Day 15 - Grianan of Aileach and the Wild Atlantic Way

Sunday, 29 September 2019
We say farewell to Derry today, but not without regret. My plans for a visit to the Peace Bridge earlier in our time here didn't work out, so despite our having a huge agenda today, some time there is absolutely my top priority. We need to go and retrieve the car to pick up our luggage anyway so we check out and leave the bags with reception meanwhile. It's a beautiful autumn morning as I lead the way. I've done some research online and seen the concept drawings and with Gleann's explanation yesterday I'm even more keen to take a closer look. On the ground the two bridges are paved in different colours to make the distinction clear as one bridge embraces the other. It's a beautiful concept. So much thought has gone into it's location and purpose.

A light breeze ripples the water of the River Foyle, disrupting the mirror effects. Despite our waiting luggage we take our time, soaking up the spirit of the place. Derry has been a delightful surprise. I am really glad we came here. OK I'm done, how about you? Hubby agrees and we walk back across the bridge together. If we are ever fortunate enough to return to Ireland we'd like to come back.

It's a quick and easy thing to drive up, pull up outside the hotel and load up. I very quickly snatch a rough photo of the memorial in the Diamond and an even worse attempt for the Hands Across the Divide artwork in the roundabout that meets a main thoroughfare across the Foyle.  

It's amazing how soon as you leave the city, you are enveloped in the rolling green countryside with pretty little houses and grazing stock. 

It's perhaps even more astonishing how soon you reach what must surely be one of the most impactful ancient monuments to be found anywhere on earth. Grianan of Aileach sits in deceptive modesty at the top of a hill with a fairly large carpak, complete with coffee caravan. A long ramped path for accessibility complements the main route up to the squat donut of rocks. It's hard to miss Grianan of Aileach when researching but what you can see online looks fairly pedestrian despite it's venerable age. Some cultural hero invested some money and restored it back in the 19th century is my recollection. Yeah, worth a stop, I mean why not. You're going right past.  Oh dear! Let me just make one thing clear as a bell. Grianan of Aileach is spectacular! WOW! The Monument itself is impressive. There's some tricky narrow stairs to climb to peer out over the edge, but the view. Oh my goodness, the view. 360 degrees of glorious country from the sea, along a river and distant mountains and a vertible heaven of productive farmland. A brooding sky creates a fourth dimension of light and shadow over all. Glorious. Simply glorious and impossible to do justice to in photographs or words. 

We walk the circuit of the walls, trying in vain to capture some image that will communicate the sense of space, the chill air, the depth of presence in the swirling cloud. There are some things that defy technology and man's control.

Back on our way, I notice the signs for the Rock of Doon. My research said there's a clooty well there so I was tempted, but in the end push came to shove and we've seen a clooty well before so we keep on.  

We wizz through the artworks in the roundabouts in Letterkenny. firstly The Workers and as if that isn't surprising enough, shortly after we come to the Polestar Roundabout. I love the rich artistic and cultural life displayed everywhere we've visited. My hasty memory jogger snapshots don't do the originals justice. 

As we approach Glenveagh National Park the look of the country changes and becomes overwhelmingly like driving through the Scottish Highlands. 

It's extremely beautiful, and the clouds add to the grandeur of the autumnal landscape. We make the turn and a decision is called for. The manifesto proposed a couple of walks and lunch. We've suffered some slippage. I don't think the walks are feasible today actually. I've seen some photos. I'm feeling a strong sense of Scotland de ja vu. Push comes to shove and the Wild Atlantic Way calls us on. Today was always going to involve some hard decisions. We've crunched Donegal about as tight as it's possible to do. 

As we come into Dunfanaghy, my initial response is delighted surprise. I don't know why I should be surprised. I hadn't imagined it to be such an inviting, bustling place. It looks like it's a lovely place for a tourist to stop and poke about in the shops or relax in a cafe. The locality is very pretty too, situated on a beautiful bay. I find myself thinking that this would be a lovely spot to stay if one had more time. We never have enough time on this side of the globe. 

From sea level we climb again up along narrow roads where weathered poles support wire fences to protect the stock from passing traffic. I call for a stop when we find a flock of horned black-faced sheep near the road in amongst electrical staunchions and various compositional hazards. No good. Everything about this spot doesn't work for a photo and the sheep are skittish anyway. Judging by their reaction, they really weren't expecting a car to stop here. The sheer bald faced affrontery of it. 

At Horn Head there's plenty of cars parked along the road and plenty of people coming and going from the rough path up to the viewpoint. 

Wow. Where do you look first? 

A World War 2 observation post sits in ruins on the headland, a glassless bay window and a fireplace suggest a history of quiet comfort or was there a clacking transmitter operating all the long hours of survellance?  I can think of worse occupations than sitting here by the fire peering out to see on a cold blustery day or night. I check my photograph to find the view overlayed like a roll of celluloid film edged in black.. 

I'm struggling with the camera. The light is challenging, the auto settings aren't really coping as well as I'd like and I'm not sufficiently skilled to adjust things appropriately. Aagh. I need more practice. I feel like the intelligent auto setting my little Lumix would cope much better in this situation. It's very frustrating, but the spectacular views and scenery are sufficiently distracting that I almost don't care. Peninsulas to north and south create in my imagination an endless series of exploration trails. I would have loved to explore the more northerly sections. We've only time to go southward now.

Back down the track to the car, and around the mud flats in the bay, eyes peeled for migratory birds, we head back into Dunfanaghy, where there are public facilities handily located to the parking lot.  We don't linger longer than necessary and get back on the road.

Driving to Bloody Foreland, we come to russet fields with lines of white sacks that clue us in that this must be an enormous peat field. How fascinating. Vast areas are sharply and neatly ridged where roads have been cut into the peat. We have seen some smaller scale peat harvesting on the Isle of Skye, but nothing on this industrial scale

When we get to Bloody Foreland we find a large area for pulling over and some information boards that explain that the peat in this area was used to fire a power station from the war years until the 1990s. Well that would take a lot of peat wouldn't it. I wonder whether peat as fuel is being managed sustainably and how fast it lays down compared to demand for fuel. ... a little googling reveals that Ireland has been closing peat bogs because harvesting them releases carbon and that peat is more damaging than burning coal. Oh. That's a shame. So it's a situation of transitioning away from peat.  

The good time girls

Also very welcome at Bloody Foreland is a flock of horned black faced sheep that is quite sanguine about the proximity of tourists gaping at them. At last! I spend more time photographing the sheep than the views, which are splendid enough, but not quite on a par with Horn Head or Grianan of Aileach.  We know from a previous trip that the sheep are marked with a dye so that they can be identified at the end of the summer grazing. This trip someone we were talking to, another tourist, says they were told that the rams carry a coloured dye marker that marks the ewe when the ram services her, and this is why you get the two colours. Gees, talk about wearing the scarlett letter. Eventually I get a reasonably satisfactory portrait of the sheep and I'm ready to move on. 

Throughout this area I find myself marvelling at a reasonable density of housing and it's a pretty high standard of housing as well. I wonder where they all work. 

 

Quick on the draw I manage a reasonable shot of a flock of sheep being driven from one paddock into the next as we whiz past in the car. 

Mount Errigal from a pull over spot on the N56 at Gweedore looking up the Clady River

Time is getting away from us, so we head purposefully on to Ardara, pleased that we will be there in plenty of time to check out Triona. We park in the spaces in front of the premises and go in. The store is large and well stocked. A sales assistant comes over to help us with our selections. There are many beautiful things. Fortunately they ship internationally, so for a price, we save our luggage weight. 

It's great to be finished in good time because that means we can tick off a couple of pencilled in stops from the manifesto. We climb back in the car and set out, heading for Assaranca Waterfall, not sure what we'll find.  The waterfall is largely hidden on approach in a fold in the hillside. There's a on open space by the falls and a few people gathered around a tiny tripod pointed in the obvious direction. The falls are very beautiful. After a time we're left to ourselves as others depart. A local man walks past and sparks up a conversation, observing that they are flowing very well due to their having been a lot of rain over recent days.
With the light still holding we follow the brown signs to explore down towards Loughross Point and ultimately find ourselves at a curious boat ramp, quite different in nature to those with which we are familiar. Hubby's finding this most interesting and enjoyable. We look across to the cliffs, though late in the day the cloud cover limits any colourful effects.

It's been a long day and we've pushed it to its limits. It's time to go and check in and get settled before some dinner. Our base overnight is the Nesbitt Arms in Ardara (pronounced Arda-RA). The town is very busy. Parking is limited and the best we can do is down the street and around the corner. We've got ourselves organised so we only need our overnight bags rather than everything thank goodness. Walking to the Nesbitt Arms we walk past Nancy's and it sounds lively in there. We tired though, so just want something simple with a minimum of fuss or delay. 

Our room is comfortable but we're not there long before heading down to the dining room, where after a brief pause of uncertainty a table for two is found. 

Of course we do a good job of sampling the menu and probably ate more of it than it really deserved.  

Day 14 - Derry / Londonderry - Walking tours and Free Derry Museum, Dinner at

Saturday, 28 September 2019
Compared to the last couple of days, this morning is a leisurely affair. Breakfasting in luxury at the Shipquay, Hubby opts for the eggs with smoked salmon. The breakfast buffet is also very good. This is a lovely place to stay.

We only have a very short time in Derry. We're into the stage of the trip that was not a foregone conclusion when we set out to visit Northern Ireland. As I report on todays explorations, I guess it's time to discuss a few sensitive topics. I grew up in Sydney and was in primary school and high school in the 1970s, graduating in 1981. As a child I was not oblivious to the news and current affairs playing on my TV screen each evening. Indeed, I remember with great satisfaction a creative writing piece I wrote when I was 11 which was related to the politics of unionisation. I named it Undressing Dragons and it was very obviously inspired by contemporary industrial disputes and sexual politics. With respect to Northern Ireland what I saw on my TV, putting myself back in my child's mind, could be summarised as outrageous and unjustifiable death and mayhem fuelled by hate speech. I didn't have a label like "hate speech" to use at the time. In fact, at the time, using the concepts I'd been raised on I just regarded the rhetoric I heard on my TV simply as "evil" and the personages from whom that speech was coming, evil people. I was glad I lived a world away and formed a firm view that I absolutely wanted nothing whatsoever to do with Northern Ireland. 

Fast forward to 2011 and beyond when I started to trace my family history, I found I have two lines of family heritage in Northern Ireland. To be honest, I wasn't as interested in them as I was those who came from other places. When I set out to visit the places of family origin. Northern Ireland just didn't figure in the plan at all. Gradually, I began to think more seriously about whether to go to Northern Ireland. It started out small. Then at some point I realised that agreements ending the large scale violence, had been in place for a couple of decades now. How time flies! Peace is holding. I thought, Hey I'm big on the importance of leaving the past in the past, let Northern Ireland do the same. Practice what you preach. So I made a conscious decision to come over and treat Northern Ireland as I would any other destination. My resolve wobbled a bit when that poor Journalist was murdered, but in the end, we stuck to the plan as it was.
Friends of ours had returned from a trip that included Belfast and where they included "must do" things like the Black Cab tour. They just shook their head in incredulity and reported that when invited to write something on the wall, one wrote "Be kind to each other" and the other, who resisted and was really pushed to participate, wrote "Fucking stupidity". They still mention in awed shock when discussing that trip that their black cab driver boasted of just burning gypsies out, as though this was obviously the perfectly normal and acceptable thing to do. So I thought. Yeah, I have ZERO interest in Troubles tourism. I have ZERO interest in engaging with any of that. I can visit and I can read the literature and just see the other sights. I laugh about that now. That was never going to happen for me, due to my nature and my interests. I started reading and I found I couldn't really engage on any level with Ireland, whether the Republic or Northern Ireland without engaging with the history. I have to be honest, what I read shocked me to the core. I was hooked. Troubles tourism here we come!

My initial research suggested that the one absolutely "must do" thing in Derry is a walking tour of the city walls. Derry has fully intact city walls and this is highly unusual. But which tour? I looked around and came up with one. Derry Guided Tours. They are, or were, the only one that also has a Derry Girls walking tour, so absolutely, we are IN. We LOVE Derry Girls. But we also want to do a walking tour of the Bogside. Reading away on the website for the tours, totally with my guard down, I came across some background that said that our guide is the son of someone killed on Bloody Sunday and I suddenly find myself with tears dripping on my keyboard. A bit of emailing back and forth and we make a deal to do two walking tours, start quite early, break for lunch and then resume with a finish at about two o'clock. We'll do a mix of content, city walls, Derry Girls and Bogside.

We're meeting Gleann at the Tower Museum, Hubby goes to make sure we've got plenty of cash and I amuse myself exploring a lovely little group of shops in what I would now describe as an Entry, assuming you use the same terminology for these spaces as they use in Belfast. This is lovely, I could explore in here for quite a while. Concerned that Hubby has no idea where I am  I head back out to the street just at the right time and we walk down the hill to the museum together. 

We connect with Gleann and set off via some steps up onto the city walls. We walk along past the gun emplacements with their original cannons still in situ, hearing about the history of the city and the walls themselves. Londonderry is called Londonderry because during the Plantation of Ulster, in beautiful Trumpian fashion, James 1 figured out a scheme to have a consortium of London Livery companies pay to build them. They are still owned by The Honourable The Irish Society to this day, but have been managed by the State since 1955. From a tourist's perspective the walls are pure gold. The fact that they are still so intact is amazing to me and in a moment of particular stupidity born, despite my reading, of profound ignorance of context. I ask how long ago the community recognised the walls as a marvellous asset.  Gleann takes my question in his stride and explains that it's only very recently that people have really started to see the walls this way. A lot of people would have been happy to see them go due to the role they played during the civil war. There's terms Gleann, and I dare say many others, choose not to use, "The Troubles" is one of them. Referring to "Northern Ireland" is another. The penny drops. Like some of the castles in Scotland, the walls are so intact because they were in use. Still enforcing the Plantation of Ulster. Until the 1990s some sections of the wall were still restricted access with military patrols along them, so many in the community don't remember that fondly. If I was to record my thoughts at this point, they would probably offend those who don't like foul language or blasphemy. I just find the whole situation very difficult to get my head around, given that this problem has existed so recently in a modern, western democracry.

We head around like this talking about what we can see from the walls, the history over time and related matters. We laugh about particular events or characters from Derry girls and Gleann explains some of the local context that makes the show even funnier.  Along the way we get a great insight into the community, the various motivations for entering the church in a society where options were limited. It's all great fun and very interesting. 

We look out at the peace bridge and talk about the uses to which the buildings on the far shore of the Foyle were put over time.  I ask about the symbolism built into the design of the bridge and Gleann explains that it represents hands across the divide, it's actually two bridges that come together in the middle of the river, like two arms and shaking hands. Nowadays, young people go to events over on the far shore, without knowledge of some of that history of the buildings and grounds there. The community is moving on. Building bridges. 

At one point we come to a hollow metal figure. A scupture intended to represent two figures joined together, they symbolise the two major religious communities of the city, represented by the cruciform pose. Gleann points out that the eyes are holes and you can look through from each figure to see through the eyes of the other. Public artwork and infrastructure act as tangible reminders of the need for the community to come together. Learn about and from each other's perspectives.  Michael looks through the eyes. I stretch on tippy toes and just manage to gain the required height for the purpose, which makes me contemplate that this may provide a metaphor for the stetch that is required for people to reach beyond their grief and anger, and there is stacks of both on each side of conflict, to build peace where there has been generations of trauma. It's impressive, not just this artwork, but the work the community is doing.

Sculpture for Derry Walls by Antony Gormley, 1987

We don't stay on the city walls the whole time on this bespoke walking tour. Those who don't watch the show might roll their eyes at this, but probably the most excited and joyful surprise on our tour, was a moment where we walk up the street into a spot where Gleann tells us to turn around.  We burst out laughing and smiling. We LOVE It. Nah. Sorry. I just can't say more. If you love Derry Girls and are visiting Derry, just take the tour with Gleann. Doing it the way we have, interspersed with some more sombre subject matter is ideal I think. 

St Columb's Cathedral

One day in Derry doesn't come anywhere near enough time to really explore and see all the sights, many of which are pointed out to us as we walk around.

Walking along the city walls overlooking the Bogside, we look down at the murals as Gleann points out landmarks across the landscape below. Cave Hill prompts some chat about Gulliver's Travels and some other famous literary works now considered by at least some academics, to be allegories in one case for the British occupation of Ireland and another, the British Empire. Looks like we have some reading or re-reading to do in those directions. 

View over the Bogside from the city walls

We break for lunch and after we sort out our parking tarrif, some online research leads us to a little place called the Coffee Tree where they sell possibly the largest sandwiches we've seen in our lives. Oh dear. One between us would have been enough. The almost impossibly large thick slices of dark brown bread are beautifully soft and fluffy and our choices of filling are also very tasty. The cafe space is very small and they seem to cater to a lot of people who get their sandwiches and go. Not really surprising they are very good value. What a shame we don't have room for one of their tray bakes deployed to tempt visitors at the counter.

We reconvene for our tour of the Bogside and I think I surprised Gleann by behing able to identify the woman in this mural. Even more so because I had a mental block as to her name but I could say that she was a leader of the march that was attacked at Burntollet Bridge. Not many visitors on Gleann's tours know about Burntollet. Locally it's extremely well remembered of course. He asks me have we been to the Free Derry Museum. Not yet. he asks me that a couple of times. Nah, I did some reading before coming on the trip.
As we stop at Free Derry Corner, we discuss the iconic wall. They change the colour of the background fairly regularly, supporting different campaigns and fights for freedom around the world. It used to be on a building but the building was demolised as the road was enlarged. I find this quite extraordinary. I should have thought that the powers that be over the years would dearly love for that to be gone. ... ok better stop there. Do the tour!  We watch and talk as others come up to have their photograph taken. At one point a silver haired gent, who seems simply thrilled to be at this place, comes over to Gleann as he walks from the wall and sparks up a conversation. I don't know if he recognised him or what. He's from Co. Cork visiting and he says with some passion and sorrow in his voice and a firm and lengthy handshake "We let you down, we let you down." As we walk around, Gleann gets lots of acknowledgements and a few quick interactions from people we come across. It proved to be an interesting aspect of the tour.
We progress along via the murals discussing their contents and the related events. Looking back up to the city walls, they tower over us in a most intimidating manner. Knowing that armed soldiers patrolled up there and that the residents of the Bogside were not permitted to plant trees because it impeded the view of the military is very confronting. We have seen the view from the walls. Down in the Bogside it must have felt like being a bug under the microscope.
We end at the Museum of Free Derry, running through the symbolic references in the design of the building. Particularly moving is the decorative panel on the side of the building. It's the sound wave from a recording of the marchers singing "We shall overcome" just prior to the massacre on Bloody Sunday.

Finished with our walking tours, we say our farewells and decide to go into the Museum. Manning the desk is a silver haired man whose brother was another of those killed on Bloody Sunday. He welcomes us warmly and we head on in. David Cameron's apology in the British Parliament for the events of Bloody Sunday are playing on a continuous loop on a large screen. There follows footage of the reaction of the relatives of those killed which is particularly interesting following Gleann's discription of the event from a participant's perspective. Moving around the museum consumes the rest of our day. Most of what is presented was a revision for me rather than fresh. Hubby found it all very interesting because it covered the history and events in Derry over a long period leading up to the Civil Rights movement and the slide into warfare. Artifacts on display were also very interesting and moving.

One day spent as we have doesn't do Derry justice, but it's a long way better than none at all. We have found it very rewarding. There's so much to see we have not had time to do. It's a lovely place and we're very comfortable at the Shipquay Hotel, what a shame we have to be off in the morning, but we're not quite done yet. Tonight we have plans. 

Our show is not scheduled to start until 8 pm at the Playhouse Theatre. Meanwhile there's dinner to be had. We choose a short list option from the trip manifesto and head across to Nonna's Woodfired Pizza across the street, banking on the early time to make a table available at short notice on a Saturday night. Luck is on our side, though the place looks busy. We're seated at a table down the back and we waste no time making our selections.  

Breaded Halloumi

Proscuitto E Rucola
tomato, fior di latte mozzarella, dry aged Parma ham with fresh rocket and parmesan shavings

The food is delicious and filling, the service and ambience combine to provide a most enjoyable meal. It's not far to walk around to the Playhouse Theatre.
The show is Songs of Social Conscience. We're in plenty of time and need to wait a little while for the doors to open. It's only a very small audience as we file in and select seats scattered around the theatre.  The sparcity makes the atmosphere a little awkward. In due course the main man comes out to polite applause and explains that he's set up a keyboard and second microphone in the hope that someone musical in the audience might come down and get involved in the performance. Noone comes forth. The evening  we are informed, has been designed as a discussion and group performance involving the audience. The audience's expectations appear to differ. But the audience is the least of our entertainer's problems. We set out on our journey of musical exploration with a backdrop presentation. After a couple of minutes the display shrinks and only a partial image is showing in the top left of the screen. The show pauses as people fiddle about with cords and tape and eventually the presentation is up and apparently cooperating. Our presenter though is rattled. Really rattled. The presentation goes down again and is fixed again and we get along the way awkwardly for some minutes interspersed with no screen and someone at the rostrum fiddling trying to get it going. Eventually this seems successful and stable for a while and we settle in and relax in our mindless optimism. Then gradually, just a few inches at a time the slide being shown starts creeping off the screen to the right. It looks for all the world like it's tippy toing away, hoping noone will notice. Eventually I just can't contain myself a moment longer and explode with laughter. The poor man he looks startled like he can't fathom what on earth has happened to spark this response. I'm saying "Sorry" through tears of laughter. Someone else volunteers "It looks like the presentation is sneaking away" and the room gives way to their own bursting laughter. Oh dear. Poor man, he turns to look and the image is well advanced in it's escape. The show is an unmitigated disaster but he carries on. Numerous appeals for someone in the audience to perform particular songs in his place because he's not good at them fail to identify any volunteers. Eventually a guy in the front row who comes across as a professional musician gets up with a posture of resignation and plays along for a song or two. I feel like I should know who he is but I don't. Eventually the show closes and we head on our way. Holy smoke. I've never spent a more excruciating evening. But none-the-less it's been a fascinating day.

Day 13 - Carrick-a-rede, Giant's Causeway, Seamus Heaney Home Place & The Dark Hedges

Friday, 27 September 2019
We are pretty business-like thismorning breakfasting and checking out of our room. Today the manifesto dictates that we turn our attention to the really big ticket items on the Causeway Coast and we end up in Derry with no shortage of cool stuff to do there so early arrival there is absolutely OK.
Now that we're at the point where I need to refer to it regularly, lets agree a convention. I'm calling it Derry because I'm Australian. We shorten everything if we possibly can. Derry is shorter than Londonderry.  Derry it is.

We have a time booked to do Carrick-a-rede Rope Bridge from 9:30 but the first priority is to slip down and check out Ballintoy Harbour. It's not far from Ballintoy as you would expect, but it is steeply downhill. I had toyed with walking it originally when planning. Nah. I don't think so, we have enough walking today as it is. There's quite a sizeable paved area for parking and some glamorous looking facilities designed to be totally sympathetic to the site. Impressive. It's pretty standard on our travels that pretty much all the facilities have been sympathetically done. This still impresses me every time. A food outlet is closed this early in the morning of course. Nearby information boards give me the run down on the site, the Game of Thrones one featuring a serious Theon Greyjoy with a Ballintoy Harbour backdrop.

Well. What can I say other than what a beautiful spot. The range of colours, rock types and overall arrangement of the natural landscape as we have moved around the coast of Ulster has been simply extraordinary. Ballintoy Harbour with it's timeless stonework is particularly pleasing. There are modern surfaces around the site, but they do not dominate. I am so glad Game of Thrones brought us here.  Not everyone watches GoT. Strange but true. I can almost sense from some quarters a bit of an eye-roll when I talk about going to this filming location or that, there being perhaps an assumption that such places would not be of interest to those who adopted a policy of abstinence from the global viewing addiction. But here's the thing, they choose outdoor filming locations because they are cinematically impressive don't they, and they are. They very much are and oh yes, Ballintoy Harbour is right up there because they have clearly needed little to no industry artifice to make this place look stunning. Our stop here has taken ooh, maybe 15-20 minutes. Why just drive on past?  As I have walked down along the harbour and spent a while watching the waves breaking over the rocks, wishing that the sea was a bit more angry this morning, Hubby has ventured across to check out a large cavern on the far side of the site. Much to see inside? Nah, not really. I skip it. I have pushed time to the limits just standing around. It's time to go.
Hubby wants to check out the lay of the land at the Giants Causeway in the time we have remaining before Carrick-a-rede. I check the drive times. We can make it. I think this is a reasonably pointless exercise and I say so. This idea of Hubby's is not informed by any research on his part but it's not often he asserts a strong opinion, so hey, we have time enough so over we go, through pretty standard scenery for the area turning into the parking area for the visitor's centre well before opening time. Numerous staff are buzzing around preparing for the flood of tourists about to descend. The carpark looks closed but a bloke in high vis, tells Hubby he can just pull up here near the building and jump out for a quick squiz. He probably had no idea what in fact Hubby was thinking. Maybe he though Hubby just wanted to check out the notice board or something. Another more senior bloke comes rushing over as we're'getting in the car --no no you can't stop there! You'll get fined! Thanks for the warning. Satsified with respect to what to expect later this morning Hubby's fine to head, fairly urgently now, back to Carrick-a-rede.

We arrive back at the parking area for Carrick-a-rede about 10 mins or so before our allotted time. Plenty of cars are here before us, but on parking space alone compared to when we returned, I'd say we're about middle of the pack for our booking. There's a cafe and little gift shop attached near the carpark, but we need to walk over a little way to the ticket hut to claim our online tickets and start heading down to the rope bridge. Now, I'm sure I read this in my research, but it bears repeating, the ticket for the rope bridge is only required for the actual rope bridge, there's a lot of walking trail between the carpark and ticket hut, and the rope bridge because you need to walk around the top of the cliffs fronting Larybane Bay towards Carrick-a-rede island.

Along the way, little brown bird with a dark face and hat and wearing a little brown and black tweed coat and white shirt, perches on a bare stem among the cliff side vegetation. He's so still and settled I change my camera lense to try for a close up.

The cliff top path around Larybane Bay

Looking on toward Carrick-a-rede island and the path ahead

People are streaming along the cliff path, obviously having come from all over the world, chattering in their own languages excitedly, extending selfie sticks and draping arms around their friends and loved ones, wearing beaming smiles.

We round the turn and find a long, long flight of shallow steps, natural finishes requiring some care as you place your feet. "Oh, won't this be fun on the way back" I think, closely followed by "It'll be good for me. It's fine." We reach a gateway that leads pretty smartly to a flight of steps down to the rope bridge. The gateway is manned by National Trust workers who are checking tickets and assisted by staff standing on the far side of the bridge, regulating the flow of people back and forth. Naturally, people want to linger for photos at times, in which case they call out a hurry up. You're not hanging about or mucking about on this thing.

Almost at the rope bridge now

Down the flight of stairs and you're onto the rope bridge

I go down first, quickly snapping some photos on the way. The stairs are fine. I know it's safe. I know it's substantial compared to the original. I can hang on to both sides, there's even planking on the base of the structure so it seems like a path. Is it because the descent down the stairs and the viewing area up top before you head in gives you ample opportunity to see the height of this thing? Is it the wobble as you step out over the drop? "Somebody's jumping!" I exclaim in fright. Though I'm sure they're not really, it's just the bounce from the footfall as they walk behind me. This thing is freaking terrifying. I resolve to look resolutely ahead. There's no drop. Really. It's fine. One step at a time. Hold it together.  Foot steps to solid ground. Oh thank God.  ...I'm going to have to go back over that thing. Don't think about it. Look at the coast. Look at the little fisherman's cottage. Check out the boat. Hubby cannot believe they could possibly haul their catch back across the rope bridge as it was. The sign says they did and there's no reason they should lie about it. Hubby thinks surely they must have landed their catch over at one of the harbours directly from the sea. Apparently not. We linger on the headland. I think Hubby's enjoying this rather more than me. We take lots of photos. There's a minimum time spend on the island surely, to make this whole thing seem real in retropect. After a while, I've had enough and head back down to join the queue for the return. I can see why they have had to restrict numbers. It's good how it is but unrestricted it would be a worry. Hubby though, is not finished, so in the end I go back up to be companionable. Take some more photos. Eventually he's had his fill and we head back down the slope.

The rope bridge and cliffs of Larybane Bay

As I wait in the queue I can't help overhearing a guide responding to a question about Irish reunification. Odd the things tourists think appropriate to ask people whose job would, I should have thought, give absolutely no suggestion that the role description includes commentary on political matters. Asked for a personal opinion, what else can the guide do but give a straightforward answer. I note this for later. I give Hubby instructions to photograph me as I cross and I'll photograph him in return once I get to the other side. I've been watching others pose for the happy snap and regret not having our act together on the way over. This is our one chance, because I'm not planning a third crossing, that's for freakin' sure.
OK. My turn. Deep breath. No one in front of me. I step out. I look straight ahead not down. I'm not in the air. I'm not in the air. I'm fine. this is fine. Done. I'm on land. Breath easy. Turn. Hubby is waiting on the other side and attracts the attention of the attendants. MOVE ACROSS THE BRIDGE. Over he comes. He's absolutely loving it. We climb the stairs and head back to the little viewing area while we decide which route to take back to the car. "Why didn't you stop and turn around!" Hubby exclaims as we ascend.  "I was waiting for you to turn around." Turn around?! Are you joking. I was fully occupied holding it together. Turn around?! I tell him he's dreamin'.

At the viewing area, I'm trying to get photos that show the water below the bridge. Hubby's taller than me so I get him to hold the camera in the air, back screen extended and angled so he can see the composition from below. (Great feature that one). Satisfied at last, or at least satisfied we've got as good as we're going to get, we decide to just retrace our steps. Steps is right. Long flights of steps. On the upside, the risers are pretty shallow so it's not really that bad at all. The've done a good job of minimising the pain. That was great!! Hubby exclaims. That's my second favourite thing after the Archery. "Hmmm." I reply. "Didn't you like it?" Hubby asks in amazement. "I don't like heights." Is my simple reply. He knows this. Really, I don't like heights. I've not done too bad dealing with it, sometimes you'd never know. I've even been known to look down from office windows now and then without feeling terrified. But really? Yeah, lets pay the charge and get the certificate. We stand at the window of the ticket hut for a while. Noone's paying us the least bit of notice. The queue on the other side is pretty busy and they're fully occupied. Oh, forget it. Let's go, once we've gone to check out the shop. I buy a souvenir pottery horned and black faced sheep, I've had my eye out for those. Grandaughter3 loves my little collection of animals in the display cabinet, she'll like to see a new one. Hubby buys a souvenir coffee. Eventually we're heading back to the car. So, Carrick-a-rede Rope Bridge - Tick. That's taken us about an hour and a quarter without really rushing the walk.

Notice the design. The hexagonal patterned paving and the columnar sides of the centre, reference the nature of the causeway rocks. Beatufully done.

Now it's time to steel ourselves and head over to the Giant's Causeway. There's still plenty of parking when we arrive. We head into the visitors centre to claim our tickets, Aussie National Trust employed once again. Keen to see the causeway first and lunch later we head through the exhibition without engaging with it, claim the audio tour and go. We can have geology or myths and legends. Hubby opts for geology, definitely myths and legends for me please. Just outside the building there's a bus in the process of boarding. Free for national trust members, they've got plenty of space left.  Oh, isn't that handy. In the face of instant decisions, we take the cautious approach. On we get.

Gosh it's a long way to the set down point! Down the hill around the corner. Yes! It's bang on low tide. I've been watching the tides over the last few days. Aren't we lucky, our plans set in stone months ago have panned out pretty much perfectly. I was getting a bit nervous as people have been recommending we try to get there before the hoards descend. Doing Carrick-a-rede first was starting to feel like a mistake.

The causeway stones in the intertidal zone are rich and black. Those we would have seen at higher tide are a mid brown colour, rough and sunbleached. the main lump of causeway has people all over it. Naturally we head towards the areas with least people, and go to start my audio guide. Well there's a trap for young players. The audio guide starts up as you leave the visitors centre. Clearly the idea is you walk down the hill to the causeway and get the bus back up. As I try to see if there's an obvious route up to the higher sections, there's a woman wandering about exclaiming in amazement. "This place is incredible." She can hardly contain herself. Other's stand out closer to the waves, back to the sea. Asking for trouble, though the sea seems quite docile today.

Looking at our Causeway map, I follow the numbers through to the far side of the main Causeway. I'm curious to see how people climbed up. We're standing around like lots of others, not quite sure what to do with ourselves  and we start walking out towards the interesting features over in the distance. I had in mind to walk over to those ones that remind me of Kilt Rock on Skye. I'd like a closer shot of that pinacle on the headland that reminds me of the Old Man of Storr (also on Skye). Before long, I change my mind. Yeah, that's going to take ages. Let's head back.
We stand around the edge of the main causeway section where the columns rise tall above us. Others are getting photos against the rocks here, so I suggest we do that also. Then I notice a really strange feature in the rock. That's unusual. Isn't that extraordinary. There's all these rusty circular markings everywhere. Then the penny drops. Literally. It's money! OMG! Is there nowhere stupid humans won't shove or throw money?   It's taken some force to wedge all this money in the rock. They must have smashed them and smashed them. Some are even bent over the edge of the crevice. Wanton vandalism. As we look we see more and more. They're freaking everwhere in this area. What the... why would you do such a thing? I just cannot understand the motivation, but there's no new ones I can see. Clearly people did this a long time ago.

I'm having some issues hearing the audio due to the ambient noise level. I'm too restless to settle to it anyway. I spy a bare area and suggest we go down there to get some photos, follow me. I channel my inner Annie Leibovitz and place Hubby in where I want him and give him direction as I snap away. Beefcake! Snap. Arm down. Snap. Try to look comfortable. Snap. OK.
Your turn, Hubby says. I suppress an inward groan. The camera hates me.  Over there in that large group of pillars that looks a bit like a throne. OK. I pick my way over across a rock pool, narrowly avoiding overbalancing. I sit and try to look poised and happy. Trying to remember my pose and frame of mind for the photos up on the lookout at Standley Chasm years ago, they turned out OK. Eventually satisfied we start to pick our way back to the road, losing each other in the process. I'm thinking Hubby is still on the rocks  but I can't see him. I thought he was behind me. While I wait I see a couple taking each other's photo so offer to take one of them together. They offer to return the favour. That's lovely of you, I am here with my husband, but I don't know where he is at the moment. They are lovely enough to encourage me to find him they are happy to wait. He's not actually far away. He'd gone more directly towards the bus from our photo shoot.  Couple shot done. We get talking and it turns out these guys have been to Iceland. Really? I pick their brains shamelessly.
Well, it's time to go. Do we go over and queue up for the bus? I'd like to walk over towards the other bay a bit. One foot after the other eventually we're at the point of no return and we're committed to walking back up the hill. Oh. THERE's camel rock. Yes, it does look like a camel doesn't it, from the right angle anyway.

The one that got away...

I've been feeling like we did the right thing walking, we may even beat the bus back, but then, as if it just knew when I was at my most psychologically vulnerable, where the incline is most acute, it whizzes past. It's really not that bad a walk, but it does make most sense to walk DOWN.
We cool off in the exhibition and learn our predilection for doing things the wrong way round today extends to the exhibition too. BEFORE you go out to the site, DO check out the huge model of the site that shows in relief the paths and how they go around the site. That would be handy to know ahead of tme.

Check out the model of the causeway in the exhibition before going to the causeway rocks

Another of the items I got a lot out of was the listing of other similar features around the world. Staffa we have seen. It's absolutely wonderful. There's another in Iceland which we hope to see one day. Then a message to friends on Whatsapp. Who among us has been to Fingal Head in New South Wales? Out of seven of us, 4 have been to the Giant's Causeway. 2 of those have been to Staffa as well. Both well over 24 hours of flying and then hours of driving to get to them. For Staffa chuck in a couple of boats as well. None of us have been to Fingal Head - to which we could drive in a little more than one working day. Fingal Head goes on our group trip list.
I like the way the exhibition picks local people and talks about their relationship with this place. That's a nice touch. But time now for lunch. We decide to share a toasted bap and that proves to be ample.
So, what's next? Do we continue along the coast? Off to the Dark Hedges. That's about 25 minutes inland from here. Coming from the coast we arrive first at the Dark Hedges Experience which has been set up by a nearby hotel. This offers plenty of parking, a safe route through gardens to the hedges, and costs a couple of pounds. Seems fair.

It's raining lightly as we head in and pay and the ground is damp. They've tried to make the walk interesting for kids too, so it's a bit of an adventure. At the road of the Dark Hedges, there's big signs saying you are not allowed to drive in or park there. This hasn't stopped quite a few people. It's getting a bit beyond a joke though and then another car comes to drive in and park, a number of people go to them and tell them you're not allowed to park here and there's parking down the road a bit. They say they know.

There's a steady stream of people walking the length of the hedges. We spark up a bit of chatting with a couple of young women. We do photos for each other after we've waited for other people to get far enough away to be out of shot.  It's a pleasant avenue. Sheep graze quietly in the fields nearby. Gracehill house is visible in the distance. The Dark Hedges must have been planted as part of the approach to the house all those hundreds of years ago. Our Dark Hedges Experience ticket entitles us to wander the grounds of the house, but we don't really want to allocate the time to that. The rain has held off as we've soaked up the brooding atmosphere under the trees but it's settling in now. I'm starting to feel the consequences of all the walking we've done today so Hubby heads back to get the car and I hang around near the end of the Hedges where he can collect me easily and quickly.
So, what now? Do we head back to the coast? What time is it? I check relative distances on googlemaps. OK, let's go knock over Seamus Heaney Home Place today, it's only 45 minutes from here but an hour from Derry. That'll mean we don't drive tomorrow and can take our time in Derry. Really I think it's more realistic logistically from here. It's a deal. Let's go.
It's a pleasant drive across pretty countryside to Bellaghy. The town itself looks very nice and today (Friday) there's ample parking available by the museum. The building is a modern construction, in a style sympathetic to both it's physical context and the nature of the poet's work. Seriously, the standard of presentation of venues and sites in the UK is really something to be very proud of.

We wander in with our broad Aussie accents and buy our tickets. The staff are very helpful and welcoming and a lady comes and makes a point of explaining to us what there is to see.
The first section downstairs focusses on Seamus's family, friends and aquaintences that appear in or have inspired his poems.  It includes the words of living family along the way and relevant poems are printed alongside the photos of the people and some information about them.  I have deliberately deferred reading anything of Heaney until after we came here. I was hoping that this place would be something similar to the birthplace of John Clare, in which case I wanted the maximum impact from the presentation. I am not disappointed.

 The first poem I read in full is Door Into the Dark, about the forge near his home. Heaney's poetry is very accessible, all the more so because he's contemporary and his natural mode of speech is that of ourselves, words selected and rhythmed to wonderful effect.
Emerging from the first section, the lady we spoke with earlier comes over to talk and see how we're getting on. We have a lovely chat about the Home Place and how much we're enjoying it.  I ask some questions about whether perceptions and controversy accompanied the choice of location, this being a farming community not on the typical tourist trail. We can relate, we had similar issues raised when an Arts Centre was proposed for our local community many years ago, ours being perceived as being more interested in sports and in need of sports facilities than an art gallery. Yet it was so successful it had to be expanded.  Fortunately for this Home Place, Heaney's family had the final say. The museum in his honour should be where Seamus was from and where so much of his inspiration was drawn. Right decision.
We head upstairs around a void where there hangs an installation of black words on white tiles hanging, leaping in mind as you climb around them. The commentary of the museum is equal to it's subject. Exploring in thoughtful silence, every space is utilised, every word is used to focus on and connect you to the nature of poetry and the poet soul hidden within us all. What do your memories smell like? Can you imagine a new colour? The presentation adds value to the poetry and to my life.
And what can you say about the works of a Nobel Laureate poet that have not been bettered by those that explained why he was elected to that cohort.

Yep, that sums up Seamus Heaney's work beautifully

We move across to the little reading library, as usual we are sorry that we can't give this place a little more time. We have at least had ample time in those parts that cannot be done at distance. Pinned to the wall, a chart allows for visitors to place a star indicating their favourite work from Heaney's 1966 collection of poetry, Death of a Naturalist. Mid Term Break is a clear winner, and it's hardly surprising given the subject matter, an exploration of the experience and events around the death of his younger brother. Cards and pens invite us to provide a comment on our experience of the poetry and the museum. I'm just blown away. This home place was worth the drive over and more. For me, this is absolutely an Ireland must do. How can one truly experience a country with a lyrical soul and not include at least some time connecting with it and gaining insight from it. 

Quickly before closing, we head downstairs to the gift shop. I want my first book of Heaney's poetry to have been purchased at this place and where better to start than with a copy of Death of a Naturalist. The Home Place is on the ball. As we pay we are given the opportunity to have our book stamped indicating it was purchased at the Seamus Heaney Home Place. Perfect.
It's raining as we walk out, but as Hubby heads directly to the car, I make a quick detour to have a super quick look at the outdoor garden where the museum has a presentation of some outdoorsy things referenced in the poetry. There's even chooks cluck clucking in a little yard. Late in the season this is a bit ramshackle and I don't have time to do it justice, hurrying through and moving on to join Hubby. Driving away we pass the street front for the museum, so I call for a return and a stop to get a proper photo before heading to the close of our day.

 But where now? It's about an our to Derry directly and that would take us over Burntollet Bridge. Or do we lengthen our driving and head back a similar distance and pick up where we left off on the coast while there's still light? The voices of all those that have told me we must see Dunluce Castle ring in memory and for better or worse we head back to the coast.
It's raining by the time we arrive, low clouds hastening the twighlight effects. We're too late to be able to explore Dunluce Castle but it can be seen, what I can only assume is fairly well from the road. The failing light reflects our energy level. It wasn't crazy to go to Bellaghy, but it probably was to come back to Dunluce Castle, at least for people like us who already have Dunnottar Castle on our travel trophy shelf. I program the TomTom for the address of the Shipquay Hotel and settle back for the drive to Derry. I've had it for today.

We cross the River Foyle as night is closing in, the lights are shining in the wetness of the rain. We park in the street and check in to our room before moving the car down to a local shopping centre carpark where the hotel has an arrangement for guests at a discounted rate. There's noone here to take our prepayment, so that will demand a return tomorrow. We raise our hoods and head back past the Guildhall in the rain, droplets on the camera lens create false moons on our captured memories, as our initial exploration whets our appetite for tomorrow. 

 

Tired as we are, we are grateful that the hotel has a well rated in-house restaurant. Even more grateful once the delicious food arrives. Every dish includes a beautiful balance of flavours and textures, dessert is rich and comforting. No winner is declared among the competitors, the kitchen wins this event. 

Donegal Smoked Salmon Roulade, creamed cheese, prawn and spring onion

Pan Fried Scallops, smoked pancetta broth, crispy sourdough

Rainbow Trout. Pan fried fillet of rainbow trout, smoked seafood & kale parcel,
saute capers, black cabbage with an almond butter & tomato emulsion

Pan-fried fillet of Fermanagh Duck, served with smoked duck and leek pie,
fondant potato, crispy kale & cranberry orange jus

Pear Sticky Toffee Pudding with vanilla bean ice cream