Róisín Ingleis forced to abandon (several times) an attempt to cycle along Dublin's quays during rush hour
It's rush hour on Tuesday morning when I remember why this cyclist tends to avoid Dublin's quays. I'm pedalling towards the city centre when I find myself almost being squeezed off the road by a spluttering HGV (Heavy Goods Vehicle). The lorry driver, stopped at traffic lights, revs the engine, making his five-axle presence felt. I take this as a warning and hop up on to the path, because even though there is no cycle lane, the path is easily wide enough to accommodate both cyclists and pedestrians. As much as I love my job, I value my life even more.
Back at the Point Depot, the round trip to Heuston Station began more promisingly. The cycle lane here is smooth and there's plenty of time to gaze over at the newly completed and impressively shiny office buildings on the other side of the Liffey. Passing the Sean O'Casey footbridge to my left, the cycle lane disappears and it's time for that hairy game of dodge-the-articulated-lorry. It's a relief to turn left on to the Matt Talbot Bridge, where a cycle lane swings on to Burgh Quay.
Past O'Connell Bridge on the south side of the quays there are bus lanes most of the way to Heuston, but it's still a tight squeeze when a bus goes past. Then there are the points where the bus lane suddenly disappears and cars, buses and motorbikes vie for space. Only the bravest cyclists join this fray.
The prospect of pinch-points such as this one are enough to put you off the quays. From the Point Depot to Heuston Station I have to get off the bike at least five times to avoid being squashed. By the time I approach the train station the cars are speeding up dangerously, with the result that turning right on to the bridge while dodging them proves impossible. The speed limit in most parts of the city centre is 30mph but apart from when they are stuck in traffic - a lot of the time, in fairness - few motorists seem to stick to it, viewing any lull in congestion as an excuse to accelerate. They zoom up the road safe in the knowledge that there are no pesky speed cameras around.
There's no time to wonder about the wisdom of this lack of speed monitoring. Most accidents involving cyclists in Dublin happen at junctions exactly like this one, so, not wanting to become another statistic, I get off the bike (again) and cross the road over to Wolfe Tone Quay.
Things look up, but only briefly, on the North Quays outside the Four Courts, when the cycle lane appears. This soon morphs into a cycle lane with a bus lane attached. Then a coach parks in the cycle lane to let off some passengers and, not wanting to risk squeezing between cars and the coach, I dismount again and wheel the bike along the path. The cycle lane has disappeared now, followed soon by the bus lane. The lack of consistency is nerve-wracking, as is the nagging feeling that you are just one false move away from becoming human roadkill.
Crossing O'Connell Bridge, the worst of the journey is behind me, even if I still have to dodge the gobbing of two male cyclists as they overtake me. Charming. It's cycle lanes all the way from here, and pedalling gently along the tree-lined City Quay is a pleasure. This is one of the few times I've felt completely safe on the 40-minute journey. It's also the first hint of what the city might be like if public transport and bicycles instead of cars and lorries were given the run of the city centre. We can only dream.