Day 18 - The Titanic Quarter, Ginger Bistro and Saturday Night Fever at the Grand Opera House

Wednesday 2 October 2019
We still have our car. I ummed and aahed about when to return it. we don't really NEED it in Belfast, but perhaps it might be handy. Oh, I don't know. We don't have to return it until Friday,  and we don't have time to faff about returning it so for now it's staying where it is. We head out from the Premier Inn, admiring the beautiful old building in ruins that is next door, just screaming potential. I think we were told it is to be converted into a hotel. It should make a beautiful hotel.

Crossing the road intending to walk down to the Salmon of Knowledge and see how we go for walking across to the Titanic Experience, I notice a Jessop's camera store. Right, that's just too convenient and they are already open. Plans are quickly changed. We talk to the guy serving and walk out with a new memory card and a sandisk card reader. Fingers and toes all crossed my little waterproof Lumix should be back in action in time for the driving in the Lake District. That's set us back a little for time, we're in plenty of time for our Discovery Tour booking but now we'll need to drive over and pay parking fees. Que sera sera. Just as well we still have the car.
Titanic Belfast is the attraction in Northern Ireland I've looked forward to the longest, but to be honest, despite great reports from friends I'm not really sure what to expect. I don't like doing things by halves, so we have booked the White Star Premium Pass and I've booked the first possible Discovery Tour intending that to be our first thing and explore the rest of the attractions afterwards. I was fascinated by the Titanic as a teenager and read books and watched movies, but that was a long time ago. 

We claim our passes and head over to the assembly point, never one to stand still for long, I give the gift shop a quick look, then hurry back as the guide arrives and commences the introduction. Well, how can I adequately convey how essential it is to do the Discovery walking tour of Titanic Belfast? I can say it is "must do" and it is, but those assessments are sometimes quite subjective. I would say, it is IMPOSSIBLE to fully appreciate this site if you do not do the walking tour. Yes, the Titanic Experience is impressive and the ride through the construction area very very good, but the walking tour adds SO much value to all of that. Also, the Titanic Experience is contructed, the walking tour takes you into the Harland and Wolf offices, where sales pitches were delivered, power plays indulged in and sometimes tragic decisions taken. Light filled rooms make working as a designer for the company look like a delightful way to earn a living. The standard of beauty of the offices was part of the sales pitch, so they are very beautiful spaces. 

We learn about the symbolism within the design of the staircases here and on those used on the Titanic. We learn about the scale of the ship building industry here in belfast, right into the time of the second world war. Importantly we also learn about the sacrifice made by the people of Belfast in an effort to protect the shipyard from bombing. Out and about on site we learn about the site and are given exercises to do that impress upon us the almightly enormity of the scale of the gantries constructed to build the Olympic class ships.

This really takes some effort to get your head around. We bust a number of myths. We acknowledge Alexander Carlisle, the real designer of the Olympic Class ships, a brave man who quit rather than remove enough life boats for every soul on board from his design. Finally we learn about the architecture of the Titanic Experience building itself and just some of the vast number of symbolic features built into the fabric of the place. Please note, despite what some walking tour guides say, the design does NOT represent an iceberg. Everything about it is intended to pay respect to the workers who built her, the lives lost in her sinking and her legacy. How crass and offensive would it be to memorialise the iceberg that sank her? We stand where we are told when we are told to note the alignment of light down through the building and onto the dock where Titanic was built. We note that even the seats we can see below are sized and arranged so that they replicate the distress message sent out by the Titanic that fateful night. Really, DO NOT go to Titanic Belfast without doing the walking tour.

Alexander Carlisle

Our guide impressed upon us that we must not miss visiting the Nomadic, miss lunch sooner than miss Nomadic. OK, yes Nomadic is definitely high on my list of priorities but we're not missing lunch either. We are learning to be wary of the portion sizes and share a sandwich and salad between us before we head over to Titanic's original tender.

Does this look enormous? It was!

Walking across to the Nomadic I finally learn what a caisson is! I have seen them mentioned and no doubt looked up what it is but seeing one is still an enlightening experience.  I walk around to the wrong side for entry causing some confusion for Hubby. Where are you going?  I need to put the light behind me for a photograph. 

The Nomadic had an interesting life well beyond her use as a tender with the White Star Line, but she's been restored as closely to her time servicing Titanic as possible. A big investment has been made in her presentation, hologram characters serve at the bar and shovel coal to the boiler. Racks of period clothing are available for people to try, examples of luggage and their contents are on display. There's even a little movie room set up. The Nomadic, like the Olympic class ships had different spaces for different classes of passenger. We take our time, examing everything closely. After about an hour we've had our fill. Hubby decides to use the toilet. Initially I wait then figure, yeah, that's not a bad idea. Emerging in wonderment I ask my one and only question of the visit. "Are the toilets original?"  The crew member smiles and gives a little laugh and says "That's one of the most frequently asked questions. Yes they are!"  We share a moment or two of mutual amazement. Here's my tip for when you visit the Nomadic: Go and at least look at the toilets. 

Now, the rest of our afternoon is devoted to the exhibition. We've no time to waste. On entry our Premium White Star Pass entitles us to a free photograph each. There's luggage for us to pose with. Hubby's a bit of a spoil sport, refusing to carry a suitcase, but at least he stands there and the snap is taken. The exhibition begins with displays about boomtown Belfast, Linen capital of the world. I enjoy the interesting displays of flax seed and harvested flax alongside samples of linen at different points in the process of making the fine thread. Later I particularly appreciated the section on the price paid by the workers for the building of the great ships. 254 accidents were recorded during the building of Titanic and 8 people died. Industrial deafness was also a problem due to the very noisy environment.  At appropriate sections the display has the feel of an industrial gantry and we're funnelled into the queue for the Shipyard Ride. This is a little carriage that is carried down in among granty framework where you are shown rivetters at work among other things. It's brilliant. 

The intention of the layout is that you proceed from context through construction and launch and on to fitout with reproductions of cabins as they were furnished. The whole thing is fascinating and very well done. In one area they have a loop playing that gives a virtual tour through the ship climbing from boilers up staircases. People watch transfixed others hold cameras steady for video. 

As we are working our way through the section that covers the sinking, we are starting to run out of time. A staff member comes through and warns us that there's still a couple of levels to go in the exhibition and only a short time to closing. We've been spending our time here in this most moving of galleries. It can consume a considerable amount of time. Luckily the thing I'm least interested in is in the final galleries - the rediscovery of the Titanic deep beneath the North Atlantic. After a quick look I decide to just max the time in the sinking section and skip that last couple of sections.  

We narrowly avoid missing picking up our free photographs, but we're too late for the shop.

By the time we get back to the car, we figure we may as well go straight to dinner because we have show tickets and dinner needs to be out of the way early. It takes us a little while to find parking, a bit more time to deal with the pay and display and then of course a short walk across to the Ginger Bistro, has us sitting down just after 6 o'clock. Luckily we're early and we can have a table in the bar area near the entrance. A little banter with our waiter, who demonstrates his knowledge of Australian beers by telling us they don't have any Little Creatures we agree that the barman can invent me a nice, still mocktail.  Hubby orders the French Onion Soup with cheese croutons and home made bread, while I play it safe with their best selling for over a decade, Ginger's Squid and dips. Both delicious and apparently fairly stable on the menu as is Hubby's Fish Pie. 

Hmm, I think this mocktail involved apple juice and ginger. It was delicious!

My meal was also very good, but once again we forgot to photograph the menu and being a quality restaurant the menu appears to have changed since so the photo of my half eaten meal is our only reminder. Such a sad first world problem.  Treacle pudding with Toffee sauce shared between us was also delicious. Ginger Bistro was a great choice. 

We are out and heading for the Grand Opera House in plenty of time to take our (excellent) seats for tonights' performance of Saturday Night Fever. I'm wondering how much I'll enjoy this to be honest. I'm generally not that into musicals or for that matter the music. I liked it OK when it was first released and saw the movie on its original release but haven't seen it since. 

There was no need to worry, Saturday Night Fever the Musical is a great night's entertainment, very energising and the music is great. The star of the show is apparently well known in these parts, but I was a bit surprised at the disparity between the applause for him compared to the other cast members. His was much greater, yet he didn't seem to be putting in his best effort on the dance numbers. He was making the moves OK but it didn't seem effortless and his moves weren't snappy and sharp. John Travolta's shoes are hard to fill I suppose. The women on the other hand, Annette and Stephanie were superb as was the supporting cast. 

We make a point of crossing over to poke our nose inside the Crown Saloon, and I snap a photo of the Europa Hotel, which suffered a lot from bomb attacks during the Troubles. Then discretion is the better part of valour and we decide we'd best head home for a good night's sleep. Lord knows, tomorrow will be another busy day, which I guess I should say, is how we generally like it! 

Day 17- Belleek Pottery, Marble Arch Caves, Marlbank Scenic Drive and on to Belfast

Tuesday 1 October 2019
OK, so today breakfast needs some solid attention because I saw the most extraordinary thing. We pop down to Cedars and are seated at the same table we had last night, so feeling right at home. We collect or order or food, I'm enjoying the delicious granola. As we're talking I glance across and find there's a lady at a nearby table. She has a croissant in hand and she's slathering it thickly with butter. What on earth! Croissants are literally made by rolling butter into the dough over and over until it can't take any more. She takes a bite then puts the buttered croissant on her side plate as what looks like Eggs Benny is delivered for her enjoyment. I'm now obsessed with seeing if she actually eats that croissant. I'm not staring, just keeping a discrete observation via occassional glances. She doesn't go near the croissant for a while and I almost think she's abandoned it as an act of folly but then a pause in our conversation leads me to glance over again only to find her at the tail end of the croissant using it to sop up any remaining hollandaise sauce from her plate. Gosh. Buttery pastry, several mms of butter on it and then its dipped into a very oil rich sauce. Well, I observe to friends waiting with bated breath on Whatsapp, Travel truly is an educational experience. It had honestly never occurred to me to use a croissant in such a way. She seems to have enjoyed it.
It's no surprise that the manifesto has a long list of potential ways to spend our time today. I'm glad we generally wake early because it gives us time to take our time and enjoy where we are without rushing while still achieving a fairly early departure. I go through periods of thinking we should have just booked two nights here and skipped the overnight in Ardara, but reducing the driving across the days did make sense, I suppose.
On the way over to breakfast I'm delighted to see that there's fungi popping up in the lawn. Now the rain's stopped I'm very pleased to be able to wander about photographing the sculptures. Clearly the landscape designer here feels that there just can't be too much high quality bronze in the garden. I  have to say, it's hard to argue with that approach, especially while the plantings are still so young.

Having got into photo mode for the fungi I set out on a quest. I find I am not alone. and actually have to bide my time in a little queue of departing guests keen on getting the perfect angle for a photo of the dragon out on the lawn, the castle flying the Irish tricolour nicely framed in the background.

Breakfasted and ready to go, we call for someone to come and bring our luggage and of course, given the time of day there's a short wait for that. You really wouldn't be wanting to try to roll your suitcases across to reception over the gravel. Another little wait once we get to reception for someone to go and retrieve our car. How sad we are to be leaving here today. When we stayed at Helen's Tower we were told of a guy who flies over from the states just to stay there for a week and go home. I'd be tempted to do that at Lough Eske Castle Hotel, especially with a group of friends.

Back on the road, our first destination is Belleek Pottery. We haven't prebooked but I'm confident of being able to get a walk up place on the next tour. First impressions are interesting here. The building is simply enormous. Even crossing the street I can't get the whole thing in the one photograph. 

We don't have too long to wait, we and a group from a bus tour spend our waiting time browsing in the factory shop. My goodness how on earth do we decide from among all these lovely things.  

At the allotted time, our guide gathers us together and we embark on the tour. It's right up there for visitor experiences. Firstly we get the general history of course, our guide is very confident and articulate and clearly knows his subject matter. Then we're onto the factory floor. The whole area is clean and well organised, but also quiet and calm. We move from work station to work station where skilled artisans are calmly working away. Each person has a range of tasks they can do so they get variety during their day. Each of the crafts people is happy to talk to us as they work and answer questions, some more proactive in explaining what they are doing and why than others but none giving any sense that you are a nuisance. I suppose they know that these tours promote their product and goodwill and these combine to protect their jobs, still, the friendly welcome from everyone makes our visit not only very interesting but particularly enjoyable. Belleek Pottery has exceeded my expectations. Back out in the shop though, I still can't make up my mind. 

What I REALLY want is one of the little baskets we saw in production that are out of stock in the shop. Hubby's worried about trying to transport something so fragile given how little space we have in our carry on luggage now. But at least I've made my selection, at some point I will order one to be shipped to us. 

I am thinking this is an Aster. Very happy here in the cool damp climate of Ireland

The River Erne flows dangerously fast and deep under the bridge, looking very pretty with a stone building on a raised mound behind. 

Back on our way, we drive along the the Lough Shore Road, by green hedgerowed fields, and grazing sheep, comfortable looking homes with snatches of water, here and there passing through shortlived tunnels of green. Hubby takes the opportunity for a stop at the layby at Drumcrow East, where a little road heads down to a jetty and we can capture the view along Lower Lough Erne. Five minutes down the road Hubby makes another stop but there's not a lot to see until we turn to pull back out to the road and see that there's what I think must be a mature copper beech tree in full autumn colour. Worth the stop for that, but what a shame the light is all wrong for photographing it. We go on pretty purposefully, enjoying the drive. We're heading to Marble Arch Caves. We've not booked tickets and there's been a lot of rain which could impact the tours, but it's worth a stop in to see what's possible today. 

The carpark is almost empty when we arrive and we find when we go to buy tickets that the rain over recent days means that the cave tours are shortened and although the tour can take us down a little way where we can see the water, the tour will only take about 20 minutes. Price has been adjusted accordingly. Well we are here, so we may as well do it. We have a little while until the next tour so we amuse ourselves browsing in the gift shop. It's been amazing how varied the merchandise at the various attractions has been. Here they have a wonderful selection of stuffed toys that even includes poultry. Writing this, I regret not succumbing to temptation offered by the white leghorn chook. Gift shop exploration complete, I take a look at a series of displays showing the profile of the chambers and the history of the exploration of the caves.

Hubby's browsing at the cafe, but we've no time for eating before our tour. There's a few people assembled, our guide joins us and we head out. The route heads steeply down into a wrinkle in the earth via a flight of stairs. There's sheltered seats along the way which no doubt might come in handy on the way back. 

The entrance to the underground is protected by a little green covered stone bunker, then there's stairs down a tunnel of modern construction taking us deeper and deeper underground.  A lot of information is imparted as we head down the stairs and before we enter the tunnel because the roar of the water underground makes it difficult to hear. Ear plugs are on hand but we won't be in the noisiest section long so we shouldn't need them. It's perhaps a curious thing to be taking a cave tour if you're from Sydney. Not many places could outdo our local Jenolan Caves for crystal decoration but we enjoy cave tours and each one we've done has offered something different. Workers are cleaning the path of mud as we pass. The high point of the torrent of water is marked by froth up on the walls or ceiling. Along the way, even in these upper reaches of the system, there's examples of a range of crystal formations but they are mostly tiny. Nonetheless, I'm impressed at the comprehensive catalogue of formations they are able to talk about and show us in such a restricted exploration. It's interesting to see the variation in names for some of them. What we would call a shawl they call something else. 

The water is still too high to be able to do the boat trip. Marble Arch Caves is a totally different experience to the River Cave at Jenolan where the water moves so slowly the water is silent and crystal clear. What looks to be a shallow few inches of water is actually 3-4 metres deep and a hand print in the sand on the bottom of the river will stay clearly visible for many decades. Marble Arch Caves, today at least, feel more like the caves at Waitomo in New Zealand, where the black water rafters squeal and laugh as they bob along in their flotation rings to be admired by the pedestrian cave tourers above. 

The water and debris it sometimes carries can damage the crystal which here they say grows incredibly slowly. They used to say that in Australia too, but they've changed the discussion of that now because when they were opening a new spectacular show cave, Temple of Baal cave I believe it was, they built a new tunnel for access. During the work one of the men left a bottle behind and there it sat under a drip for some years - don't quote me but I think it was only about 5 years before they noticed that it was there and becoming covered in crystal, at any rate it was a very very short time in geological terms and they had to reconsider the orthodox view of how quickly crystal decorations form. By the time we were viewing it, the bottle had been there for some decades. Now they say at Jenolan that the speed with which the formations grow in a particular spot depends on a range of variable factors.  

Towards the latter part of our tour we stop and admire a large cascade of active flowstone. It's brown from the dissolved minerals, but I wonder if part of that is from the regular inundation and silt that comes with it. 

Our tour concluded, we climb back up to the visitor centre. I take a little break at the covered seat. It's a very pleasant spot to sit. Nicely verdant. We don't stop very long before continuing the climb back up to the visitor centre. Our guide has waited for us and takes a few minutes to chat to us about Australia. Like so many people we've met and spoken with he has close family now living in Australia. Then it's back into the gift shop where we stock up on funny coasters and placemats featuring amusing sheep related puns and suitable artwork. Love 'em. 

Ok, what shall we do next? Let's just take a quick run around the Marlbank Scenic Loop, it doesn't take long. Off we go and for much of the drive I'm wondering about what we're supposed to be seeing. Then we come to a viewpoint that explains why we're here. 

Done with exploring the Geopark we figure we'll head in to Enniskillen just briefly for a look at the castle. That should kill just enough time to put us in the right place and time for what has been judged as the best fish and chips in Northern Ireland. 

The parking in Enniskillen is easy today, there being a large car park right next to the castle. The thing that really tempts me is a large cathedral that we can see from the back. Look at that, are those flying buttresses?! How old is that? A bit of googling and I find that 1. St Michael's is Gothic Revival so 19th century and 2. They don't seem geared up for tourists. We head over and walk over the lawn. It's a beautiful spot by the River Erne. The rain has cleared and we've caught it in a sunny mood. It would be easy to linger in a cafe or with a picnic. Water taxis wait at the pontoon. Ooh, now an Erne Water Taxi tour would be a great thing to do.  We stroll around the path to the side of the castle, beautifully preserved and maintained. Banks of lights hint at the spectacle the lit castle must make at night. 

We do a stupidly short little wander through Enniskillen on our way on towards Belfast. We've not remotely done it justice I'm sure, but it's been a very pleasant stop. Now it's time to head to Dungannon and the Dolphin Takeaway, which has apparently been voted the best fish and chips in Northern Ireland three years running. Parking is no problem, we get a spot across the street. All we need to do is walk over. The shop is beautifully clean and well presented. There's signs about health ratings for some meal options. Hmm. Not sure that's a good indicator. We play it conservatively and just order one serve of cod and chips. We don't really want too much at this time of day and experience has shown serves can be very large. The order of a single serve is greeted with some surprise by the lady on the counter who's not sure she's heard us right. We wait while the food is cooked, a steady stream of customers coming in and out meanwhile. Taking possession of the warm cardboard box, we take our spoils back to the car keen to get a look. Both fish and chips need to jump a very very high bar of expectation. We've had fish and chips from the Anstruther Fish Bar and that was an almost life changing experience of delicious perfection, so this is definitely not going to be a walk in the park for the Dolphin Takeaway. 

...and the verdict is:  that sales pitch for healthy options was indeed the give away. I'm sure the chips have been cooked in vegetable oil. They're really disappointing. I couldn't be bothered persevering with those.  The fish is better, that's pretty good. Overall, it's similar to average outlets at home, but the chips need serious work. I'm glad I've tried it, but the scoring criteria for the competition must be a bit different from my own. This is a bit like house painting compared to the Anstruther Fish Bar's Mona Lisa. Friends tell us that their life changing chip experience was a little chippy in Sneem on the Ring of Kerry. Well. That's done. Nothing for it now but to head straight into Belfast. 

Belfast City Hall

Parking at the Premier in Cathedral Quarter is not on site, so Hubby drops me off with the luggage and he goes to park. I cannot say I particularly enjoyed manoevring the cases over carpet through 7, yes 7 firedoors of which almost all were closed, between reception and our room. We're over being out and about for today so dinner is what turns out to be delicious pizza from Pizza Punks across the street. 

Day 16 - Slieve League and Studio Donegal

Monday, 30 September 2019

This morning we're heading to the coast. We're trying to be a bit more restrained on the gluttony front. The delicious fresh breads on the breakfast buffet don't make that easy but I resist. The sweet dark brown wheaten breads in Ireland have been wonderful all along the way. I thought it would be the quality and variety of potato dishes available that created a key culinary memory, but no, it's the wheaten breads. 

It's yet another early start for us today because we've booked the first tour of the day with Sliab Liag Boat Trips. Paddy's warned us to allow plenty of time from Ardara because there's roadwork, so we're allowing what he suggested and more. Don't want to be late, there's some scenic driving along the way my research tells me.  The road ahead has us watching as a dense blanket of cloud sits along the crest of a range over to the west. 

I'm getting cocky, or perhaps it's fatigue from the long string of short stays. I didn't check the manifesto when we were leaving and somehow the name that popped into my head to program the navigation is Killybegs. We're a fair way progressed on the drive before I realise I should have been heading to Teelin. Ooops. Damn, we missed driving Glengesh Pass. I rationalise it away of course,  we've avoided the roadwork and the weather is fairly misty today, perhaps it's not great visibility through the pass. 

Approaching the Rusty Mackeral

We make the turns to Teelin and find our way around the water to Teelin Pier passing the Rusty Mackeral which looks so inviting with the artwork on the side of the building as we approach. 

Teelin Estuary/Harbour

It's cold and slightly damp and very quiet at the pier and we are little early. We watch the clouds drift over the peaks and wander around the area, admiring the shallow boats pulled into the lee of protectively solid walls. 

Teelin Harbour in the late 19th century was the leading cod fishing port in Ireland, landing even more fish than Killbegs in that great era of over fishing. Now, Teelin is better known for the quality of its fiddle playing, and perhaps Paddy's boat trips out to Slieve League. 

Teelin Pier

We get a hint as to the perils of a life on the water and the devout faith of the community as we contemplate a little glass cased alter with holy statue. A white van comes racing down the approach road and parks. Greetings and clarifications of identity. We board the boat. Paddy's waiting for some people who phoned last night that wan't us was it? It wasn't but we'll be a small party anyway. Paddy ducks off to do a bit of this and that while we wait so we disembark and prowl around for a while longer but eventually we're all here and heading out into the harbour, feeling very lucky that the conditions are so calm. 

The rocks of the coastline reflect a turbulent geological past. Layers of rock are broken and uplifted, or in other places look like roughly kneaded scone dough. Silver ribbons of fresh water fall down to the rocky shore, having soaked through the coastal heath now in autumn colour. 

Looking at the map on the wall of the boat cabin we hear tales of rebellions and storms and ships blown at least 12 inches off course that explain the whys and wherefores of signal towers pimpling the coast. The British had to fight hard to keep control of this island as the tussle between the British and the French empires caught this land and it's people in quite a tug of war, while the Irishmen themselves sought to somehow manipulate the situation to the advantage of their own freedom, over an extended period in the late 18th and early 19th Century. 

We round the point and come into sight of the Slieve League cliffs, which loom higher and higher over us, their summit wreathed in cloud. The most striking effect of them is the colour. Intense green and gold, contrasted with black and white and grey. We hear stories about incredibly hardy local women who would climb down these cliffs to salvage materials washed up from wrecks along the coast. It's hard to imagine climbing and and down the cliffs at all, let alone carrying a load and at times an awkward load at that. 

We pose for photos with the cliffs behind us as we the boat maintains a seaward heading. Though none on board are from the US we all smile and laugh at George Washington's profile in the distant headland, only visible when the boat is sitting in just the right spot. Within a few clicks of the camera shutter the effect is not so clear.

Cruising back past a cute little fishing boat we have more opportunities to fill memory cards with images, as if we didn't take more than we need as it is. Mostly Hubby and I have been staying out in the open, we've come to spend time on the water more than in the boat cabin. I put my nose in and the observation is made that the three from cold climates know to keep inside out of the weather. They are more lightly dressed than we are. We are warm as toast with our coats and hoods. Conversation turns to the weather forecasts over the coming week. An intense hurricane has formed in the Eastern Atlantic. The Irish coast usually gets the weakened tail of hurricanes formed in the west off the coast of Florida, now Lorenzo is expected to hit the coast here in a few days time. Paddy and other boat owners will need to take evasive action to protect their vessels from destructive wind and seas. It will end the season as the boats run along the coast to head up river where they can be left to rest on the tidal sands away from the sea, they're much safer there. Paddy explains what he does in the off-season. What an interesting life.  I'm not sure whether to be pleased or frustrated that we'll miss the first named storm of the season and the wild conditions it will generate. No point pondering what ifs though is there. It would be silly to be sorry this outing on the water has worked out so well.
The homeward leg of any journey always goes much more quickly than the outward one. Back on dry land we thank Paddy. this is definitely a wonderful way to view Slieve League. At the car we stop briefly to talk to a woman who is on the next trip with Paddy and point out where she needs to be. We load up and commence the deliberations about where to have lunch.

Hubby's keen to give the Rusty Mackerel a go. We're a bit early for lunch and perhaps this accounts for the free spaces in the parking area across the road.  We wander into the bar where there is a peat fire burning and staff bustling. This early there's only a couple of items on the menu, full lunch service being a while away yet and we really don't want to hang about until then. It's fine. We'd likely have chosen chowder anyway. We head into the next room and settle on a table. There's only a couple of women already installed at a table over in the corner and they are well advanced on their meal. The ambience of this place is brilliant. Cosy and rustic, it's not hard to imagine it full of rowdy voices and craic. I'm not overly hungry and the chowder is not as flavourful as others we've had, reminding me a bit too much of the fish soup my mother used to make when I was a kid. Hubby gets a serve and half mine to boot. I don't need much more than the beautiful sweet brown wheaten bread.

We wonder as we leave the Rusty Mackerel whether we need to go up to Bunglass Point. The staff in the Rusty Mackerel have given us some tips. Lots of people stop at the car park before the gate thinking that's required and they're obliged to walk to the lookout. It's actually fine to go through the gate and then you can drive all the way up. You just need to make sure you close the gate behind you. So that's what we do. I'm very fond of roads which create interesting pictures as they curve and shrug their way across a landscape. Minimal interference with the topography isn't great for speed, but it does add to the charm of the road.

In the carpark nearest the viewpoint, there's a portable souvenir shop set up selling woollens and tweeds. No doubt hoping to capitalise on the convenience and the wind chill in equal measure. We are drawn across to the views and I'm surprised to find that the cliffs look even more impressive viewed from the land where there is deep sense of scale and distance. I had actually expected the reverse. 

We stand and view the Giant's Chair and Table and it's definitely seen at it's best from above. Below, I watch as Paddy and the Nuala Star move across the dark water. They're moving pretty fast. I hang about admiring the view and stalking the sheep that are grazing, unperturbed by the busy tourist traffic, as Hubby takes a little wander along the view walk trail.

Soon Hubby's back, reporting that he didn't gain much advantage from the effort and we climb back into the car to ride the black snake road back down to the gate, where the volume of traffic means we hand the open gate from one pair of hands to the next rather than actually open or close it.
Next stop is Studio Donegal where I'm keen to check out their yarns and blankets. It's a busy little spot and we are obliged to park around on the side of the building, tucked in where I'm obliged to get out of the car before Hubby parks properly. There's another religious statue in an alcove cut into the side of the hill. This must be, or at least have been, a very devout community. As we walk quickly down the tarmac in light rain, a large opening in the building frees the clickety clack of the working loom to drift out over the village, adding considerably to the charm of the place. The building itself is a bit run down looking, the consistent rain no doubt providing challenges for presentation, it doesn't seem as tourist slick as Triona in Ardara. We cautiously open the door into the shop and are welcomed warmly. A beautiful skein of purple/red yarn sitting on the nearby table catches my eye. It's a heavier weight than I would normally use. A man, who I think is the owner, greets us as he passes through and encourages us to head upstairs to see the weaving in progress. We don't need to be asked twice! Up we go and there we find a couple of men busily working. We strike up a conversation and much to my surprise, Hubby's leading for our side this time. It's normally me that's the chatty one. It's apparently difficult to attract young people to work at hand weaving, and this is possibly the greatest threat to maintaining the traditional way. I do hope that the music of the hand looms continues in this village for a long long time to come. Eventually we head into another area where spinning of the yarn is undertaken, the weaver explaining the process as it progresses around the machinery. Then we see where the loaded spools are stored. It's been a very interesting visit, but now it's time to head back down to the shop and grapple with my indecision. Hubby navigates of course, lord knows where I would end up, left to my own devices in the northern hemisphere.
I'm looking for blankets or throws and we move back into that area and find some truly lovely full sized blankets which they market as bed covers, and indeed, perhaps although once you may have covered a blanket with a quilt, today, if you were to buy a hand woven blanket, they are too much of a luxury and too beautiful to hide under something machine made. I'm sorely tempted by the beautiful blues. It's terribly hard to make a decision. So the answer is simple. Defer decision making while I go and admire the yarns. We fondle the fingering weight yarns with their slight variation in thickness and heathered colouring, holding them up to the natural light we admire the richness of the colours. My selections made in that department, it's time to bite the bullet in the blanket room.

Studio Donegal posts internationally. It's very expensive to do this to Australia, especially for the amount we've bought, but better that than stress about the weight and potential damage from suitcase zippers. We'll have another lovely parcel arriving in the week or so after we get home.
Next stop Killybegs where I'm keen to get a better look at the fishing fleet. It's still raining as we pull up. It's a shame the seafood shack isn't open today, but the boats are very impressive. We never see anything like this at home. They must take an enormous harvest from the sea to make them viable.

Trophy shots in the bag, we're back on our way to Donegal town when I spot the most remarkable sheep. Driving past its field, I do a double take. "Check out that sheep!"  We've whizzed past but I demand a turn back and luckily the beauty queen sheep is used to the attention and maintains her pose for the paparazzi. The symetry of her markings and the clear definition between black and white is very striking.

Beauty Queen Sheep

She stands her ground for several minutes and eventually decides it's time to move along on the red carpet. Others in the field are clearly wondering if I'm thinking of offering them something to eat. Hangers on, clearly. "We know Beauty Queen sheep, and we're prepared to spill all her private secrets for a carrot". They move towards me hesitantly, clearly intending to confirm the details of the deal  before making the effort to come right over.  I'm wating with camera poised for them to get into a pleasing arrangement, for which I recive only mimimal cooperation. 

The one in the middle is suing her beautician

We take a slow pass through the diamond in Donegal town. A bit of a poke around would no doubt be fun, but we've spend quite enough over the last couple of days and we're keen to get to tonight's base and settle in. Maybe best just not to be tempted. But we don't get far before I call another impromptu stop. Our path to Lough Eske Castle Hotel takes us right past a hardware store with parking at the door. We are not going to get a more convenient opportunity than this. My suggestions earlier in our trip of "Perhaps we could go to the hardware store..." have fallen like drips of water on granite. But this time, my foot is being applied firmly on the metaphorical brake. Hubby parks with a vibe of pained tolerance. I'm retrieving the photo on my phone, handily taken at Hillsborough Castle to avoid communication difficulties.  I haven't been able to find these at home. "Do you have these in stock?" Happily the response is yes, and a guided walk to the shelf location. Suffice to say, they have don't have any in stock when I leave!

Well, that was an extremely satisfying stop. Happy as a clam I sit in the passenger seat like a cheshire cat as we motor down narrow single lane road, tarmac supporting a central strip of damp moss, my goodness, would you look at that...

The entrance to Lough Eske Castle is impressive and there's a huge statue of a dragon on the lawn, leaping salmon in a fountain on the drive. We pull up in front of the stairs and a man hurries down to hold an umbrella over me as I alight from the car. Gosh. I wasn't expecting that, but it's very welcome. We walk across to check in and get a run down on the new downstairs bar where they have live music in the evenings, invitation to use the free recreation areas, pool and so forth. I already regret not booking longer here. This is amazing. I always suspected I'd feel a bit out of place in 5 star hotels: What will I wear? Will my manners be appropriate? Will I be comfortable with being waited on hand and foot to that extent? ..but I've never felt more welcome, despite being, no doubt, a somewhat dishevelled traveller.  Even though the service and assistance is at a high level, I sense no vibe of class distinction, just warmth and genuine hospitality. 

Back out at the car, car keys are handed over for valet parking and we help load our lighter items of luggage onto a cute little buggy. It's not expected we will help, we know that, but many hands make light work and we're just not comfortable standing watching while someone else does the lot, especially when it speeds the process up in rainy weather! "Hop on!" our driver says. So we climb on the back seat of the buggy, protected from the rain as we head over to our room. I decide that we should take a selfie. I am pretty new to this sort of thing and quite extraordinarily incompetent at the task. It never fails to make Hubby break into hysterics, watching me struggle to aim the camera lens in a direction that equates more or less with the location of our heads.  

Pulled up outside our room, we follow through the private air lock into was has been a conversion of mews older than European knowledge of the land of our birth. Our room is huge and comfortable. The gardens are beautiful and there's an abundance of statuary. The rain encourages a rest before dinner. We perform our nightly rituatual of battery charging and downloading of photographs. We flop onto the bed. Oh, it's beautifully comfortable, not to mention enormous. 

The time flies past and soon enough its time to change for dinner and dash across the courtyard to avoid too much of a heavenly damping down. Hubby leads the way down a long corridor to the restaurant. Another warm greeting, and we're seated at a table for two. The restauarant is quite busy, but not noisy, which is a relief.  The quality of the food is another. We're not winning any points for adventure tonight, each making utterly predictable choices from the options listed: Caramelised Onion and cheddar tart with Shallot and Walnut, a fluffy confection not at all what I was expecting but very enjoyable; Donegal crab on toast, accomanied by apple, avocado, gem and green goddess dressing;  Duck with onion, white bean and bacon obviously for Hubby... or is it? Because the final main involves Grass fed beef fillet with Shitake Mushrooms. Shitake mushrooms, if not overcooked, do not trigger my abhorence of mushrooms. Luckily. We have been persistently slack at remembering to photograph menus this trip, so I can only report that our desserts were very nice!

Another dash through the rain back to our courtyard room, some intensive resting is in order. We've another busy day tomorrow.