Our guide, Sean, always fusses with us about the need to be ready to leave on time because we have a schedule to keep -- just one of the things you live with when you take a bus tour. Today he pushes a bit harder in hopes we'll leave a bit earlier than usual because the streets will soon be cordoned off for a marathon, and leaving town will be harder if we start late.
As we drive north -- I presume it was north; I've no real sense of direction, but it seems we must head that way given our itinerary for the day -- Sean begins to tell us about Jonathan Swift, who as well as being a famous author, was a cleric who served at St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin and at a church in Belfast, or at least in County Antrim.
Just outside Belfast lies Ben Madigan, also known as Cavehill, which, according to Sean's telling of the story, Swift viewed every day. Viewed from the right angle, you can see the outline of a giant profile, which looks like a giant sleeping on his back. Legend has it that this sleeping giant inspired Swift to write Gulliver's Travels.
True or not, it's an enchanting story, but not the most fantastical one we'll hear this day.
We'll be taking the Causeway Coastal route, which one Northern Ireland tourist website describes as following "the coast road through the nine Glens of Antrim, winding between various picturesque villages and unforgettable scenic locations." This description turns out to actually be something of an understatement.
 |
| Better than the picture, really. |
The two-lane road twists and turns, following the coastline so closely in some spots you wonder if it ever floods at high tide. At one point Sean tells us that the headland we can see across the water is Scotland, just 30 miles or so away.
When we returned from our vacation the woman driving the bus to the parking lot asked where we'd been. When we told her Ireland, she asked if it was beautiful and did it look like the movies. We both told her it was better than the movies.
Though the leaves were beginning to turn colors, the dominant color through the glens was green -- bright, vivid greens divided by blackthorn hedges and dotted with mumbruschia, a dazzling orange wildflower, and white bags recently filled with peat moss. The sights were so compelling I wanted to hijack the bus, find a place to pull over and go sit on a fence to soak it in.
When I look at the pictures I took of the countryside I'm struck by the brightness of the green fields we saw. Often I have to saturate the colors in the photos I take to make them look the way I remember the reality. With my Ireland pics, I find myself taking a bit of the color out because I don't want viewers to think I'd artificially enhanced the green to make a point about Eire being called the Emerald Isle.
We stop in a couple of small towns along the way for a break and photo ops. In Carnlough, while most folks are off snapping all the photos they can for the duration of the stop, I become interested in three older bicyclists who've stopped for coffee or tea. They begin chatting with members of our group.
The talk turns to the weather, which, they tell us, has been very nice of late, which they kindly attribute to our visit. The temps have run from the low 50s to the mid 70s, and we've had precious little rain. Someone asks the bikers about snow, and they tell us that they receive very little usually,
But in 2011, they said, Ireland experienced an unusually heavy snowfall.
"You could look across the hills, and it looked like the Sahara," one of the bikers said. The snow was so deep in spots that baby lambs were covered up and unable to dig their way out. Sad story.
The bus engine cranks up, so we know it's time to leave, and we thank the bikers for the chat; they wish us well. Have I mentioned how nice the Irish are?
More beautiful scenery, then we make a stop in Ballycastle, hometown of both our guide and our driver, Paddy. We stop along the harbor, which has a broad, sandy beach and little park dominated by a sculpture of seagulls in flight. Waves broke on the beach and the rocky area next to it. The harbor lay on the other side of the rocks.
 |
| Swan sculpture in Ballycastle. The grass is actually greener. I toned it down a bit. |
Back to the weather. Just about everyone I know, no matter what state they live, will at some point say, "If you don't like the weather, just wait a few minutes, and it will change. As flighty as the weather has been in places I've lived, none of them can touch the coast of Ireland. In the same morning, shoot, in the same half hour, it can be foggy, cloudy, clear, back to foggy, back to mostly clear, then cloudy and rainy. It's crazy.
Our next stop will be the reason we decided to take the tour that went through Northern Island, the Giant's Causeway. On our way there we stop to see a rope bridge, the Carrick-a-rede, which connects the mainland with a small island. The bridge has been there in one form or another for years, and the theory is that it was first built by fishermen. Now it's mostly used by tourists, and it was last rebuilt in 2008. Apparently some visitors who cross to the island on the bridge become so unnerved by the experience that they won't go back that way and have to be taken off the bridge by boat.
 |
| Near the shore at the Giant's Causeway. |
The Giant's Causeway ought to be one of the top natural wonders of the world. An estimated 40,000 basalt columns of various heights rise up out of the sea and extend a short way up into the hills. Geologists say they were created by a volcanic eruption, and I'm sure they have an explanation for the hexagonal shapes of the columns, but I don't know what it is.
The Irish have another, much more charming, explanation, which you can read about here: http://thenorthernirelandguide.co.uk/giants-causeway-and-legend-finn-mccool. Go ahead. Go check it out, then come back here.
You can explore the area using one of four trails, and on the main trail that leads to the columns, a bus takes tourists who'd rather not walk down to site. We chose that trail, but we walked Along the way you can see various formations that have become part of the giant's story. You can see a camel, a shoe, a chair, the giant's granny, and a pipe organ. And your imagination doesn't even have to stretch much to see the incarnations.
We're supposed to eat lunch while there, but we spend enough time on the trail and in the gift shop that we don't leave enough time for food. Fortunately we'd squirreled away some fruit and scones from breakfast.
Our last stop will be Derry/Londonderry, and our path takes us through Ballykelly, site of an infamous bombing during The Troubles. Seventeen people, The incident took place at a disco/pub, and 11 soldiers and six civilians, died in the attack. Four people received life sentences for their involvement.
If you put aside the grisly incident, you will be charmed by the village, one of those picturesque towns mentioned above. Our drive takes us alongside Lough Foyle, which now the sun has reappeared, shimmers deep blue, another picturesque site that makes me want to highjack the bus.
By this point, it may seem like we've spent an entire day, but that would be a wrong impression. We roll into Derry early in the afternoon and have time to settle in before hopping back on the bus with a local guide, Ronan McNamara, to whom our leader, Sean, refers as having a great Irish name. He says that two or three times before we meet the man, and only a really dense person would miss the implication that Ronan may not be a stereotypical red-headed Irishman.
I'll tell you more about Ronan and Derry in my next post.
No comments:
Post a Comment