The plan: Carlisle-Crewe-Holyhead-Dublin-Westport and return same route, cycle to Achill Island via a disused railway line, DART Connolly-Malahide
Part 1: introduction; preparing for the trip; travelling to Holyhead; boarding the ferry
Friday 28 August 2015
Introduction
To make the most of a day out or railtour bash, I usually wake-up at 04:30, quite a bit earlier than on a typical work day. However, on this first travel day to Ireland (my first-ever visit to the Emerald Isle), I awoke at my usual time, as I had booked an overnight ferry cruise from Holyhead. It felt strange not having to rush around to pack things - I had all day to rush around!
My reason for choosing an overnight crossing was due to not wishing to be stranded in Dublin in the event of a cancellation of HSC Jonathan Swift (if I were conveyed on the 14:10 Ulysses service, I would miss the last train to Westport). According to Irish Ferries, 5% of Jonathan Swift sailings are cancelled - the catamaran ferry is quite vulnerable to high winds. By going overnight, I could ensure a reliable connection, and have 1.5 hours to cycle the 8 km to Dublin Heuston station. But why not use Stena Line, I hear you ask. My understanding of Stena Line's loading procedure is that they place bicycles in a van, then drive that van onto the ferry. Apart from the obvious concern of potential damage to my bike, it would rob me of the opportunity to cycle a route that very few people ever do.
Preparation
On a visit to Scotland last year, I filled my two large panniers with 6 kilos of stuff that I thought I would need for the trip (I call this the 'kitchen sink' approach) - I just never considered how this extra weight would make cycling harder. Therefore, I set myself the goal of no more than 1.5 kilos of stuff for this trip. Rather than take 3 litres of water, I would take just 0.8 liters and buy the remainder on the way - this left me with a limit of 0.7 kg for everything else. My bike lock weighed 550g, so I purchased a smaller/thinner lock that weighed 100g. My Samsung Galaxy tablet-computer also weighed-in at half a kilo, so that was ditched along with my 970g binoculars (I wanted to be disconnected from the virtual world anyway, and cloudy skies in Scotland meant I didn't even use my stargazing binoculars!). A jumper, pump, sandwiches, deodorant, comb, tissues, vitamin tablets, spare AA batteries etc. all came to 0.7 kg in total. I put the rest of my stuff (camera, purse, mobile etc.) into my coat pockets. Once done, I spent 5 hours watching the extras of the film Insurgent. A few weeks ago, I had considered attending the 100th anniversary of the Ravenglass & Eskdale Railway, which just so happens to start today (I'm not much a fan of kettles but more a fan of miniature railways), however, having pulled overnighters previously, I understood the folly of over-exerting myself on the preceding day: doing as little as possible before the overnighter is key to staying awake and alert on the following day.
The journey
Whenever I leave the house for a trip, I always experience a panicky feeling of wondering whether I have left something behind (not an entirely unjustified feeling as I once forgot my camera - perhaps the most important item to me apart from my travel tickets/documents). This time was different: I had all day to pack and had already gone through this feeling hours before leaving the house. That feeling passes after a few minutes, and then my mind is racked by another anxious feeling: what happens if the TOD doesn't work? Although TOD has never failed me, I still OCD about the 8-digit FasTicket reference, and I often memorise it! On this trip, that feeling was also absent, as I had already collected my SailRail tickets almost 3 months ago (cycle reservations are required for both legs of the journey to Holyhead, so I had to visit Carlisle station anyway to arrange those - I could have used Virgin Trains call centre but I have a hard time understanding strong non-English accents). One anxious feeling that wasn't absent concerned my bicycle: what happens if I have a flat tyre or the chain breaks on the way to the station? In the two years I have owned the bike it has been fault-free, but as I have never owned a bike previously, I didn't know how long the parts would last (the longevity obviously depends on how much you hammer it). As a cautious person, I considered having my bike checked before embarking on such a long journey, but according to my local bike shop, I should bring it in for a check-up after 1,500 km, and as I had only clocked-up 900 km and there were no obvious faults, there was no need for servicing until after my trip (I anticipated putting at least another 400 km on).
I arrived at Carlisle Citadel station with 24 minutes to spare, and took a seat on the wooden benches on platform 4 near the entrance. There were a dozen or so passengers nearby (most of these boarded a TransPennine Express airport service that arrived a few minutes later). The station is probably one of the most interesting on the West Coast Mainline, and I usually arrive early in order to mooch around the various displays and leaflet racks dotted around the concourse, but I was too excited to do anything except sit and wait for 9M61 (17:40 Glasgow Central to Birmingham New Street), usually worked by a 221 set. Loading a bicycle on a train can be a bit of a lottery (where does it stop, which end, which door etc.) but the station layout can play a part in reducing the stress of loading. Yes, Virgin has platform displays that show the expected formation, but these can be incorrect, and I have found to my cost that duff info is worse than no info. At Carlisle, the platforms are wide and deep, allowing one to get a good look at the formation before the set stops - other stations are not as forgiving, regrettably. If the service was being worked by a 390 set, I'd have Virgin staff swarming all over me as soon as I stepped onto the platform, but they are very much 'hands-off' when it comes to 221 sets: they will point you in the right direction, but you are basically left to fend for yourself after that. For this reason, I would have preferred a 390 set, and it so happens there was one 10 minutes earlier than 9M61, but I was unable to get Virgin's journey planner to give it to me (selecting 'extended station dwell times' on WebTIS sites would have worked, I'm sure, but WebTIS does not support SailRail-type tickets).
Right on time, 221113 showed-up at 18:56 with first-class at the front as expected, and I timed it such that as I approached Coach A at the rear, I arrived at the correct door just as the 5-coach set stopped: it was a beautiful bit of station choreography! After placing my bicycle in the horizontal bay, I stepped into Quiet Coach A, seat 44 (the coach was so lightly loaded that I ignored my reserved seat). A woman opposite me was buried in her tablet-computer - it almost seemed like she was teasing me that I didn't have my tablet with me! But seriously, the view out of the window is all I need to enjoy a bash: no music, no book, no electronic distractions. I chose the left-side of the coach so that I could enjoy the Howgill Fells, arguably one of the best sights along the West Coast Mainline. I didn't see any train crew during the 2-hour journey (not unusual). I enjoyed the Howgills, but did feel a tinge of sadness: whilst the loading varied throughout the journey, it was never more than 15% loaded. The CO2 emissions per passenger km are obviously higher with fewer passengers, but the worst aspect is that there is a perfectly good 25 kV power supply just above the roof for the entire diagram... On approach to Crewe, the tablet woman did something that I see quite frequently on my travels: she started looking through the door windows to determine which side to alight from, long before the platforms were visible! As I had studied the journey on RTT and memorised the platform number, I could have put her out of her misery and pointed to the left-side, but platform allocations can and do change, especially at large stations like Crewe, so I opted not to say anything in case the platform turned out to be different to that given on RTT.
As I walked slowly along platform 5, I spied two members of staff staring intensely at me (or rather, at my bicycle). Of course, Virgin Trains staff are trained to check for cycle reservations, but given that I was walking along a platform where a Virgin Trains service had just departed, I found this attention puzzling. In any case, after glancing at the departures screen, I realised that I had to double back in order to use the lifts and bridge. Upon reaching platform 9, I found 175011 idling away. I figured that they were cleaning/preparing the set, and as I had never travelled with Arriva Trains Wales, I didn't want my first ATW experience to be a negative one (at Carlisle, Northern Rail staff have no issues with allowing early birds onboard during prep, but different TOCs have different attitudes). Around 20 minutes later, 175101 arrived behind 175011, and it was 175101 that did the honours in taking me to Holyhead (just as well I didn't board 175011, but as it formed the 22:29 Crewe to Holyhead service, I would have arrived at the ferry terminal only an hour later, and as I had at at least a 2-hour wait, that would have been no great shakes). This would also be my first 175 bash, so I was really chomping at the bit to board!
I found the cycle provision to be excellent: a large area with wheel grips on each end and seat-belt attachments to make securing a bike quick and easy. Whilst sorting out my bike, a young woman asked me whether this train went to The Valleys - I confirmed that it did and that there was no need to tell the driver to stop; the guard will make notes of request stops as he/she walks through (at least that's what I imagined the guard would do, just like on the Cumbrian Coast Line). For ease of reference, I decided to name her Carly, as she looked liked the singer Carly Simon. Moments later, Carly was joined by several other young people, and they drank wine throughout the journey - lots of wine! They were quite noisy but I was so excited to be finally on a journey that I had been contemplating for months that it didn't bother me in the least. Likewise with the lack of a view due to the sun having set an hour ago - this line is reputed to have some amazing scenery but I would get a chance to see it on the return journey. The guard was a thoroughly nice chap - he gave me a warm smile and was friendly and chatty to the passengers. The ride quality was pretty decent, on par with the 221 I had been on (if I were blindfolded, and the tilt on the 221 was deactivated, I might have a hard time discriminating between the two, although the distinctive odour of a 221 would be a bit of a giveaway!), and the seats were comfortable with plenty of leg-room.
As the landscape was bathed in darkness, my attention focussed on things happening inside the train. I took the opportunity to study the interior whilst listening to the various conversations taking place. Carly was apparently a teacher and liked travelling by train despite being a car-owner (probably so she can drink lots of wine). A different (younger) guard walked down the aisle, asking for request stops - Carly and her group asked for The Valleys, then the guard asked them to walk down to the rear coach in order to alight. A thought occurred to me: what if I wanted to alight at one of these small request stops, would the guard ask the driver to put the front coach at the platform so I could get my bike off? With Carly and her group gone, there were no more audible conversations to listen to - the loading had thinned-out during the journey. At that point, I started thinking about various threads I had read recently on Railforums, and one particular post kept making me giggle: "it wouldn't be a problem to add tilt to Class 800 sets" (so much so that I had to go to the toilet, not because I needed to go, but rather because I was having difficulty containing my laughter caused by that post). The toilet-room was a good size and had an unusually-large locking handle! In fact, the whole design of the 175 seemed to be quite quirky (in a good way), then I remembered that Alstom is a French company (my dad is an audiophile and is a fan of Musical Fidelity, a French firm that makes some of the most unusual and zany boxes I have ever seen - the French certainly have a distinctive design flair to them!).
After a flawless performance by 175101, I stepped onto the platform and immediately felt a cool breeze - despite the platforms being surrounded by walls and a roof, the cold sea-breeze suggests the station is quite exposed to the elements. Upon entering the ferry terminal, I was somewhat surprised to see so many passengers so late at night! More passengers poured in as I waited for the 02:40 MV Ulysses sailing to Dublin - many of them had to sit on the floor as there was not nearly enough seating. As I was low on water, I availed myself of a bottle and a snack from the handy WHSmith shop within the terminal. Unlike many station shops, their products were reasonably priced and stocked a wide selection of items. I paid £20 for cycle reservations at the Irish Ferries ticket-office, then returned to my seat, only to find some other bugger in it! I moved my bike to the nearest wall and leaned against it for the remainder of the wait. At 01:27, two queues formed in front of the Irish Ferries check-in desk, one much longer than the other - I joined the shortest queue! There were two female staff on duty, and I presented my SailRail tickets, driving licence, and cycle reservation sheet to the younger of the two. She typed my details into the computer, printed a boarding card and then stated that I could not cycle onto the ferry at night as I did not have a hi-vis jacket. As I had not expected this rejection, I had no comeback (besides, her body-language suggested that she had already made-up her mind and therefore any response would be seen as argumentative and futile). As I walked through the customs area, I thought of the perfect comeback: hi-vis jackets are most visible during the day but are not so effective at night, and I had an ultra-bright LED light set on my bike that allowed me to be seen for miles around. Just as I was about to turn back to the check-in desk to explain this to her, I was approached by the bus driver (foot passengers are taken to the ferry by bus), and I explained what I wanted to do. He accepted my arguments, at which point the van driver (luggage is taken to the ferry by van) joined the conversation - he was more than happy to let me cycle to the ferry. I thanked both men profusely for being so accommodating, switched-on my lights, then cycled on down to terminal 3.
The road to the ferry is 1.6 km long and very brightly lit, with two lanes but some occasional narrow sections. At one of the narrow sections, I pulled over to let a HGV pass (the driver honked just after passing me as a 'thank you'), but there wasn't much traffic. I cycled slowly (under 10 km/h) to savour the route. For me, it was the uniqueness of the journey to the ferry that appealed to me: out of the hundreds of passengers that had boarded Ulysses tonight by car, bus, van, HGV etc., I would be the only passenger tonight to board the ferry by bike. As I cycled up the steep ramp onto Ulysses, I could see why there wasn't much traffic: most of the vehicles had already boarded, and deck 5 was chocca with HGVs! A man pointed to the far end (front) of the deck, and upon reaching the front, another man asked me to follow him to the bike area. This area consisted of just 3(!) bike-stands next to an enormous fan that was blowing a gale (to dilute the exhaust fumes, I presume). The stands consisted of horizontal poles designed to grip the front wheel. They were quite rusty and abrasive: I wrapped plastic bags around them in order to prevent them from scraping the black enamel paint on my wheel spokes. Holding the bags in place was quite a job due to the headwind from the fan - if only I had brought some duct tape! Whilst unloading water and valuable items from my panniers, a HGV driver asked me the way to the passenger decks (I pointed him in the appropriate direction). Irony: I had never been aboard this ship, yet I was giving directions! (I had studied the deck plan extensively as part of my trip research months ago).
Coming-up in part 2: the surreal overnight experience aboard Ulysses; making my way to Dublin Heuston station; my first bash on the Irish Rail network.
Part 1: introduction; preparing for the trip; travelling to Holyhead; boarding the ferry
Friday 28 August 2015
Introduction
To make the most of a day out or railtour bash, I usually wake-up at 04:30, quite a bit earlier than on a typical work day. However, on this first travel day to Ireland (my first-ever visit to the Emerald Isle), I awoke at my usual time, as I had booked an overnight ferry cruise from Holyhead. It felt strange not having to rush around to pack things - I had all day to rush around!
My reason for choosing an overnight crossing was due to not wishing to be stranded in Dublin in the event of a cancellation of HSC Jonathan Swift (if I were conveyed on the 14:10 Ulysses service, I would miss the last train to Westport). According to Irish Ferries, 5% of Jonathan Swift sailings are cancelled - the catamaran ferry is quite vulnerable to high winds. By going overnight, I could ensure a reliable connection, and have 1.5 hours to cycle the 8 km to Dublin Heuston station. But why not use Stena Line, I hear you ask. My understanding of Stena Line's loading procedure is that they place bicycles in a van, then drive that van onto the ferry. Apart from the obvious concern of potential damage to my bike, it would rob me of the opportunity to cycle a route that very few people ever do.Preparation
On a visit to Scotland last year, I filled my two large panniers with 6 kilos of stuff that I thought I would need for the trip (I call this the 'kitchen sink' approach) - I just never considered how this extra weight would make cycling harder. Therefore, I set myself the goal of no more than 1.5 kilos of stuff for this trip. Rather than take 3 litres of water, I would take just 0.8 liters and buy the remainder on the way - this left me with a limit of 0.7 kg for everything else. My bike lock weighed 550g, so I purchased a smaller/thinner lock that weighed 100g. My Samsung Galaxy tablet-computer also weighed-in at half a kilo, so that was ditched along with my 970g binoculars (I wanted to be disconnected from the virtual world anyway, and cloudy skies in Scotland meant I didn't even use my stargazing binoculars!). A jumper, pump, sandwiches, deodorant, comb, tissues, vitamin tablets, spare AA batteries etc. all came to 0.7 kg in total. I put the rest of my stuff (camera, purse, mobile etc.) into my coat pockets. Once done, I spent 5 hours watching the extras of the film Insurgent. A few weeks ago, I had considered attending the 100th anniversary of the Ravenglass & Eskdale Railway, which just so happens to start today (I'm not much a fan of kettles but more a fan of miniature railways), however, having pulled overnighters previously, I understood the folly of over-exerting myself on the preceding day: doing as little as possible before the overnighter is key to staying awake and alert on the following day.
The journey
Whenever I leave the house for a trip, I always experience a panicky feeling of wondering whether I have left something behind (not an entirely unjustified feeling as I once forgot my camera - perhaps the most important item to me apart from my travel tickets/documents). This time was different: I had all day to pack and had already gone through this feeling hours before leaving the house. That feeling passes after a few minutes, and then my mind is racked by another anxious feeling: what happens if the TOD doesn't work? Although TOD has never failed me, I still OCD about the 8-digit FasTicket reference, and I often memorise it! On this trip, that feeling was also absent, as I had already collected my SailRail tickets almost 3 months ago (cycle reservations are required for both legs of the journey to Holyhead, so I had to visit Carlisle station anyway to arrange those - I could have used Virgin Trains call centre but I have a hard time understanding strong non-English accents). One anxious feeling that wasn't absent concerned my bicycle: what happens if I have a flat tyre or the chain breaks on the way to the station? In the two years I have owned the bike it has been fault-free, but as I have never owned a bike previously, I didn't know how long the parts would last (the longevity obviously depends on how much you hammer it). As a cautious person, I considered having my bike checked before embarking on such a long journey, but according to my local bike shop, I should bring it in for a check-up after 1,500 km, and as I had only clocked-up 900 km and there were no obvious faults, there was no need for servicing until after my trip (I anticipated putting at least another 400 km on).
I arrived at Carlisle Citadel station with 24 minutes to spare, and took a seat on the wooden benches on platform 4 near the entrance. There were a dozen or so passengers nearby (most of these boarded a TransPennine Express airport service that arrived a few minutes later). The station is probably one of the most interesting on the West Coast Mainline, and I usually arrive early in order to mooch around the various displays and leaflet racks dotted around the concourse, but I was too excited to do anything except sit and wait for 9M61 (17:40 Glasgow Central to Birmingham New Street), usually worked by a 221 set. Loading a bicycle on a train can be a bit of a lottery (where does it stop, which end, which door etc.) but the station layout can play a part in reducing the stress of loading. Yes, Virgin has platform displays that show the expected formation, but these can be incorrect, and I have found to my cost that duff info is worse than no info. At Carlisle, the platforms are wide and deep, allowing one to get a good look at the formation before the set stops - other stations are not as forgiving, regrettably. If the service was being worked by a 390 set, I'd have Virgin staff swarming all over me as soon as I stepped onto the platform, but they are very much 'hands-off' when it comes to 221 sets: they will point you in the right direction, but you are basically left to fend for yourself after that. For this reason, I would have preferred a 390 set, and it so happens there was one 10 minutes earlier than 9M61, but I was unable to get Virgin's journey planner to give it to me (selecting 'extended station dwell times' on WebTIS sites would have worked, I'm sure, but WebTIS does not support SailRail-type tickets).
Right on time, 221113 showed-up at 18:56 with first-class at the front as expected, and I timed it such that as I approached Coach A at the rear, I arrived at the correct door just as the 5-coach set stopped: it was a beautiful bit of station choreography! After placing my bicycle in the horizontal bay, I stepped into Quiet Coach A, seat 44 (the coach was so lightly loaded that I ignored my reserved seat). A woman opposite me was buried in her tablet-computer - it almost seemed like she was teasing me that I didn't have my tablet with me!
But seriously, the view out of the window is all I need to enjoy a bash: no music, no book, no electronic distractions. I chose the left-side of the coach so that I could enjoy the Howgill Fells, arguably one of the best sights along the West Coast Mainline. I didn't see any train crew during the 2-hour journey (not unusual). I enjoyed the Howgills, but did feel a tinge of sadness: whilst the loading varied throughout the journey, it was never more than 15% loaded. The CO2 emissions per passenger km are obviously higher with fewer passengers, but the worst aspect is that there is a perfectly good 25 kV power supply just above the roof for the entire diagram... On approach to Crewe, the tablet woman did something that I see quite frequently on my travels: she started looking through the door windows to determine which side to alight from, long before the platforms were visible! As I had studied the journey on RTT and memorised the platform number, I could have put her out of her misery and pointed to the left-side, but platform allocations can and do change, especially at large stations like Crewe, so I opted not to say anything in case the platform turned out to be different to that given on RTT.As I walked slowly along platform 5, I spied two members of staff staring intensely at me (or rather, at my bicycle). Of course, Virgin Trains staff are trained to check for cycle reservations, but given that I was walking along a platform where a Virgin Trains service had just departed, I found this attention puzzling. In any case, after glancing at the departures screen, I realised that I had to double back in order to use the lifts and bridge. Upon reaching platform 9, I found 175011 idling away. I figured that they were cleaning/preparing the set, and as I had never travelled with Arriva Trains Wales, I didn't want my first ATW experience to be a negative one (at Carlisle, Northern Rail staff have no issues with allowing early birds onboard during prep, but different TOCs have different attitudes). Around 20 minutes later, 175101 arrived behind 175011, and it was 175101 that did the honours in taking me to Holyhead (just as well I didn't board 175011, but as it formed the 22:29 Crewe to Holyhead service, I would have arrived at the ferry terminal only an hour later, and as I had at at least a 2-hour wait, that would have been no great shakes). This would also be my first 175 bash, so I was really chomping at the bit to board!
I found the cycle provision to be excellent: a large area with wheel grips on each end and seat-belt attachments to make securing a bike quick and easy. Whilst sorting out my bike, a young woman asked me whether this train went to The Valleys - I confirmed that it did and that there was no need to tell the driver to stop; the guard will make notes of request stops as he/she walks through (at least that's what I imagined the guard would do, just like on the Cumbrian Coast Line). For ease of reference, I decided to name her Carly, as she looked liked the singer Carly Simon. Moments later, Carly was joined by several other young people, and they drank wine throughout the journey - lots of wine! They were quite noisy but I was so excited to be finally on a journey that I had been contemplating for months that it didn't bother me in the least. Likewise with the lack of a view due to the sun having set an hour ago - this line is reputed to have some amazing scenery but I would get a chance to see it on the return journey. The guard was a thoroughly nice chap - he gave me a warm smile and was friendly and chatty to the passengers. The ride quality was pretty decent, on par with the 221 I had been on (if I were blindfolded, and the tilt on the 221 was deactivated, I might have a hard time discriminating between the two, although the distinctive odour of a 221 would be a bit of a giveaway!), and the seats were comfortable with plenty of leg-room.
As the landscape was bathed in darkness, my attention focussed on things happening inside the train. I took the opportunity to study the interior whilst listening to the various conversations taking place. Carly was apparently a teacher and liked travelling by train despite being a car-owner (probably so she can drink lots of wine). A different (younger) guard walked down the aisle, asking for request stops - Carly and her group asked for The Valleys, then the guard asked them to walk down to the rear coach in order to alight. A thought occurred to me: what if I wanted to alight at one of these small request stops, would the guard ask the driver to put the front coach at the platform so I could get my bike off? With Carly and her group gone, there were no more audible conversations to listen to - the loading had thinned-out during the journey. At that point, I started thinking about various threads I had read recently on Railforums, and one particular post kept making me giggle: "it wouldn't be a problem to add tilt to Class 800 sets" (so much so that I had to go to the toilet, not because I needed to go, but rather because I was having difficulty containing my laughter caused by that post). The toilet-room was a good size and had an unusually-large locking handle! In fact, the whole design of the 175 seemed to be quite quirky (in a good way), then I remembered that Alstom is a French company (my dad is an audiophile and is a fan of Musical Fidelity, a French firm that makes some of the most unusual and zany boxes I have ever seen - the French certainly have a distinctive design flair to them!).
After a flawless performance by 175101, I stepped onto the platform and immediately felt a cool breeze - despite the platforms being surrounded by walls and a roof, the cold sea-breeze suggests the station is quite exposed to the elements. Upon entering the ferry terminal, I was somewhat surprised to see so many passengers so late at night! More passengers poured in as I waited for the 02:40 MV Ulysses sailing to Dublin - many of them had to sit on the floor as there was not nearly enough seating. As I was low on water, I availed myself of a bottle and a snack from the handy WHSmith shop within the terminal. Unlike many station shops, their products were reasonably priced and stocked a wide selection of items. I paid £20 for cycle reservations at the Irish Ferries ticket-office, then returned to my seat, only to find some other bugger in it! I moved my bike to the nearest wall and leaned against it for the remainder of the wait. At 01:27, two queues formed in front of the Irish Ferries check-in desk, one much longer than the other - I joined the shortest queue! There were two female staff on duty, and I presented my SailRail tickets, driving licence, and cycle reservation sheet to the younger of the two. She typed my details into the computer, printed a boarding card and then stated that I could not cycle onto the ferry at night as I did not have a hi-vis jacket. As I had not expected this rejection, I had no comeback (besides, her body-language suggested that she had already made-up her mind and therefore any response would be seen as argumentative and futile). As I walked through the customs area, I thought of the perfect comeback: hi-vis jackets are most visible during the day but are not so effective at night, and I had an ultra-bright LED light set on my bike that allowed me to be seen for miles around. Just as I was about to turn back to the check-in desk to explain this to her, I was approached by the bus driver (foot passengers are taken to the ferry by bus), and I explained what I wanted to do. He accepted my arguments, at which point the van driver (luggage is taken to the ferry by van) joined the conversation - he was more than happy to let me cycle to the ferry. I thanked both men profusely for being so accommodating, switched-on my lights, then cycled on down to terminal 3.
The road to the ferry is 1.6 km long and very brightly lit, with two lanes but some occasional narrow sections. At one of the narrow sections, I pulled over to let a HGV pass (the driver honked just after passing me as a 'thank you'), but there wasn't much traffic. I cycled slowly (under 10 km/h) to savour the route. For me, it was the uniqueness of the journey to the ferry that appealed to me: out of the hundreds of passengers that had boarded Ulysses tonight by car, bus, van, HGV etc., I would be the only passenger tonight to board the ferry by bike. As I cycled up the steep ramp onto Ulysses, I could see why there wasn't much traffic: most of the vehicles had already boarded, and deck 5 was chocca with HGVs! A man pointed to the far end (front) of the deck, and upon reaching the front, another man asked me to follow him to the bike area. This area consisted of just 3(!) bike-stands next to an enormous fan that was blowing a gale (to dilute the exhaust fumes, I presume). The stands consisted of horizontal poles designed to grip the front wheel. They were quite rusty and abrasive: I wrapped plastic bags around them in order to prevent them from scraping the black enamel paint on my wheel spokes. Holding the bags in place was quite a job due to the headwind from the fan - if only I had brought some duct tape!
Whilst unloading water and valuable items from my panniers, a HGV driver asked me the way to the passenger decks (I pointed him in the appropriate direction). Irony: I had never been aboard this ship, yet I was giving directions! (I had studied the deck plan extensively as part of my trip research months ago). Coming-up in part 2: the surreal overnight experience aboard Ulysses; making my way to Dublin Heuston station; my first bash on the Irish Rail network.
hock: