Having completed this trip, I’m still somewhat baffled as to what on earth I was thinking… maybe it was the prospect of receiving my pension or perhaps it was reading, over 20 years ago, the hilarious account of Tony Hawks finding his way round Ireland with a fridge for company. Whatever the reason, the concept was to cycle the island of Ireland unsupported, dragging, not white goods, but a loaded golf trolley over 1,700 miles and up the equivalent of two and a half Everests, while playing a dozen of the most challenging courses from the extraordinary roster that the island has to offer.
This venture was an attempt to combine three personal passions: long-distance cycling, links golf and hanging out with interesting people in pubs. I was expecting challenging conditions, my share of dark moments, more than my share of dark pints and the opportunity to test the legendary Irish hospitality to the full. I also realised it was a great chance to raise cash for Maggie’s (a cancer care charity opening a new centre in my area) and to demonstrate that you don’t need to drive to your local course, encouraging players and clubs to become more bike-friendly. Most golf clubs have lockers and the vast majority of journeys from home to course are short, yet bike storage facilities still seem virtually non-existent.
In some ways, the planning was easy. Just land in Dublin, turn south and keep the coast on my left shoulder – simplicity itself! In other ways, it was a logistical nightmare. Lining up the golf courses had to be done in advance as these popular clubs are fully booked and I was asking them to waive fees and provide local club members to host me. I had committed to be at 12 places around Ireland at specific dates and times, so there was no wiggle room for potential disasters... of which there were many. I felt fortunate to have sourced a customised road-worthy pull-along golf trolley but was pretty sure the designers hadn’t had this kind of trip in mind.
But I do like a challenge and so, in beautiful weather, I boarded the Dublin ferry to discover if it could be done or whether I was just another ‘eejit’ with a pipe dream!
Settling into a rhythm
Having fought the Dublin rush-hour traffic via mostly brilliant bike lanes that were just too narrow for a golf trolley, I was relieved to make it to my first overnight stop in Bray, a coastal town around midway between Dublin and the Wicklow Mountains. The following day I discovered just how hard to is to play golf on a fiendishly difficult course, having cycled 50 miles with clubs in tow to reach the 1st tee of the European Club.
I still don’t know why cycling and an effective golf swing are so incompatible, but the immediate note-to-self was to get to the courses very early to sort the swing out before hitting the first shot in anger. The other lesson learned was how generous and good-hearted my Irish hosts would prove to be throughout. The Ruddys, who own the course, could not have been more welcoming and this was a pattern replicated throughout the trip’s 47 days and 11 other clubs.
Around 25% of the money I raised for Maggie’s was given to me, sometimes literally ‘on the road’, and I lost count of the times someone gave me a donation in a locker room or bar. One hotelier, Michael Vaughan of the fabulous Vaughan Lodge hotel in Lahinch, refunded my entire bill so I could add it to the charity. The same chap drove an hour to return my bike lock key, which I’d dropped in his bike shed earlier that morning. None of the courses charged me green fees, which helped make this adventure financially possible.
At The European Club, Pat Ruddy Snr gave me two pieces of advice: 1) if you lay up, lay right up; and 2) if you’re driving your car on your golf course with three American journalists crammed in, (it is his course) always follow the direction of the hole to avoid dropping vertically into a bunker! The European Club is picture-perfect, with an intriguing 20 holes and one green that is 120 yards long.
The pattern was established: cycle around 100km on a non-golf day, keeping the sea on the left; on a golfing day, minimise the cycling to under 50km to ensure I could actually hit the ball on the 1st tee.
Lessons still had to be learned about cycling with golf trolley in tow. For instance, if you just avoid a central speed bump, as I did hurtling down a hill into Waterford, you and the bike miss the bump but the trolley doesn’t, so you end up dragging an upside-down golf trolley down the road, desperately trying to stay upright. And slight inclines that I would hardly register at home on my road bike, become significant mountains with this much weight to haul (40kg for trolley and clubs). Brakes don’t tend to be as efficient and, three sets of brake blocks later, I was left pining for the disc brakes that weren’t widely available when I bought my bike some 20 years ago.
The Wild Atlantic Way
My second course was over 700km away, the absolutely gorgeous Tralee. It took 12 days of hard riding around the various peninsulas to get there but it was worth every push of the pedal. Designed by Arnold Palmer, it is probably the most picturesque course I’ve ever played, with water and dunes in your sightlines at all times.
I had lined up Ballybunion as my third course for the following day, but my club member host belatedly realised the links was closed for a competition so we needed to tee off early that same afternoon instead. The weather could only be described as biblical, with horizontal rain lashing us and waves pummelling the cliffs on which the closing stretch sits. My host, Kevin, is owner of the superb Cliff House Hotel so not only did he host the golf, but he also fed me and put me up for the night. It was a truly great experience, but I wouldn’t recommend attempting Tralee and Ballybunion on the same day, especially not in storm-force conditions.
I became well-acquainted with the Wild Atlantic Way, which stretches all along Ireland’s west coast up to Donegal in the north. After 11 glorious sunny days, this wild way ushered in the anticipated equally wild weather and, for much of the rest of the trip, I battled 30mph winds (60mph gusts) and more than my fair share of dampness. There were frustrations along the way as I cycled past courses I’d have loved to play.
The likes of Waterville, Lahinch, County Sligo, Cruit Island and Portmarnock will be high on the list next time. Once I reached Mayo, the courses came thick and fast. Remote and lovely Carne, a social enterprise rather than a members’ or privately owned club, was followed by Enniscrone where I was hosted by Gerry, the club captain. You get the picture about hospitality in these parts! Next up was Portsalon, a fine links that’s somewhat off the tour-operator radar but well worth a visit. It was at this point that I abandoned decoupling the golf trolley from the bike to use – in a four-club wind, it simply wouldn’t stay upright – and every club then provided a free trolley, which worked way better.
Golfing treats in the north
Ballyliffin Glashedy (also designed by Ruddy Snr) was an absolute treat and it was here that I first met Stuart MacDonnell, who was to host me in Northern Ireland. A Portstewart Golf Club stalwart, Stuart put me up in his ‘wee house’ and arranged my golf with various mates who were members of some wonderful courses. Castlerock was followed by Portstewart ahead of Royal Portrush and then finally, the inestimable Royal County Down, where I was lucky to stay in the very grand and recently refurbished Slieve Donard Hotel, a mere wedge from the links.
This is golfing heaven, pure and simple. Portrush, which hosts The Open again in 2025, gets my vote for the toughest rough (known locally as the ‘munchies’) and County Down as the finest place to be alive with a set of golf clubs. Special mention, too, to the crew at Portstewart who were unbelievably welcoming and hosted a quiz night while I was there in aid of my charity. The final chapter involved a long ride back into Ireland via Belfast and the extraordinarily beautiful Antrim coast, with my last round at Royal Dublin providing a splendid denouement.
I arrived back in Dublin docks after 47 days and, reflecting now, it seems almost surreal. Back in the UK, I really missed the routine that long-distance cycling provided, the focus on what’s happening in the moment and the inevitable fitness benefits that meant I could drink as many pints of Guinness as I liked! Then there’s those extraordinary courses, a couple of which, I’m delighted to report, had excellent bike facilities.
The two phrases I heard most often in Ireland when explaining my mission were ‘you’re completely mad’, quickly followed by ‘but fair play to yer’. Well, fair play to the island of Ireland – you were a complete delight!
To find out how Maggie’s supports those affected by cancer or to make a donation, visit maggies.enthuse.com/pf/nic-armitage
