It was my first trip overseas in 1994, back to my homeland of Ireland where I was born but I was brought up in Australia. Ireland, the mystic place of fairies, poets, and ancient heroes... And the supernatural.
I stayed with my sister in West Cork in a lovely little stone cottage with a stunning view of pine covered forest and green, green emerald fields... Just briefly, it is true that there five different shades of green in Ireland, thought I just tell you that...anyway, after a few weeks of staying with my sister and her family, I decided it was time I buggered off on a bike trip around Ireland.
Now, before I drivel on, I want to tell you that this is not really a ghost story but a...fairy tale, a strange fairy tale that happened to me...anyway, there I was cycling along the coast, spend a few nights here and there when finally I had enough of the coast. I had my trusty map out and figured that it was be quicker for me to cycle over the mountains to get to Dingle, which is on the coast. I remember there was an old church on the crossroad and so I took the left hand (I think) road and found a small garage.
"Great," I thought, "I need a can of coke and a mars bar" So in I went and I was served by a little old lady. She asked me where I was going and I told her Dingle. Then, she said, you'll be happier going by the coast. No, I said, I want to go through the mountains. By this stage the whole bloody clan including the dog and the cat was out telling me Don't go through the mountains, go by the coast. Why? I shouted. No reason, just go by the coast! By this stage I had enough, and paid for my mars bar and coke and stormed out. Maybe I should have listened to them.
I cycled up this bloody great hill and found a lovely spot so I can take a piccy of my bike and the view behind the bike. I'm out in the middle of nowhere, mind you, just me and the wild forest. I steadied the bike on a rock and stepped back when... The bike was moved. Yes, wheeled as if someone just picked it up and wheeled it then it fell.
I blinked and walked over, picked the bike up, leaned against the blasted rock again and it did it again. This time I was very puzzled and checked if the ground was rough. Nope, smoother than a baby's backside. Then I shook my head, took the photo and was pushing the bike up the hill when I heard behind me, and I'm serious here, childish giggling.
First I thought oh wow Kookaburras... Hang on, I'm in Ireland and there's no Kookaburras here... I never ran so fast in my life, the bike was actually cycling me. I found out later where I was... A place called The Gateway to Tir Na Nog-Fairyland...believe what you want but that's what really happened to yours truly.