Catherine Drea: Full tilt and the new bridge

“Are you the Dervla who is cycling to India?” Dervla doesn’t bat an eyelid as a strange man tells her of her growing fame across Afghanistan and Iran. 

Within minutes she is offered accommodation, food and friendship in a journey that is peppered with hospitality and friendship, no matter where she and her trusty bike Roz go. 

If you have never read 'Full Tilt', Dervla Murphy’s first book of 26, and a diary of that phenomenal journey from Waterford to India, I strongly advise you to do so.

It was in January 1963, when Dervla Murphy set out during the harshest winter for 8o years. 

At the same time that year, my little sister and I donned our wellies and went skating on the local pond which had frozen solid due to the low temperatures. 

While we fantasised about the magic of snow, Dervla set out on her great adventure with a loaded pistol and a compass in her pocket.

Having read this wonderful book as a teenager, I am back reading it again and every page is blowing my mind. 

It’s not just the beautiful writing or her astounding adventure, nor is it the courage or the madness of this sheltered Waterford woman undertaking such a journey, it is simply the incongruous vision of this lone figure, Dervla, tackling the unknown on her own terms.

'Cycling day after day beneath a sky of intense blue, through wild mountains whose solitude and beauty surpassed anything I had been able to imagine during my day-dreams about this journey…..'

I recently got a bit closer to the new bridge and was reminded yet again that whenever I write about the naming of the bridge, Dervla Murphy’s name always crops up. 

There are other names mentioned too, Dr. Strangman, the Cocklewomen, the Daly sisters, but as I stood there meditating on the symbolism of crossing a bridge, I thought of Dervla Murphy’s legacy in a new light.

There is something apt about this young woman in the Ireland of that time cycling away from all the confinement of her small life to a wider vision of expansive freedom, colour and true knowledge of the world. 

If that bridge stands for anything, it is about a new future, a route to an unknown and more expansive future.

Standing there at the Clock Tower looking across the new bridge felt disorientating. 

I so wanted to cross it; to view the river from there, to look back at the City beyond the Quay and to explore the new territory of the North Side. 

The child in me was enchanted by where all of this might lead. 

It’s so much bigger than I had imagined and it looks like it will be beautiful.

It was as a child that Dervla too dreamed of cycling to India because of a Christmas present of a bicycle and an Atlas. 

Looking at her new atlas she imagined that if she just kept cycling her bike and didn’t stop until she got there, she would inevitably get to India.

It was only after the deaths of both her parents, the only impediment to her escape, that she finally set out. 

Even now with all the support in the world, very few women would attempt such a thing. 

But Dervla hated being called brave, and opted instead for the word fearless to describe herself. 

A very different thing. 

Must have come in handy when she had to use her gun to scare off predatory males!

Having read 'Full Tilt' during the 1970s, I made a number of long journeys thumbing or hitch-hiking across Europe. 

I know many of my generation did the same thing. 

We balked at crossing Afghanistan in those days due to some current coup. 

Meeting weary hippies on their return from India, all of them seemed slightly traumatised by the crossing of that route.

I’m sure Dervla wouldn’t even have blinked!

Being immersed in a very different culture can be overwhelming. 

Lacking knowledge of language, history and customs can make you feel all at sea. 

I remember for example being covered in mud by groups of local women in rural Turkey because my skin was too white and scary, or having an entire community watch and wait while I ate the precious eyes of some sea creature they had served up. 

So many situations caused me to wobble.

But for Dervla breaking a rib, being attacked by wolves, getting numerous flat tyres, surviving ice storms and near starvation, were par for the course. 

The older I get and the more I seek safety and comfort in my travelling, the more I wonder how on earth she decided in her seventies to take her three grand-daughters to travel around Cuba? (Maybe her endless consumption of bottles of beer of an evening helped!)

'…..I saw two magnificent eagles and the air was filled all day with lark-song… Scintillating snow-peaks and regal fir trees, brilliant green meadows right up to the snowline and glistening glaciers in the gullies, waterfalls tumbling and sparkling everywhere and jewel-like wild flowers, rippling bird-songs and the faint, clean aroma of some unfamiliar herb.' 

Dervla's adventures have inspired people around the world. From Michael Palin to Maria Popova.

The name Dervla Murphy would definitely enhance that bridge to adventure and possibility…….