Everyone who lives up the mountains knows the cycling season doesn’t officially begin until the clocks spring forward, and as if one cue on Tuesday morning the road to Glencree lined in parts by late blooming daffodils rose to greet us with that first gorse-scented air of the earth reawakening at last and our spirits soaring to match.
It honestly felt unseasonably warm dressed only in jersey and shorts the width of one-ply toilet tissue, and caught perfectly between the gentle headwind and slight tailwind we made plans to ride all the way to the Shay Elliott memorial stone this weekend, our own littl …
- April 2, 2022
