DAY 12c
THE SALLY GAP (County Wicklow, IRL)
Tuesday September 9th, 2008
TODAYS MILEAGE – 48 miles or 77 kilometres
TRIP MILEAGE – 12140 miles or 19573 kilometres
A further 8 mile (13 kilometre) drive from Roundwood is the spectacular Sally Gap area of Wicklow and as you can see from the photos, we were dodging bad weather all the way, which made photography a nightmare.
For some unknown reason, I’d decided to dress in the traditional Aussie hiking gear of track suit pants and a pair of thongs, which in the end, turned out to be both a blessing and a curse.
You can’t see it in the photos, but the green, lush, rolling hills look solid under foot, but when you walk on it, you sink down a couple of inches and are up to your ankles in water, even though you can’t see any visable water through the thick highlands grass and peat.
No dramas with thongs and tracky daks, just roll up the legs and go get the photo I reckon. The water was a bit on the frigid side, which wasn’t an issue, but the thousands of what looked like mozzie bites on my lower legs and feet took some getting used to.
On the way round, our pilot Marie, managed to hit some “clear air turbulence” which saw Jungle lifted off his seat and smash his head into the roof of the vehicle. Not to say the pilot was at fault, as obviously Marie’s vast experience in negotiating hot landing zones under enemy fire prevented any combat casualties. Rather it might have been the navigators (Roscoe) fault for not ensuring the flight path was clear or the fact that he had flown previously with his Commander In Chief preventing him commenting.
Now Jungle being the good bloke and all that he is, ain’t the sharpest when it comes to physics, inertia and mass in motion, which you’d expect from mechanical fitter. He was having a crack about me not hitting the roof with him, something to do with weight and size I feel??? How is it my fault that I’m gravitationally gifted???
Coming down the hill from Sally Pass, we happened across several sheep crossing the road. Jungle, knowing full well of Roscoe’s New Zealand birth, heritage and the Kiwi's “animal husbandry” prowess, defused a potential international incident by reaching from the back seat, gently patting Roscoe on the shoulder and uttering these soothing and calming words ...... “eeeaaassyyy Roscoe, steady tiger, eeeaaassyyy mate - they’re for the locals”.
