Belfast to Dungannon 90km

Its 7.30 am. Lying in bed. Sun is shining outside. All looks good. Im to sure how cold it is and it looks a bit breezy.
Legs are talking to me. Not in any angry way. But just enough for them to let me know "you need me"!
Eileen is cooking me a breakfast to see me through the day. As only a caring sister would. Im in a comfortable bed. Subliminal messages are telling me 'you could stay here you know!' But can't succumb to that.
After breakfast Eileen takes me back to Hazelwood for the start of our next journey.

Belfast begins to look menacing after a nice bright early beginning. Arriving at the school in Hazelwood,the forecast of rain later becomes rain now. Leaving the school in a strong wind. Its difficult to judge what direction it is coming from and how it will affect our trip. Will it assist us or is it against.

Christy, from Dungannon who sports a strong Belfast accent,  who normally drives our day bag lorry but is cycling with us this year, wearing a long flowing orange wig, remarks that ‘if you cant see the Black Mountain, in Belfast, its raining. And if you can see it, its going to rain’ Sounds a bit of truth in that.

Leaving from Hazelwood to the cheers of the pupils and teachers,  making lefts and rights and around the various roundabouts to get onto our route, it becomes clear that we will have a side on wind for our journey.

Rain is light and spirits are high as we course down the Shore Road and through the city center. We don’t leave Belfast quietly!

Lisburn soon appears and after a quick water stop we are on our way to Lurgan and on towards Dungannon.

Im feeling reasonably good but must remember to lather on the Savlon at night.

Pace is brisk on this flat route but battling with the side wind that can swirl uncontrollably is  draining. The rain that has been light to nothing all day, begings to get heavier and as we arrive on the outskirts of Dungannon it is now heavy. The last few kms into town are a series of quite steep rises which are draining the last of the energy from my legs. The church spire, were we appear to be heading owards is high on top of the city and knowing we are probably heading ther is further draining.

The pink shirted marshals are beginning to get on my nerves. Some of them think they are S.S Officers once they don the pink. Roarin and shoutin , calling out every blemish and turn on the road. Think we are all stupid and can't see that 'turning right' is kinda obvious when everyone else is! And so on!

But we get there and is great to stow the bags and head for dry cover, a cup of tea, a bit of music and a search for my homestay.

Brian soon arrives and is collecting Me and Mags. Mags is a lovely girl from Belfast who I have seen on the road but not spoken to before. Soon we are speeding off to the Moy. To a beautiful, intriguing house. With loads of interesting features. including Dining room and kitchen upstairs and bedrooms downstairs. Beautiful comfortable house.

Mary is a cyclist and we have a great , relaxed evening with Brian chatting about all sorts over a few beers.
Mags is a lovely young woman who, I found out we came from opposite sides of the Peace Line in West Belfast. Im amazed that altho we are generations apart and in my day there was never a forum where we could meet and befriend nor would we have wanted or been allowed to mix. Nevertheless  we had so much in common with each other. For me that is a tremendous revelation. On reflection she is the first person in my long life who I have befriended from just two streets away in my home town.
 So comfortable was our night that we sat up till 12.30 am before we drift off to bed to rest for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a short day from Dungannon to Omagh. 70km