Getting on and off the ferry was a bit of a faff. there was another cyclist and we were told we had to put our bikes on a trailer which would be towed onto the ferry and then we would get them brought to us when we docked at Belfast. The human foot passengers had to get on a bus and be transported onto and off the ferry.

I got myself breakfast on the boat in the hope of a quick getaway in Belfast but the logistics imposed on us meant I only got going around an hour after we had docked.

I will give Komoot five stars for the route out of Belfast towards Portadown. Segregated cycle lanes, the path along the Lagan canal and more cycle network made the ride in the early morning sunshine a delight.

Even when away from purpose built cycle paths the route took quiet backroads and despite the warning I had been given the drivers were mostly considerate and safe!

Passing through places like Long Kesh, Armagh, Omagh, Enniskillen tripped memories of more troubled times. Yet I could not determine where the border was. I criss crossed it several times on my ride yet the only way I knew I was in the south was because the road signs change to kilometres and there were political posters hung up for elections. I did have a very embarrassing moment when I stopped to buy some food and the woman said “that will be five ninety”. Asked if that was euros and she replied indignantly “sterling”. I had to ask where I was. “Fermanagh” came the terse reply…..

For that sin I was then rained on very heavily for an hour.

Pushing on despite the deluge it eventually dried out and the sun came out. The hills were mostly backloaded on the route but I thought I was making reasonable time and might make dinner by 8:30pm. Komoot had other ideas. It decided to throw in a little off road section which went uphill and over a very rough track.

Having made it across this ‘parkour’ I had just one more climb to do and then I arrived.

The boys had explained the situation and the hotel had held back a three course meal for me. Showered and changed I sat down to a pint of Guinness and more chicken and mash than one person could possibly eat even if they had ridden over 200km.

There is a great book by Flann O’Brien called the Third Policeman. In it someone commits a murder. However, because they have ridden a bike for decades it is determined that molecular exchange has taken place and he is now more of the bike and the bike more of him so they hang the bike for the crime. Why am I telling you this? Because it explains why long distance cyclists like to have their bike in their hotel room – it is part of them!