Day 4 started out pretty rough. Exhausted, shaking, suffering from having eaten something I shouldn’t have, and extremely lonely, I reluctantly packed up to leave. I was, however, ever optimistic that things would get better.

Straight away I found a gas station; clearly a sign of a great day ahead. Walking back to  my bike after paying, I slipped in a greasy spill. I’m assuming it was diesel as Paul of Celtic Rider warned me to be wary of diesel spills and how they can really coat your tires. Well I recovered valiantly and did NOT end up on my arse, but my flat soled shoes were pretty slick. I hopped on the bike without giving it another thought and off I went.

And then I missed a turn. Again. Gretta (I’ve decided naming her makes it easier to shout expletives at her) is heartless in her silence. Ok so it’s not the end of the world. It’s not like I’ve never done this before. But this time the only place to turn around for miles was a small driveway. On an incline. And my shoes are slick. If you’re a biker, you know what’s coming next.

I stalled because I was trying to maneuver the bike to turn around and when I put my foot down, well we all went ass over teakettle; me, the bike, and Gretta. Thankfully I wasn’t moving when it happened, or things could have been much worse! My first reaction was to leap into action and lift the bike back up. As full of adrenaline as I was, I figured it would be a snap. Yeah. No. Not. Nadda. Slippery shoes and now a dusty ass to boot.

I was right in front of a fancy stone gate post with a buzzer, so I buzzed to see if I could get a hand with my bike. No answer. All I could do was wait. Sooner or later someone had to come down that road and I’d flag them down and get a hand with my bike. Within minutes two cars did stop so my bike was up and pointed in the right direction ready to go.

But I wasn’t.

After they drove off I sat down to collect my wits, and wait for the excess adrenaline to ease up. And then the tears started. I was so damned lonesome! If only I’d had a friend, then we could laugh about the whole incident. No sooner had this thought formed when from out of nowhere a puppy leaped into my lap and licked the tears from my face. I shit you not I am NOT making this up. He was gorgeous and ready for love; giving and taking. I laughed, I cuddled and he licked away my self-pity.

The drive thereafter was fantastic, no more feeling poorly, no more upset. Just me and Ireland.