Day 9 - Silent Valley - Murlough NNR - Castle Ward and GoT Archery Movie Set Experience

Wednesday, 23 September 2019
This morning we head off from Cherryhill Lodge and naturally the manifesto has a large range of enticing options with which we can occupy our time. Our only rock solid commitment is the Archery Movie Set Experience at Castle Ward so we need to aim to be on the estate by 3 pm at the latest.
We have a lovely chat with our hostess and I finalise payment, slipping into the mix an A3 print of a photo of the South Prom with waves taken by a local photographer. Hubby's as unsure as I am of how much of a pain that's going to be to get home undamaged but hey, where there's a will there's a way.
Despite the manifesto I'm determined to replace my lost photographs of the High Mournes so that's first on our agenda, manifesto notwithstanding. We catch the mountains in a different mood, white cloud swirling around the peaks, giving the impression of defensive cover for angels as they complete some earthly task.

 There's very few opportunities to pull over. Gateways provide one of the most reliable spots for passing or getting a quick view through to the countryside. 

The colour palette in the High Mournes provides a contrast to the milder pastures in the lower altitudes. Brown and blue are softened by the caressing drifts of cloud.

We could retrace our steps of a few days ago and make the turn to head down past the dam wall, but conscious of the time, we continue on our current direction back down towards Silent Valley. Transported to the scenic driving routes you could easily be forgiven for imagining that you're in Scotland, making me think again of our time driving the high country of the Isle of Mull in search of the big 3 raptors. The road curves through the mountains providing lovely optical illusions and sudden intakes of breath as a previously invisible view is revealed, all the more beautiful in the changing light as the clouds darken or lift. Who needs clear skies!

Faced with the decision once again, whether to go in to Silent Valley I make the call and essentially shred the opportunity for any meaningful time in Downpatrick today. A choice I am not destined to regret. Silent Valley Mountain Park is based around the water reservoir and much of the infrastructure dates from the period where construction was underway, to ensure the availability of clean water. 

 I don't think you could ever tire of travelling down the beautiful avenues of trees that are such a lovely feature of the forest parks we've visited. Lush and green, moist and shady. They are so beautiful.

Entrance drive to Silent Valley Mountain Park

 At the carpark, there's a few cars but midweek in late September it's fairly quiet. The entrance to the short nature trail lures me on, not really making a clear decision, simply curious steps one after the other until it can only be accepted that you have set out.

Shrubs continue to flower. I stop to admire the Bell Heather with it's tiny burgundy highlighted pink bells, it's dainty beauty almost belies its status as a top 5 performer for nectar production. 

 Interesting signals reveal information about the vegetation along the trail. A devout evangelist has shoved religious pamphlets into the display, now wet and simply acting as litter, we clean them out as we pass.

 The path is fairly quiet with not a huge amount of birdsong, though I think perhaps that calling is the robin red breast, who hangs around all year. Hubby's getting slightly ahead of me but I call his attention and point out the Mourne wall, climbing what looks from here to be an incredibly steep gradient. It really is a marvel, though really, the stone walls everywhere are simply amazing.

Not long after, we pass a patch of a fascinating plant I've never seen before. Look at this! I wonder what it is.

 We cross back over the Kilkeel River, to head on the return path. Hubby corrects me at an intersection where I've failed to notice the changed colour of the arrows marking the different trails. We have the option to turn and look at the ghost village from 1930s but we have other places to be so I come back to the path of righteousness and we make for the car.

 We can't leave without taking a look at the lake which is not quite visible from the car park. Its a lovely scene and I'm distracted by a couple of Mandarin ducks that are hanging out with the mallards. Gosh, I've only ever seen these in zoos. Aren't they stunning. I hang about as they wander among the group, telepathically willing them to move out on their own and together. This will have to do. A Scandinavian accented family walk past with their youngest in a pram. We head over to take a comfort stop before we get back on the road.

As we drive along the lovely entrance road, back out of Silent Valley, it's just as well we're keeping to the speed limit. A short way ahead of us a little scrap of red fur and tail dashes across the roadway. "OH MY GOD! WAS THAT A RED SQUIRREL?" I shriek. "STOOOOOP!" Hubby pulls over and puts on the hazard lights. I dash from the car and head then slow, quietly approaching where the squirrel ran towards the trees. I spot it on the trunk of a pine, playing games with a second squirrel as they ascend to safety spiralling around the trunk with the most incredible agility until well out of sight and I can only sigh in satisfaction and head back to the car.  Squirrels are SO awesome. I just LOVE squirrels.
My prime objective now is to get a photo of the stone walls that shows the size and shape of the boulders used in their construction. Our first opportunity comes at the large entrance of property, but the wall is not typical. Way too fancy and it's obvious some sort of mechanical cutting has been done to prepare the stones to top the walls. We keep on and eventually we find a spot where we can safely stop and I can get the car in for scale.

A little later we come to the carpark that was crowded with cars when last we passed this way. Now empty we pull in and read the information boards about the grazing of cattle and sheep on these slopes since ancient times. The wall opposite allows me to capture the gappy nature of the walling.

 Moving on I'm fascinated to see an area of ground which I imagine must be what so much of this landscape looked like before generation upon generation of hard labour to clear the fields of rock, enclosing pastures with walling or selling the quarried stone, left this incredible patchwork of neat green squares stretching as far as the eye can see.

Contrasted with the lush pastures of today. I wonder how much thought people here give to the legacy that their forebears have provided. I suppose you would mostly just be getting on with things and take it for granted.

My intended images safely recorded, we head along the Mourne Coastal Route. The amazingly unusual site of a well made parking spot with sculpture and signs declares we have reached Bloody Bridge, and entices us to pull over once more.  There's a tempting coastal path. The calls of a large flock of sea birds over the ocean nearby draws my attention. There's a furious frenzy of competition for some, no doubt edible, prize. The birds gradually disperse and a flock of what appears to be first year or juvenile Herring Gulls settles on the rocks. 

My attention returns to gaining a better understanding of what has led to this spot receiving such an investment in infrastructure. The name of both bridge and river have been derived from an incident at the bridge so savage that it was said the river ran red for 7 days. If that's not enough, there's also tales of smugglers on their way to the famous Brandy Pad through the Mournes and geological characteristics to examine and admire. I'm sorely tempted to take the walk to the bridge and along the coast. We walk at least as far as the end of the carpark and peer towards the indicated location of the bridge, apply substantial camera zoom in the hope that there is a short cut for time poor or lazy tourists. It appears not. 

Our next stop is at Murlough National Nature Reserve, an area of special scientific interest. At first Hubby decides he'll leave me to it, when I say I'll just pop out and do a reccie, but in the end I take so long he parks the car properly, pays and displays and heads in to join me on the nature trail. Despite the underlying base of sand, the walking is easy due to the installation of a board walk. The dunes are well vegetated and at one point along the trail, where paths join in a near approximation to a large scale peace sign, the Devil's Bit Scabious is at the closing stages of an abundant flowering creating a sea of dainty purple exclamation marks interspersed with so many spent flower heads dancing merrily in the breeze.

The heather too, is fading, the brown of the old flowers blending almost imperceptibly with a flush of remaining purple in the tiny bells. Although the terrain is more dramatic here, the dune environment brings back happy memories, deeply imprinted, of walking through the flowering heather at Forvie NNR in coastal Aberdeenshire. We were lucky then, a long cold and wet summer delayed flowering of the heather so that we could see its bloom at it's height over the weeks of our visit. Memory makes it easy to imagine how spectacular the colour and fragrance of the heather in the dunes of Murlough must have been just  few short weeks ago.  Coupled with the scabious, my goodness, how delightful it must have been.

Nearing the ocean, the path breaks through to the open strand. The view down to the Newcastle seafront is obscured by the gauzy veil of moisture in the air. The mountain backdrop tucked in under a duvee of fluffy white.

The mood to the north-east is brighter, you could walk for hours were you not subject to the dictatorial demands of a long haul itinerary.

I wait for a while in the hope that Hubby will have caught me, but eventually turn to begin retracing my steps in search of him. We meet back along the path and he heads on for a look at the beach, having come this far it would be a shame to miss it. It would have actually made sense to walk down along the beach and do the full loop back to the car park as indicated on the sign I paid too little attention to.

In no need of hurrying I spend a while stalking a couple of little birds, perhaps stone chats, first seen perching in lookout position on a beach front shrub, spooked by the scary walker they flit back to a rounded stronghold further in among the dunes. Like birds everywhere they put themselves between me and the light making both photography and identification difficult. Eventually I give it up. 

Stands of fading rosebay willow herb bring another smile of memory. It's not long before we're back at the car, I make for the facilities and an opportunity to admire the striking colour of the little cafe building, now at rest after the busy summer season.

Back on the road, we decide to actually live the mantra "less is more" and head directly over to Castle Ward, not quite quick enough on the draw to get a good shot of the farmer leading a cow in the roundabout at Clough. They look like characters from the Wizard of Oz. Our route also takes us through Downpatrick, which we find is a much bigger place than I had imagined. We're intent on our destination, though I do take the time to point out to Hubby the opportunities we are missing by just whizzing through.
We have been forewarned that it's a bit of a trek to the Winterfell location from the entrance to the estate. We have arrived with what seems like plenty of time to get a bite of lunch and hopefully also tour the house before our booked archery session. Happily parked, we walk briskly over to the house and courtyard. The weather is starting to close in and Hubby's keen to get lunch, if only he could drag his woman out of the garden.

Tricyrtis formosana or Toad Lily

Now what on earth is this?

I'm enjoying the autumn flowers, a robust stand of Nerines, a clump of striking toad lillies, bright yellow and black Rudbeckia and a most remarkable plant in the shape of a spikey ball, that I've no idea what it is, but not before I've spent a little while indulging an obsession for photographing insects, in this case a bee wallowing in the lovely pinkness of a Japanese anemone.

I tear myself away and head to the courtyard and the cafe, enjoying the bright autumn colours of the Boston Ivy blanketing the walls.

I love the beautiful coordination between the wooden door shutters and
the colour of the autumn reds of the Boston Ivy. Beautifully done.

Just the place to curl up when it's cold and wet outside

The cafe is cosy, with an eclectic decor of re-used furniture and a book re-homing space. There's a limited range of food options so we each select a pre-packed sandwich and we share a sausage roll which turned out to be surprisingly good. That's a bit uncharitable really. The sausage roll was first class, the centre filled with what seemed like soft pork sausage.

The house at Castle Ward

We don't have infinite time before we need to be back over for the tour of the house, so we're gobbling the food and then I go across and get directions where we're supposed to be while Hubby tends to business. We need to get up to the Victorian Porch and this involves trusting my memory and sense of direction around some corners and up some paths which if I've mucked it up could be taking me further from our destination, but it's fine, we're on the right path and we make a point of using their "toilet brush" boot scraper before assembling with a few others in the porch out of the rain. We let the guide know that we need to be at Winterfell by 4 pm and it's all good, she'll make sure we're out on time.
The house is interesting, most old dwellings are aren't they. This one has a distinctly split personality and associated design curiosities. In our first, beautifully ornate room we hear cautionary tales of consequences associated with rushing your craftsmen before move on, along the way admiring the tasteful decor and some very nice pieces of furniture that includes a very striking red tortoiseshell cabinet and a curiously low courting seat with space for four.  As we move to the rear of the house and into a marked stylistic change, we get to a room that someone once suggested had a ceiling like a cow's udder, not without justification (really, you just need to see it). In a bedroom we hold a little guessing competition what this green baize covered item might be (no spoilers here!) the result sparks some surprised reactions. The antique contents of a cupboard draw fascinated faces to peer intently, people remarking on this medicament or that and we're off to the downstairs areas.
The Housekeeper's room is pretty impressive and we talk of the career choices and benefits for women in such roles. The table is set for guests nearby a huge cabinet with lockable drawers and doors, control of which was a fundamental part of the housekeeper's role. I'll leave it for the tour to explain what was kept in the cabinet. I could continue at length describing the tour and the fascinating items they have to show visitors, but as these attractions and the entry fees charged are the source of income for maintaining the property, I'm going to stop here for my online reminiscences. Suffice to say, it's a very interesting tour and the house is very well presented.
True to promise, our guide has us walking down the amazing servant's tunnel that connected the house to the work areas of the property including the laundry, we follow the wear in the sandstone caused by the passage of workers along the shortest route over many years.  We've only a very brief opportunity to admire the laundry and then we need to make a dash for Winterfell.

The Ax throwing range

Don't make the mistake we did, allow plenty of time at Castle Ward, I'd say try to allocate the whole day. 

It's about 10 mins walk down to Winterfell, it's an interesting walk that I regret having to rush. It wouldn't need a LOT more time than we have to give it but a more relaxed pace  and frame of mind would have been nice. As we go the rain is increasing intensity anyway. On arrival in the area of the Adventure Tours I'm quite surprised by the extent of it and the opportunities we've missed for browsing and exploring the buildings by not allocating more time to Castle Ward Estate today. That's a shame to have missed. We work our way past the bike hire looking for where we're supposed to be and find it as the heavens open. Wind, heavy rain. Great timing.
A brief chat with some other patrons from North America who are curious as to where we are from and what we're doing in Ireland, we stow our bags and the water wimp camera in a locker and we head in for the indoor elements of the experience, fingers crossed the weather eases up a bit.  Each year they map the places from where their customers have travelled. We add our pins to the sparsely populated Australian continent. Then there's a video presentation that shows how the original buildings on this site where supplemented by set construction and CGI. HBO of course must leave every filming location as they found it so the constructed sets have now been removed, but the archery range is still in the area as it was located. screened off from passers by. Time now to don our authentic Game of Thrones extras costumes, complete with capes, a small amount of tutelage involved throughout. Feeling very authentic it's time to decide a location for a quick portrait. The rain continues to lash the site, so we head into the Dothraki feasting tent and make ourselves comfy for the photographs.  There followed some discussion about our attitude to the weather and options we could take, but at the critical moment the rain eases and we confidently assert that we are in fact waterproof anyway. Lets DO it! Out we go.

We line up along a log where there it's all set up with a tub of arrows and holes in the log where we can keep our ammo. We are each handed what looks like a fairly high tech bow, and our lovely guide proceeds to teach us how to load and fire it. We get plenty of practice accompanied by a mix of serious concentration and laughter then it's time for competition.  Would we like to make a bet to spice up the action? We struggle to think of something. I know, the loser plans the next holiday! Eventually I suggest that it's no point making a bet because as world champion level bickerers, the bet will just become the focus of bickering about what the bet actually was. We give a bickering demonstration to prove it and it's settled. Loser will suffer the traditional fate of beheading. Right, here we go. We've both had mixed success. I had an early bullseye in the training sessions, but I am wildly inconsistent, because that issue I have with my back and shoulders doesn't do me any favours drawing the bow, and then I tend to overthink it anyway. Hubby is more steady so overall fares a bit better.  As we compete, our guide mans the phone capturing still photos and videos for us. Our practice results are also reflected in the competition. Hubby wins. I'm obliged to head to the block, and really, I think he looked like he was enjoying the role of executioner a lot more than is seemly.  As the victim of the exercise I make a complaint that he's striking the back of my head rather than my neck and I'd prefer a clean kill if that's ok. This I am informed is because he didn't want to slash my furry bits (... of my cloak people, of my cloak).  I have to say, this whole archery thing is SO much fun. We had an absolute ball. You absolutely do NOT need to be someone who watches GoT. It would be great for any person with a sense of fun. Rain shmain, it didn't matter one jot. Winterfell Archery Experience was absolutely fantastic.
Time now to remove our costumes, another exercise for which some tutelage is required. Roles are reversed, when putting clothes on it was Hubby who needed the help, the value of a balanced partnership is demonstrated as we find that in the undressing stakes it's Hubby who has the more advanced skillset and he offers his assistance as we make a few inappropriate jokes.
I think I've reached the limits of my walking and use of back and shoulders today, so I hang around the lower car park near Winterfell while Hubby walks up in the rain to get the car and collect me. Left to my own devices in light rain I head to the waterfront to get some photos there, fantasising about a return to this lovely place to do some more exploration. I wish we'd been able to do the GoT Boat Trip, that would be brilliant. If ever we do get back to Ireland with friends, we simply have to come back to Castle Ward and Winterfell.
All that's left today now is to head across to Strangford and check in to the Cuan. The rain has settled back in but once the room is settled, we head across the square to the Lobster Pot for dinner. We're pretty early for dining so we get our choice of tables. Near the window is nice. Time to order, we find that the delivery of lobster has not arrived. We're so shocked we forgot to photograph our meals! Haha not really, I think we were just on such a high from Winterfell we relaxed to the extent where we were just chatting and not thinking about it. To start Hubby is predictable and goes for the Local Seafood and Shellfish Chowder (Smoked Bacon, leeks, Comber Potatoes, Homemade Guinness Wheaten) (delicious), while I'm taking the opportunity to try the Steamed Strangford Lough Mussells (in Garlic, Parsley & White Wine Cream with Rosemary red onion Focaccia) these were tiny, tender and flavoursome, really, I think easily the nicest and most enjoyable mussels I've ever had, and I've had some good mussels over the years. Well that was a great start.
For mains: Hubby goes ahead with the Lobster, Prawn and Mussell Rigatoni (in a Chilli, Garlic & Parsley Cream with Parmesan) sans Lobster of course. Still great. I opt for the Ardglass Battered Scampi (with garden peas and hand cut chips) which was also very good, though it's hard to better the steamed mussells. For dessert we couldn't resist sharing a Sticky Toffee Pudding - that was totally up to standard also. What a great meal. A great way to end an awesome day.