediately take the road… After 12 km I stop at a service station to clean the chain and transmission, and what I didn’t pull from the chain and the tensioner pulleys! I start again and perhaps also thanks to the carbohydrates in the pizza the night before, by 3 pm I have already traveled 90 km… In the good old days of central Asia the golden rule was that if by 3 pm I had done at least 70 km, it was a good day that could be closed at 140-150 km at least. Interesting to see that this improvement has occurred in just 10 days, my only limit now are the saddle sores… I have to redo them, today after 105 km I felt them all. It is also true that the new Brooks saddle still has to be broken in, even if I have now done well over 1000 km.
Among always fascinating landscapes I arrive at my destination, a B&B found by pure miracle with a deviation of only 2km from the Wild Atlantic Way, this week finding a place to sleep is a titanic undertaking, everything is full.
It is managed by an adorable Irish couple a little older, who prepare me a substantial dinner (chicken, vegetables and boiled potatoes and an apple pie drowned in custard cream),… Definitely home cooking, which I devour like a hungry wolf. Even the house dog is adorable and immediately comes to make acquaintance… Now we hope for a less eventful night… And tomorrow Sligo!
August 17 – The Longest Day
This morning full Irish breakfast at the Yellow Rose B&B. Finished eating my eye falls on a photo of Cape Downpatrick with… A Northern Lights?
I immediately ask the owner:
“Sir, can you see the Northern lights here?!”
“Yes we do! Not as frequent as once… Or who knows, who sticks their eyes on the skies anymore, everyone looks at their phones all the time… But when I was little there was only one TV in the village. At 9 they had the news, and we kids thought ‘ugh! the news!’, we didn’t want to watch them and we ran out… And the northern lights were there. I was frightened by them!”.
“Frightened? They scared you?”
“Well yes they were always changing and mysterious, in the mind of a child those became monsters”
(I LOVE IT ❤️)
Finished pleasantries and greetings I leave and meet an elderly French couple, touring by car and camping in a tent! They speak very good English but I manage to show off my rusty French: they ask me about the bike, where I’m going, what I saw… They are here for the Wild Atlantic Way, like me.
I set off and soon arrive at the Ceide Fields: one of the oldest testimonies in Europe of the Neolithic cultures that brought agriculture and the subdivision of land with stone walls. They were skilled, they had very advanced knowledge of the world and nature around them. Today in this area, which has become a peat bog, the excavations bring to light testimonies of a past in which living conditions were very hard and life expectancy did not exceed 20 years…
I absorbed the whole exhibition like a sponge and immediately afterwards I set off again towards Cape Downpatrick. Here is a huge rock detached from the rest of the cliff. According to legend, it was generated by Saint Patrick who, exasperated by the refusal to convert of a pagan king who had taken refuge where there is now the rock, with a blow of his staff caused the collapse of the rocks that connected the rock with the mainland, thus isolating the pagan king.
Here there is also an observation station that during the 2nd World War notified the Allied command of the arrival of a storm that would have compromised the landing in Normandy.
And I obviously down photos, losing track of time, until I get back on the bike.
Around 3 pm I realize I still have 73 km to do, and having beaten the slack between exhibitions and photo-ops. The need to lengthen manifests itself: with the Surly I made epic extensions, for example the 185 km in the Mangistau desert to reach Beyneu. Or the crazy race to reach Dushanbe after wasting time with the searches on the Uzbek side off
Here there are moments when you have to make the extension, and today was one of them.
Stopped at a service station I take some Powerade, a banana, water and start running like never before. The ups and downs are deadly, but the biggest problem is the wind: IMPLACABLE all day. Deadly gusts that come from right or left, making you skid, or in front making you do triple the effort… But I do not give up, my new titanium bike is very docile, and she and I understand each other immediately: if a gust of wind arrives it is not abrupt in reacting, but gentle, giving you time to balance the weight of the body. With the surly in similar conditions of headwind and extension during a critical day, I could not exceed 54 km. But here instead the km flow away quickly and the bike does not disappoint. I arrive in Sligo after 120 km and an average of 19.56 km / h, which with the headwind is a miracle…
Towards the end San Google Maps finds me a farm road avoiding me to enter the highway, patrolled by kids with plastic karts that seeing you arrive challenge you:
“HEY LET’S RACE”
“You want to race? Sorry children I can’t, I am not so strong as you!”
“AND THEN… THEN… DO NOT COME BACK! EVER!”
(lol)
I finally arrive at my destination, quick shower and a nice hamburger to recover… Today 120 km, 1200 meters of elevation gain and 5500 kcal burned.
With the arrival in Sligo I close the Wild Atlantic Way, from tomorrow we pedal towards the company offsite.
August 18 – A Day of Transition
Today a day of transit and decompression, only 90 km to recover a bit from yesterday’s race. Intermediate stage in Longford, a large town in the middle of the Irish countryside. The day went by quietly among quiet country roads. The strong wind of yesterday (and at times also today) made me suspicious about the potential arrival of bad weather, and in fact the barometer of the phone has plummeted from 1008 to 997 hPa. It means certain rain, and for the whole day in fact it has lapped me, but I have escaped it. Departure from Sligo and immediately after a cyclist about 60 years old, very energetic joins me and we start talking – he has many questions about my trip, the route, my bike… we greet each other (keeping the breath talking uphill was trying both of us) and after a while I arrive in a village, I take advantage of it for a short raid to the local minimarket. I meet another elderly cyclist who professes his love for Emilia Romagna. I take the road again and after a bit of quiet countryside, google maps takes me on the N4, a fast-flowing road on which bicycles are allowed (with a sign for overtaking cyclists at 1.5 meters). Even if the emergency lane is wide enough sometimes it narrows, leaving you at the mercy of vehicular traffic. After a few km of stress I got out and found a comfortable route through the countryside that took me right into Longford… A nice regenerating bath in the hotel and then dinner with a nice steak that reconciled me with the world… Tomorrow stage towards Navan!
August 19 – Towards the Offsite (and a Puncture)
And finally today I arrive in Navan, near the location of the company offsite! Here weekend of recovery and relaxation with Tintin who came by car… Today 93 km and 1500 m of total elevation gain, constantly battling against the rain, which at times fell in buckets and often forced me to put on my rain gear… only to take it off after 10 minutes. Route all through country roads, lots of bucolic quiet broken only by some mooing or bleating. Along the way detour to the village of Fore, with its well-preserved medieval monastic complex, still visible the cells of the pious hermits… You can not help but think how life must have been in such a place, especially during the long and dark Irish winters. Continuing at a good pace unfortunately 30 km from Navan an event occurs that had not happened to me since 2014 in Turkey: a flat tire! With the Surly I mount Schwabe Marathon Touring tires, each tire weighs one kg… These Hutchinsons are not bad but they are not so resistant. I try with the rapid foam, it seems to do something. I reassemble but a check after 3 km reveals that we are back to square one… So I change the inner tube, during the inspection of the tire from the inside I find the culprit: a bastard but jerk nail that has stuck in the wheel (and luckily for the portable USB compressor, which immediately puts me back on track). Last acceleration and finally Navan, where I wait for the sweet half to arrive (I arrived first 😂). Today and tomorrow relax, then Monday morning I will pedal towards the company offsite, and Wednesday when it ends last sprint towards Dublin, where the tour will close!
August 20 – Web Summit Offsite at Slane Castle
…And finally at the Web Summit 2023 company offsite at Slane Castle! Wednesday the final sprint to Dublin which will close this fantastic tour! 😭
August 23 – The Final Push to Dublin
Leaving Slane Castle after an epic offsite… final sprint to Dublin!
August 23 – FINISHED! Stats for Nerds
In the map (not included here, but imagine a map of Ireland with the route marked in red), the entire route of this summer. In dark orange, the piece up to Cork last December (excluded from the following statistics, but shown to show the entire ring tour).
I traveled 1464 km in 15 days exactly (therefore excluding the days stopped for the offsite), at an average of 97 km / day. The maximum distance traveled in one day was 120 km, the minimum 70.
The average daily speed was 17-18 km / h at the beginning, reached 19.65 in Sligo, the last sprint in Dublin 20.64 km / h. On the plain I touched 37/38 km / h of maximum speed.
The total accumulated elevation gain was 17304 meters, practically 1.95 times Everest. On average, each day an elevation gain of about 1153 meters.
Using a heart rate monitor I measured the kcal consumed with two different apps, and the results coincided almost perfectly: I burned 71167 kcal, equivalent to a daily average of 4744 kcal / day and 9.24 kg of body weight. I lost only 3kg because every day I tried to consume at least 3000-3500 kcal between full Irish breakfast (for proteins to repair muscle fibers), sugary drinks and substantial dinners with enough carbohydrates for the next day.
If I had been a 100% efficient diesel engine, I would have traveled 188km with one liter.
If I had been a 100% efficient gasoline engine, I would have traveled 164km with one liter.
If I had been an electric vehicle, I would have traveled 18 km with a kwh (my electric car does 6.75, so I would have had to recharge it 2.66 times).
Since I used a bicycle, 95% of the energy used was transformed into motion and 5% into heat (friction, etc.), against 30-70% of a diesel engine, 25-75% of a gasoline engine and 85-15% of an electric vehicle.
