Day 13 - Dublin to Laragh - projected distance 30 miles.

A shorter day on the road today, so we had the luxury of a modest lie-in. I then set off for a late breakfast with my old friend Conor McCarthy who has an office overlooking the River Liffey in the centre of Dublin. Fortunately he had warned his assistant that I would be turning up in full lycra. After a vegetarian breakfast (I don't think I can stomach any more undercooked bacon or limp sausages) I looped around the back of Conor's offices and out of Dublin through the suburb of Ranelagh and on towards Dundrum.

Along the R117 I came to the attractive little village of Enniskerry, which seemed to be well populated with upmarket boutiques and a boulangerie to boot. I struggled up the steep hill out of the village trying to figure out how this village could support this pocket of extravagance. The answer arrived a few hundred yards later. Powerscourt House is a massive draw for genteel tourists who come to see its majestic gardens, often said to be the finest in Ireland. The site also hosts the super-opulent Ritz-Carlton Hotel - just a little over our budget for this trip.

Just as I passed the gates, Sarah called me to say she was about to leave Powerscourt House en route to the Powerscourt Waterfall, a few miles up the road. I joined the family for an impromptu picnic in the sunshine, enjoying the background sound from Ireland's highest waterfall. It was good to relax for an hour, particularly as the road turned steeply higher as soon as I left to climb further into the Wicklow Mountains. A 12% ascent took me up to 1070 feet and on the road past Great Sugar Loaf Mountain with its granite cone. I enjoyed the views and the lovely colours of the yellow gorse and purple heathers as the road dropped back down to Laragh.

Our family expedition this evening was a short one, to the next village of Glendalough, renowned for its ruined monastery originally established by St Kevin in the 6th century. We gazed up at the round tower and wandered around the graveyard in the evening sunshine. It's been a fine day, marred only marginally by a truly dreadful pub meal in Ireland's highest village, Roundwood. It may be 780 feet above sea level, but the local cuisine isn't hitting any heights.