‘You’ve had some pretty crazy ideas in your life, Newby, but this is the craziest.’ Grandmother Wanda Newby was exasperated after continuous rain, snow, and gales that knocked from her bike.
Twice. To avoid other tourists, Eric Newby had decided that the depths of winter would be the very best time to explore Ireland by mountain bike.
More astonishing still, he managed to persuade Wanda, his long-suffering wife and life-long co-traveller, to accompany him – mainly, she admitted, to ‘keep him out of trouble’.
Lashed by winter storms, fuelled by Guinness and warmed by thermal underwear, their panniers laden with antique books on Ireland, the elderly adventurers cycle the highways and byways, encountering hospitable locals, swaying saints and ferocious dogs. From the shores of Donegal to the holy mountains, Newby guides the reader on a tale of mishap and magic, all in his own peculiar style of humour and charm, relishing his never-ending curiosity of the world and his insatiable quest for adventure.