Time has not been my enemy this summer; although the bad weather has. Thanks to my sabbatical from coaching football and hurling, I have had the time to enjoy what scraps of sunny evenings there were available. I got a bike last May. It came as an early birthday present. Given the fact that my weight had crept well past a healthy level, it came with a veiled threat that I had better put it to good use. The first few weeks were hell. They were mostly about training my backside to sit on the saddle. I would set out from home, cycle four or five miles and return home sore and exhausted. Week by week things improved. I would cycle a little further and not be as tired. By the time July arrived; the cycling spins got longer and I felt much fitter. I was enjoying the cycling to the point where I could take the time to enjoy the pleasures of the countryside. With the arrival of the August bank holiday weekend my toughest test began. It was the start of my annual two-week holidays in the West Kerry Gaelteacht. The bike came too. I planned my cycling schedule carefully and allowed for rest days – after all, I was on holidays. My target was to do 30 to 40 kilometres cycling a day. Things went well, in general. I managed to avoid the worst of the rain, although I was once forced to take shelter for nearly an hour under an outside stairs at Louis Mulcahy’s Pottery as a monsoon passed by. I found a new unseen enemy too; the wind. One morning I was feeling elated as I whizzed along the road, it wasn’t until I turned to come back that I realised the wind had been pushing me. The homeward journey was sheer hell. Despite the rain and the wind I was feeling very happy with achievements. There was, however, one challenge that I kept putting off. As the end of my holidays approached, I knew I was codding myself if I did not face this challenge: that was the route from Dingle to Slea Head around to Dunquin over to Ventry and back to Dingle. This route is part of Stage Four of the Fáilte Ireland Tour of Ireland which begins today in Dublin. For the seasoned competitive cyclist my cycle was not a particularly long trip. The full stage is just over 186km. I was only doing 40km, but there is a very nasty little climb between Dunquin and Ventry. It was this particular two-kilometre, (it rises from Dunquin to185 metres above sea level) which had put me off the route. The climb is called Mount Eagle on the Tour of Ireland schedule, its correct name is the Mam Clasach. (Pronounced Maum Clo-sock) I decided not to cycle into Dingle to start the stage. The distance from my own house near Ballyferriter to Ventry is nearly the same – in fact a little longer – as Dingle to Ventry. I had not travelled far when I was caught by a nasty shower of rain. Worse still, I realised that the prevailing wind was into my face. At that stage I was heading in much the same direction as I would be on the Mam Clasach. My resolve weakened as I wiped a raindrop from the front of my helmet. I would have preferred a warm sunny day, but I could not postpone the cycle any longer as I had to return to Cork. Then the thought struck me, “If I can’t do this climb today, on the 15th of August – the Feast of the Assumption – I’ll never do it.” The trip from Ventry around Slea Head was a dawdle; the wind took care of that. My watch, which doubles as a pulse rate monitor, showed my pulse in or around my training zone most of the time. My bike speedometer showed that I was averaging 22km an hour; not bad considering I was going slightly uphill to Slea Head. The trip from Slea Head to Dunquin is mostly downhill. I was feeling good until the rain came again. It was raining fairly heavily when I turned on to the Mam Clasach. This was when the wind hit me right in the face. The Mam Clasach is a gap between two mountains; Mount Eagle (or Sliabh an Iolair) is on the western side and Cruach Mhárthain is on the Dingle side. When the wind blows it is a natural wind tunnel. They say that tight rope walkers should never look down. I know now that when you are cycling up 185 metres over 2km of mountain pass, you should never look up. My first aim was not to get off the bike; no matter how slow or how low a gear I had to use. I pedalled on in the low middle gears for a while. Then a car came against me. There was barely room for us to pass. In order to stay on the bike I had to make a quick change to the lowest or “granny” gears. The speedometer showed I was doing 7km per hour. As my speed continued to fall, my pulse continued to rise; the wind continued to blow. Every August, the road side of the Mam Clasach is dotted with the orange flowers of the Monbretia. As I struggled on – I was now down to 5kph – I noticed the backside of a large bee tunnelling into a Monbretia flower. He trying to find some nectar that the rain had not washed away. He gave up as I passed and to my consternation he buzzed off up the hill at about twice the speed I was traveling. The road levelled off for a little while and I got some respite. My pulse dropped but the wind did not. The rain has stopped but you would not know it by looking at me as beads of sweat dripped off my nose. At last the top was in sight, but it seemed to be taking for ever to get there because I didn’t have the energy to get out of the “granny” gears. I started down hill. It is amazing how fast 40kph seems when you are used to travelling at 10kph. Because the road was narrow and winding I had to hold my speed at around 40kph for a while. When the road straightened, I let go the brakes. I quickened up to 45kph, then 50, then 55, then 60…61…62. This was much more fun. I approached the next bend and slowed to 40 again; its amazing how slow 40kph is after you have been travelling at over 60. All too soon I was at the end of the Mam Clasach, just opposite Paudie O’Sé’s pub. I turned left for Dingle. As I approached Ventry I turned left again and headed for Ballyferriter. There is a hill on that road but it felt easy now. My trip of 39k took an hour and three quarters to complete. This was reasonable considering I seemed to spend most of the time on the Mam Clasach. I felt tired but happy and relaxed. I have developed a huge respect for racing cyclists. What I did took me to the limits of my endurance. Starting today the Tour of Ireland cyclists will do 800% more than me for five days in-a-row. Then, they will finish it off with four laps of Patricks Hill in Cork next Sunday. If you are free next Sunday go along and give them a shout. They are indeed mighty men.