Snodge's subjective travel blog: 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.