Well, now: one serendipitous day in 1991 Eamon Duffy Director of the National Council of the Blind of Ireland whose effect on fund-raising resembles that of abrupt rnovement on  nitro-glycerine. got it  in his head to gather up a whole bunch of cyclists, and send them out to peddle their socks off for charity .The Blazing Saddles, ( hereafter ‘Saddles) were born.

Irish blood is rich fuel to any sort of challenge and there’d be no soft riding, but what’s a long day in the saddle, for goodness’ sake, against the permanent trial of being blind.
Besides, the stars of the team’d be the tandems, sighted pilot with VIP ( visually-impaired person ) in the engine room to force the pace. The Saddles rode their first tour -of California - in 1992 and since then, ( through Europe, South Africa, Australia, Canada) motivated by velocipedimania and a heartily piratical way with sponsors, the team has raised around £200,000 a year .Anyone can join and the team spirit makes the Saturday night camaraderie of a Dublin pub look unduly tepid. So it  was that on 4 September 1998. the Saddles wheeled out from Lourdes on the Expo'98 Challenge to ride some 930km through France and Spain into Portugal.

I hailed him 'You’ll have been sorry to miss this climb . 'I was looking forward to it he replied, ruefully, but, as you know, I’m here on a scholarship from the Samaritans.'

To single out but one example of Saddles’ dedication to fund-raising for the Blind of Ireland, septuagenarian Pat Moony typifies the breed: he takes in laundry to stump up his £2,000 entry money. Hurley sticks lashed to his bike's crossbar- a quick game at the lunch stops to burn off spare energy - Pat is it must he owned a hit of a quare one in that he appears to string out his energies between breakfast and dinner on a diet of scarce more than water. .. . a substance deemed by most Saddles to be fit only for the locating of punctures .

In Povoa, the Saddles’ FA XI (opinions as to the precise signification of that FA vary ) challenged the hotel team to an evening game of soccer 

The Tour leader Sean Kelly - so enamoured of the  Irish green, that he won the emerald Points jersey of the Tour de France an unequalled four times - has ridden for the NCBI since 1993/4, out of devotion  to the Saddles freewheeling cause and sheer love of the bike. It’s inspiring for everyone, the hot shots ,the wee nifties, the young. old and in-betweens and the cheery occasionals to ride alongside the man observe him boffing empty  cardboard boxes into the verge with a sideways flick of his back wheel and see his grin crack wide

Top of page Many of the Saddles are blind; quite a few of the other Saddles habitually act blind
 
  Stefan Grace, who’s blind, said he couldn’t see a thing .The guide feverishly tweaked the knobs and twiddled the focus and asked if that was better
 
The spirit of cooperation throughout the tour was, by general assent, good, marred only by the repeated attempts of various splenetic individuals to discombobulate the chairman, Fergus O'Hagan, SC ( Silk Cut) Fergus robust committment to long-distance cycling is famous and he pursues,to use the word at its very loosest, he pursues an idiosyncratic fitness régime which leaves most so-called amateur gutbusters gasping. Yet, selfish puncture victims, heartlessly presuming on their Chairman’s sunny temper, would quite off-handedly importune temporary loan of his front wheel thus consigning him, all a-fret, to the padded smoking lounge of the broom wagon .He was,it goes without saying, bitterly reluctant to cede the loss of a few hours of athletic action in a baking sun, yet his own native magnanimity won through, wedded as he is to philanthropic principle -care for the less fortunate, lending a hand to people in a fix needlessly ingratiating tosh of that ilk .I passed his trim figure at the foot of one climb, 2 km of vicious 7% hairpins up a bare hillside into conifer groves balmy with resin and sunburnt pine cones .He stood at the side of the road fuming, ( Silk Cut ), as Fintan McGill loaded his now monocycle into the trailer,

I hailed him 'You’ll have been sorry to miss this climb . '

'I was looking forward to it he replied, ruefully, but, as you know, I’m here on a scholarship from the Samaritans.'

( By the bye, chief mechanic Fintan’s adept wielding of toolbox, tyre-lever and monkey wrench helped many a stranded Saddle out of a hole and the man’s grace under pressure never yielded to impatience or ill-temper ‘ Fling the bloody crate in the trailer won’t you, and let’s get on ‘ he’d say)

To resume: the Chairman’s reserve cracked but once " What’s the Portugese for "thick as a plank"?' he asked me one day at the lunch stop ' I’m going to snarl at one of these policemen and get myself arrested, I could do with a ride.'

In the interests of keeping him at full racing peak I bit my tongue and withheld the information

I wish to scotch unseemly reports that the following exchange did actually take place 

The Tour was, by common consent, an exceptional one 

In Povoa, the Saddles’ FA XI (opinions as to the precise signification of that FA vary ) challenged the hotel team to an evening game of soccer . They at once fell victim to local chicanery. Unbeknownst, the home side had dug up the entire pitch overnight and spirited the turf away, leaving a wicked surface of shifting sands to which their own preternaturally long boot studs were well-suited. The Saddles, in more traditional pumps, floundered Moreover, the Portugese cunningly adopted an all-white strip, rendering them nigh-invisible in the glare of the powerful floodlights. Nor was this the end of it - no level playing field here. The Irish team, clad in traditional red, their supporters supplying the green along the touchline, were further hampered by the inclusion in their number of a contingent of motley English and Caledonian makeweights, two of whom, through a lamentable breakdown in liaison, scored all the visitors’ goals ( These supernumeraries, from a TIC team who support and help adults with learning disabilites, are based in Coventry ,Following their shameless hogging of the limelight on this occasion they were fortunate indeed not to be sent back there ) However, nobility shone through and, in the interests of entente cordiale, the Saddles’ graciously conceded a 7—3 defeat to the plucky Portugese .Their cheer leaders, though, did carry off the Molly Malone Invitation plaque — by unanimous decision of Eamon Duffy, the Tour director — not least for an ebullient rendition of the Blazing Saddles anthem in mid—pitch at half—time
 

If you follow the Blazing Saddles

Clap your hands ( bis)

You must really push the pedals

It’s the greatest cycling team in all the land

etc etc

Authorship of this stirring farrago of twaddle is, for patriotic reasons, kept a closely— guarded secret

Ah, the drinking. Many of the Saddles resemble Flann O’Brien’s Third Policemen not a little

The cheer—leaders were led out by Jan Flanagan and Anne Carey the two of them also responsible for daily signposting of the route, a varied, scenic route planned meticulously by Jan and Nick her husband Skulking out of the hotels unbreakfasted at 6am like a pair of double—room moonlighters, Jan and Anne pasted, pinned and posted arrows notices and fingerposts from start to finish of the daily rides, crucial roundabouts, tricky side turnings and all. Often to no avail, of course Many of the Saddles are blind; quite a few of the other Saddles habitually act blind and the official back marker spent many a lazy hour dozing on the grass verges in the afternoon sun waiting for stray breakaway groups who’d shot left past signs pointing right, to be hauled back in the shimmering slipstream of ride-marshall Alfie Acheson’s powerful motorbike lately believed to have been summarily repossessed by the Guardai in Dublin.

Stefan, sensing that Kelly was going particularly well that day, leaned over his man’s shoulder to spur him on, 

On the seafront in Povoa - an ancient fishing port -stands a monument to a blind man of the sea, 0 Cego de Maio. His sightless eyes brood on the massive Atlantic rollers which hammer incessantly at this coast ( I tried swimming in them, a snail’d have better luck in the high jump. ) A century ago, he’d been a fisherman who went blind but continued to venture out into the treacherous waters when boats were foundering and saved many a life .He knew the currents so well, every rock and sandbar and he homed in on the cries of distress over the keening of the wind and the crash of the tide. Blind, going out into that furious ocean . makes you shudder.

Eamon Duffy reminded the Saddles that if anyone wanted to ride into town they should be sure and take their bicycle with them

I’d never, before this trip, talked to a blind person ‘ We’re the same as you' Geraldine said to me Kind words, if inexact . The cheerful resource of the blind over their affliction is humbling .How many sighted people expend so much effort on the easy labours of their day as it takes a blind person merely to get about, to fumble round in a strange bathroom, to eat a plate of food, to make a cup of coffee ‘ And spice it with humour .In Oporto we visited the HQ of Sandeman’s Our guide, togged out in replica of the famous logo -black spanish sombrero: cue sherry, Coimbra university student’s cape’ cue port — switched on the slide show and asked if everyone could see. Stefan Grace, who’s blind, said he couldn’t see a thing .The guide feverishly tweaked the knobs and twiddled the focus and asked if that was better.

'I still can’t see a thing ‘ said Stefan

After the guided tour, the Saddles were parked at refectory tables to sample the drink known as ‘bottled sunshine’, ruby and white. Plainly considering this beverage to be a teetotal drink, resembling the true Guiness only remotely ( by its deep red colour ), one of the company, when informed that he was drinking a vintage over 20 years old, peered dolefully into his miniscule glass, the fourth he’d swallowed, and replied ‘ It’s very small for its age'

final lunch of the Saddles’ Tour ‘98 an entirely sumptuous barbecue in a pine grove .

Ah, the drinking. Many of the Saddles resemble Flann O’Brien’s Third Policemen not a little, in that they must surely be well over 50% bicycle in constitution for, like the bike, they find themselves unable generally to stand up without something to lean against. To be fair to the philosophical notion of bicycle qua bicycle, this is because, come the evening, many of the Saddles are often more dished than ever their wheels are .Take blind Gerrie Lennon Please, No, come on, now Gerrie came to the Expo Tour ready for spritely action, as ever; then, having left his guitar behind at the start of the tour in Lourdes, he persistently left his own self behind in assorted hotel rooms long after the rest of the Saddles had departed. His taxi bill for the Tour is reputed to have topped the accumulated jackpot for the Saddles’ nightly lottery, the Blotto, by several noughts. This gratuitous sponsorship of local cab firms began with 2 careless hours oversleeping at the hotel in Santander .One misadventure rapidly piled on top of another till finally, in an attempt to get back to the hotel bar from Lisbon in advance of the returning coaches he poached a ride with the luckless Peter Donagher, who, eager to crack on, missed his motorway exit and proceeded to Coimbra, where we’d lodged a week earlier. The pair of them eventually stumbled into the hotel at  4 am. There to be informed by Fergus how, three hours earlier, the hotel manager had declared the bar open for unlimited free drinks, but, dearie me, the curfew had just fallen .A passing Saddle accused Fergus of a bare—faced cruel untruth, Fergus promptly denied the charge in strenuous terms, calling it sheer calumny and mischief of which a man of his affable disposition could never be capable .Then, looking Gerrie square in his blind eyes, he complained of fresh—air poisoning and claimed a cigarette. Gerrie saw his chance, shrewdly refused the gasper on pain of access to the Chairman’s minibar and, an ugly scene there might have been, but negotiations proceeded. spurred by nicotine starvation on the one side and a powerful thirst on the other and the exchange was decided upon.

supplemented the customary display of smart new leisure-wear with various items of lost, found and inexplicably discarded apparel

The Saddles have a lot of fun it’s an essential to the spirit and enterprise of raising money, but every one of them has to earn their sponsorship, and all the high jinks can never disguise the passion at the heart of the company Outside the hotel in Bilbao, on the morning of 8 September, the whole company stood dismounted while Sean Kelly delivered a moving tribute, in Spanish and English, to the Spanish children caught up and killed in the Omagh bomb outrage. We paused a minute in silence and prayed for these minutes to be multiplied into years and for the men who won’t budge an inch yet rant, from their bunkers of violence or sanctimonious rectitude, of going the extra mile for peace. to be shamed into silence.

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The last port of call was Fatima, and on the ride into that other shrine to Our Lady, Stefan Grace was partnered by Sean Kelly This necessitated a change of footwear — the tandem pedals didn’t take cleats. Even Kelly, who seems to be capable of divesting himself of most items of apparel whilst in the saddle on the move and, sporadically, losing them by the side of the road, had to admit defeat here and dismount. Stefan, ever alert for a dose of tar, puffed away the delay cheerily. When at last they were on the move, Stefan, sensing that Kelly was going particularly well that day, leaned over his man’s shoulder to spur him on, adding that since he seemed to be surplus to requirement just then, he was going to take a much—needed cigarette break

Later still, on the long climb to the plateau on which Fatima is built, Stefan reached into his back pocket for a mouth organ and, punctuating vocals with instrumental solos, chivvied the peloton of 150 riders up the gradient with a medley from the Irish song—book, rounding off, as the peculiar tradition dictates, with

If you follow the Blazing Saddles

Keep both eyes peeled for puddles

Unless, like me, you happen to be blind.

Eamon Duffy reminded the Saddles that if anyone wanted to ride into town they should be sure and take their bicycle with them. Given the prevailing record of forgetfulness among the party, this advice was timely. 

In Fatima that day, Peter Donagher and the catering crew, who are to the conjuring—up of roadside picnics and the shrugging off of trying circumstances what the Campagnolo rear mech is to smooth gear changes, produced their final lunch of the Saddles’ Tour ‘98 an entirely sumptuous barbecue in a pine grove .The magnificent catering team spent their days largely setting up and breaking camp, making the food, serving the food and clearing it all away before the drive on to the next hotel .Gruelling work .They and the luggage crew, who packed and unpacked the antics with bags, bikes and assorted paraphernalia every day, morning and afternoon, provided the kind of support service which you couldn’t put a price on or ever hope to repay .If an army marches on its stomach, the Saddles undoubtedly ride on their back—up of professional class organisers knitted together by the liaison of Eleanor Kirwan and kept in health by the medical care of Caitriona Devilly and Clodagh Loftus Every one of them peerless, uncomplaining, efficient and time no object . Why, Jacko ‘Luggage McCarthy was frequently to be found zigzagging along the hotel corridors in the early hours of a morning apparently carrying out security checks.
Before lunch that day in Fatima, Eamon Duffy reminded the Saddles that if anyone wanted to ride into town they should be sure and take their bicycle with them. Given the prevailing record of forgetfulness among the party, this advice was timely. It was only when we reached the perimeter of the sanctuary that we discovered that cycling is not permitted therein, nor are dogs, beggars, bag-snatchers, mobile phones, brass instruments, ball-games, decolleté off-the-shoulder beachwear, bawling etc. One of the Saddles, scrutinising the list of banned activities, murmured

Well, we’re going to have a ball in here.

The Cowells

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On the penultimate morning of the Tour, the Cowell family, who supply the Saddles with unstinting supplies of physiotherapy, massage, team merchandise and merciless humour, set up their stall in the lobby of the Dos Templarios hotel, a vast atrium done out in marble and plate glass. Unconscionably posh. This being the last opportunity they had of hawking their wares, the Cowells - Margaret, Joe and Mick - supplemented the customary display of smart new leisure-wear with various items of lost, found and inexplicably discarded apparel unearthed from the murkier corners of their van, including three pairs of knickers ( ladies’ownership unproved ), ditto pairs of underpants ( mens’ .ownership unconfessed ) and assorted socks ( odd and matched ) Consider the astonishment etched on the faces of a party of tight-lipped Price Waterhouse executives in Italian suits who emerged from the lift that morning to find their route to the conference hall blocked by a trestle table piled with jumble from a travelling Irish street-market.

Three countries
Many cultures
 

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On the Expo Tour ‘98, we cycled through villages quaintly named Chaos, For Sale and Water All-year-round The route took us along wild sea-coasts, dipping and soaring over cliff edges with the Atlantic surf coursing in onto smashed causeways of gleaming black rock and half-moon bays of smooth sand, over the ups and downs of the lower Pyrenees as they peter out westwards, by winding riverside paths, through the eucalyptus forests of northern Spain and Portugal On a Sunday morning so tranquil and still, down green country lanes so rapt in peace you’d have known it for the Lord’s Day even without the church bells, we rode out of Orthez where, the night before, a Basque choir had charmed the fatigue and clamour out of us with songs in harmonies that dropped from a clear blue heaven and words of that queer impenetrable language which even the Devil, in seven years of learning, could master no more than 3 words of, though what the three are the Devil is keeping schtumm about .And after they’d finished, we dined and danced to the gleeful jazz and swing of a local band in the hall where dinner was served For three days, echelons of Basque motorbike police escorted us through their province as if we were visiting bike-racing royalty and one day one of them shot the sweeper back onto the bunch, after a puncture, gripping the seat of his saddle and propelling him at 60mph in an ecstasy of terror and idiot disbelief .In Maceda, the village children lined the church square and cheered after the priest had given us his blessing for the progress of the ride that had paused in their small corner’ the gift of a hello and farewell and a return of the smile we hoped to convey to every place we passed through .— scene of the special Mass and a memorable hymn of Envoi from Stefan Grace himself — to the last elated ride up the massif above Tomar to the convent—castle, once home of the Templan Knights, lords of Tomar, the men and women of the Saddles notched up miles of sweet riding and honest sweaty riding, many evening hours of the well—lubricated craic and days of hot sun and one of cool rain .Stood outside a bar, dripping wet that very day, one of the Saddles remarked ‘ If I was as wet inside as I am outside, wouldn’t I be as dry as a bone ?'

The emotion

The Tour was, by common consent, an exceptional one. There was but one injury and that no thanks to a Jehu of a car driver .The money was raised and newcomers to the Saddles’ experience didn’t quite know what to say on make of it One novice, when asked what she thought of the whole shebang, replied ‘ There are no words in life to describe these people' and, tangled up in who knows what whirl of emotions, incomprehension and utter disbelief that the thing had had not only happened but that she’d been part of it, turned on her heel and sidled off .She was later found unaccountably refusing the offer of a glass of draught vinho verde in a tidy wee local bar, boasting more than a hint of homeside ambiance, so shaken was she, evidently, by the tomfoolery and unpredictability of that extraordinary fortnight, the epic two-wheel trek from Lourdes to Tomar/Lisbon by the 1998 Blazing Saddles

addled
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If you follow the Blazing Saddles

You’re sure to wind up addled

By a joie de vivre for which you never planned

it's all lies 

Oh, en passant, and in the interests of group hygiene and one particularly fragile reputation, I wish to scotch unseemly reports that the following exchange did actually take place

Male Saddle to group of Female Saddles

Who’s for an orgy ? 2am till 5am, room 312

'You’re disgusting'

Oh, come on ,It won’t be a dirty orgy There’ll be no smoking and no coffee breaks .It’ll be clean, totally clean

It’s that disgusting that sticks in the craw

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Finally, it’s my opinion, for what that’s worth, that

Every Blazing Saddle

Deserves a winner’s medal

They’re the most generous, idiotic, warm-hearted, crazy, meritorious cycling team in all the land

Thanks to Graeme for allowing us to use his text. and for entertaining us along the way...see you in cathar country 

Pyreneen Pursuits 1999