OPINION (AN COLÚN): Birr man's masterpiece gives invaluable insights into early 20th century Ireland

THE woman wasn't at the counter of her shop because she was in the kitchen. “She was a solidly-constructed matron of middle age, and it turned the cold wind into summer zephyrs to look at her round, smooth, good-natured countenance.” In the kitchen “she was surrounded by three or four gossips, and they were having a very interesting talk.”
The touring cyclist waits patiently in the shop in Ballintra, Donegal, for a few minutes, to be served. Eventually they spot him and the woman comes to the counter. He asks for a number of different drinks. She has none of them in stock. She is good-humoured, sympathetic and the conversation turns flirtatious. She says it's such a pity he could find nothing more useful to do with his strength than to waste it riding around the country on a bicycle. “An' such a pity to think on ye wastin' yer strength over the bicycle. Couldn't they find somethin' more useful for ye to do?” The cyclist replies that that somethin' might be finding a woman and settling down. He wonders if there is any such woman in Ballintra? “ 'Well,' she said, putting her elbows on the counter and throwing down her eyes, 'I'll tell ye the trewth. If he were a bashful sort I wouldn't mind putten in a word for him, but if he were a supple-tongued lad like yersel' I'd have to think over it.” The conversation runs on for a little while longer in this playful, flirtatious manner. Finally, he pays for his bottle of stout and takes his leave, saying on the way out, “Farewell, O Comely Matron of Donegal who is able to take care of herself.” She replies: “God speed all bikers, and give them sense.”
The cyclist is William Bulfin and this charming interchange between himself and the shop owner is just one of many marvellous scenes in his book “Rambles in Eireann” where the reader, like a time traveller, is brought right into the heart of things in early 20th Century Ireland, where the conversation feels very authentic, and the people seem genuine, real. The book is an invaluable insight into Irish life of the time, a fascinating and beautifully written travelogue.
The conversation in the Ballintra shop took place in 1902 when Bulfin was on a seven month cycling tour of Ireland. In 1902 cycling was still frowned upon by some, but their number was rapidly dwindling. In the 1870s and 1880s considerably more people frowned upon cycling, with some even worrying that it would lead to a deterioration in the moral behaviour of women. During the 1860s and 1870s early pedal-driven bicycles, known as “boneshakers”, were difficult and uncomfortable to ride on poor quality roads. Those who rode them were often considered eccentric due to the physical discomfort and the novelty of the machine. In the 1870s to 1880s riders of the Penny Farthing were seen as a daring, elite group, often risking injury by being pitched over the handlebars on uneven terrain. By 1902 tour cycling had become popular and much less to be wondered at. The safety bicycle, with its pneumatic tyres and affordable, mass-produced pricing, had revolutionised personal mobility for all.
Some remained unconvinced. In 1895 a motion was proposed at a meeting of Irish bishops that the growing popularity of cycling amongst Curates (who were cycling safety bicycles) was something to be frowned upon because it was considered undignified.
The majority disagreed with the Bishops. The introduction of the safety bicycle changed negative perceptions. In the mid 1890s the safety bicycle became much more affordable and cycling's popularity grew and grew.
Bulfin was born in 1864, the fourth son in a family of nine boys and one girl, in Derrinlough Birr. He emigrated to Argentina in 1884, along with his brother Peter. They landed in Buenos Aires and moved on out to the Pampas. The Pampas are vast, fertile plains stretching across central Argentina, Uruguay and southern Brazil. They worked as Gauchos (horsemen and livestock herders). He met his future wife while working on the ranch of an Irish landowner. After a few years he moved to Buenos Aires where he worked as a journalist in the weekly newspaper The Southern Cross.
When Bulfin cycled across Ireland in 1902 he was often imbued with a sense of the sacred emanating from the landscape around him. He especially loved the Midlands and North Munster. He often writes with the sensibility of a pilgrim.
At the outset of his tour, on a train journey from Dublin to Birr, he shows his deep love of Ireland and his fascination with its history: “...and on and on, through valleys that had re-echoed to the hoof-thunder of the riders of O'Connor of Offally, in the olden days. On still, to brave old Dunamase, and down and through the hills where O'Moore drew steel upon the Saxon; past Maryborough, called after the Tudor wife of Spanish Philip; through northern Ossory, where there were the duns of the MacCashins and the castles of the Fitzpatricks; and then, over a bend of the Slieve Blooms, into ferny hollows below Knockshigowna of the fairies, and down through the woods of Sharavogue into the chieftainry of Ely O'Carroll. Beautiful and ever beautiful. And, above all, it was Ireland - the homeland at last...Other lands look lovelier from far away. But Ireland never is so beautiful as when the eye rests upon her face. You need never be afraid that you are flattering her while painting her from even your fondest memory.”

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