Lo Vedo Life

If there were to be a leprechaun and a pot of gold, I think this rainbow would be a good place to find them. My friends Rosemary and Mike gave me the delightful gift of a tour of some of their favorite places in Northern Ireland, and our journey was filled to the brim with magic, discovery and laughter. The rainbow came at the end of one very special day, and it nicely summarizes the story of our adventures.

Pour yourself a cuppa or a glass of whiskey, because this is a long one!

Chapter one: Donegal

Before we jumped into discovering Northern Ireland, I wanted to share one place that is special to me: the town of Ramelton in County Donegal. Rosemary and Mike had spent a lot of time in Donegal, too, and we all had things to show each other. We passed two lovely days exploring, telling stories and finding delights that were new to all of us.

Our route to Ramelton took us over the Glenshane Pass, where one can stop for refreshment at The Ponderosa, billed as Northern Ireland’s highest bar. Rosemary and Mike were eager to share it with me, and I was eager to see it. Having grown up in Reno, Nevada, one local landmark was the famed Ponderosa Ranch at Lake Tahoe, the filming location for the television show Bonanza (1959-1973). On my phone, I queued up the theme song for Bonanza, and hit the play button as we pulled into the parking lot. Laughter all around!

From one meal to the next: this is a small part of the delicious welcome platter that our host and friend Des presented to us when we arrived at the Blue Goat in Ramelton, our digs for three nights.

A fine sunset view from my window, looking out over the River Lennon.

Sheephaven Bay, near Doe Castle, County Donegal.

We drove northeast toward Melmore, seeing some lovely and wild areas along the way, including this secluded little beach.

En route to Glenveigh Castle, we had this fine view of Muckish Mountain.

Looking southwest along Lough Beagh in Glenveigh National Park.

After dinner, we walked around the corner to Conway’s Bar. My friend Martin met us there for an evening of toe-tapping music, pints of Guinness, and smiles all around.

Chapter two: Portrush and the north coast

From Ramelton, we drove into Northern Ireland and to the coastal town of Portrush. Rosemary and Mike’s friends Andrina and Pamela had generously offered to let us stay in their caravan during our time in the area, and it was great to have a cozy home away from home while we found adventures along the north coast.

Portrush town
Portrush is a seaside resort on the north coast of County Antrim. It’s easy to feel the decades of holiday atmosphere as you walk around the town, ducking into shops, watching families build sandcastles on the beach, and checking out the historic rides in the amusement park.

The harbor at Portrush is home to a lifeboat station for RNLI, the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, which operates throughout the British Isles, including the Republic of Ireland.

The Arcadia was built in the 1920s as a café, then it became a ballroom, and now this iconic building houses a café, an art gallery, and space for events and classes. The building is almost completely surrounded by the ocean, and crashing waves often dance close to the building.

Rosemary remembers riding on the Helter Skelter as a youngster.

A crenelated wave seen from West Strand Beach in Portrush.

I call this one “Beachclamation,” an exclamation point in the sand.

Bushmills Distillery
Receiving its distilling license in 1608, Bushmills is the oldest licensed whiskey distillery in the world.

A well-used old copper jug reflects the Old Bushmills name.

A fisherman at Ballintoy Harbor, with the Fair Head Cliffs visible in the distance behind him.

Along the North Coast
Over the course of several days, we explored the dramatic northern coastline, visiting tiny harbors and beaches, poking around a castle that appears to be falling into the surf, and finding one dandy coffee shop.

Looking eastward, a nice view of Sheep Island from Ballintoy Harbor, with Rathlin Island running the full width of the background.

Looking to the west, the late afternoon sun sparkles on the water of Ballintoy Harbor, with the cliffs of the Giant’s Causeway in the background.

A good cuppa and a cozy atmosphere at Bothy Coffee, near the Giant’s Causeway.

Rosemary and Mike’s dog Kali, peeking from her basket while we savored our coffee.

A roadside potato vendor, selling out of a converted shipping crate.

Carrick-a-Rede is a small island that is separated from the mainland by a narrow chasm. Salmon used to be plentiful in these waters, and fishermen began using this area around 400 years ago. In 1755, the fishermen erected a rope bridge, 100 feet above the water, to ease access between the island and the mainland. The last fish was caught here in 2002. Now part of the National Trust, visitors can cross a newer bridge to take in some fabulous views and to learn about the history of the local fishing industry.

Looking down at my feet as I cross the rope bridge, with moody waters 100 feet below.

Dunluce Castle, perched on narrow cliffs high above the ocean. The first castle was built in the 13th century, but little remains of it; the current ruins date to 1500. It was a prized possession for warring lords until the Battle of the Boyne, when the owners faced financial ruin. The castle has been deteriorating since 1690.

Rough basalt cliffs and churning water below Dunluce Castle.

This fabulous aerial photograph beautifully illustrates the precarious setting for Dunluce Castle. Access is via the narrow bridge seen to the left. This is not my photograph; I found it on the website ireland.com.

The Giant’s Causeway

Once upon a time, there was a giant named Fionn Mac Cumhaill (Finn McCool). Finn was the biggest and strongest and bravest of all the Irish giants, and everyone knew it. But one day, Finn received a challenge from a Scottish giant named Benandonner, who wanted to fight Finn—and of course, to win—so that he could claim to be bigger and stronger than any ol’ giant from Ireland.

This angered Finn, who went out to the Antrim coast and began throwing big rocks into the water. He quickly realized that all these rocks could create a bridge to Scotland, which would allow him to walk there and prove his might by winning Benandonner’s challenge.

Word of the bridge got back to Scotland, and an enthusiastic Benandonner began tossing big rocks into the water so that the two ends of the bridge could meet, enabling the two giants to fight it out for victory. Benandonner was exhausted from his task, so he decided to take a quick nap before Finn arrived.

However, Finn arrived while the Scottish giant was still sleeping. He took one look at the huge giant—even more colossal than himself—and realized he would never be able to defeat Benandonner. He quickly retreated back home to Ireland.

Once he got home, he confessed his concern to his wife Oonagh. She thought of a clever ruse that might be able to save Finn. She disguised Finn as a baby and had him crawl into the giant cradle that was next to the fire. He pretended to sleep, and soon enough, there was a loud knock on the door.

Standing outside was the massive giant Benandonner, who had awakened from his nap to learn that Finn had come and gone again. He had followed Finn across the rock bridge, and now he pushed his way into the house demanding to fight Finn. Oonah said that Finn was not at home, but Benandonner searched the whole house anyway. When he returned to the kitchen, his eyes fell on the huge cradle that held a sleeping baby.

His eyes grew wide at the sheer immensity of this baby. If Finn’s baby was this big, how monstrous must Finn himself be? Benandonner decided that a giant of that size must surely win a fight, and he made the decision to leave while he could. He returned to Scotland, tearing up the bridge behind him as he went, to prevent Finn from following him.

And that is how the Giant’s Causeway came to be.

Looking up at just a few of the 40,000 basalt columns of the Giant’s Causeway.

Walking down the Shepherd’s Steps portion of the Red Trail, also in view far below.

Dewdrops caught in a spider’s web along the trail.

These rocks are a lot of fun to play on!

Ould Lammas Fair
Taking place at the end of August, the Lammas Fair is one of Ireland’s oldest fairs, running almost continuously for over three hundred years. The streets of Ballycastle are clogged with people of all ages, strolling through the booths to find an antique treasure, or a bite to eat, or a new hat. But for me, the more interesting part of the event is the horse fair, where people come from all around to buy and sell horses.

This young fellah’s father told us that they’d driven in from Ireland to find the boy a new horse.

Dad can barely keep up with his wee boy on a pony.

Several dapper gents taking a close look at the horses on offer.

Guglielmo Marconi invented a radio wave-based wireless telegraph system that became the foundation for the invention of radio, television, and all modern wireless communication systems. In 1898, he established wireless communication between Rathlin Island and the mainland; it was the world’s first wireless communication.

In Ballycastle, bar signage inspired by the Giant’s Causeway.

Chapter three: heading for Belfast

The time soon came to turn our attention toward the next part of our adventure: a drive along the northeast Antrim coast, eventually turning south toward Belfast. We had been invited to stay with Rosemary and Mike’s friends Sarel and Colin, in their lovely home on Islandmagee.

Antrim Coast
There’s a choice of roads here, and the more interesting route by far is a series of narrow winding roads that hug the steep cliffs and give views to take your breath away. Over and over and over again, gasping and pointing.

Our first stop was Torr Head. The lane leading to it drops steeply from the only slightly bigger “main” road and leads to a small parking area. From there we walked up a bluff on the cliffs that houses the remains of a 19th-century coastguard station. Interestingly, the word torr is Scottish Gaelic for mound, and Torr Head is only 12 miles from Scotland, the closest point on the island of Ireland. It’s a spot with magnificent 360-degree views, as you can see in the next four photographs.

The view to the southwest of Torr Head, looking beyond my feet and down the sides of the bluff, across tidy green fields, and back up the hill toward the coastal road.

Looking northwest from Torr Head toward the Fair Head Cliffs and Rathlin Island.

Although it was a cloudy day, we had a clear northeast view across the Sea of Moyle toward several points in Scotland, the closest being 12 miles away.

Finally, looking southeast from Torr Head, which is essentially at the corner where we turned south toward Belfast. This stretch of the Antrim Coast is remote, dramatic and rather wild. I imagine that the constant dance of light and weather and water and rocks creates an ever-changing and fascinating tableau.

We continued along the coast, stopping occasionally for a photo, and made our way to the village of Carnlough, where we had lunch in the cozy Harborview Hotel. Later we stopped in Carrickfergus, one of the oldest settlements on the island of Ireland and home to a magnificent Norman castle. There was a stop at a favorite butcher shop to pick up meat for dinner, and then we found our way to Islandmagee and the warm, inviting home of Sarel and Colin.

The tidy harbor at Carnlough, where we stopped for a lunch and a little stroll around the village.

A fascinating story seen at Carnlough Harbor.

The cozy bar in the Harborview Hotel in Carnlough.

One of three modern sculptures of medieval knights, seen at the waterfront in the town of Carrickfergus.

Belfast
I’ll keep this simple: I would like to return to Belfast for a longer, more thorough visit; there is a lot to see and a few layers to peel back. That said, the two days we had there were a splendid teaser, a great way to whet my appetite.

Our first day we headed to the splendid Ulster Folk Museum, a living historic village and farm. Here’s how Rosemary described it: “The art, craft, innovation and culture of the people of Northern Ireland through the last few hundred years.” And I found this on the museum’s web site: “The Ulster Folk Museum demonstrates how reconnecting with traditions, skills and customs from the past can help us grow and thrive in the world today.”

The entrance is in the village, where time stands still as we walk along narrow roads, peeking into this shop or that house. Many of the structures, especially the houses, date to the 18th century and were transplanted from other parts of Northern Ireland.

While the buildings are older, the village depicts life around 1900. All employees are dressed in period clothing, artisans demonstrate their work, and historic figures engage in period-accurate conversation. We especially enjoyed our appointment with the village doctor, who valiantly remained in character despite several leading questions from the three of us troublemakers.

After exploring the village, we took a longer walk through the extensive grounds, which comprise wildlands, farms, mills and other work buildings. I thoroughly enjoyed our visit to this remarkable living museum.

Near the entrance to the Ulster Folk Museum.

The basket weaver demonstrated his craft, stripping willow bark and weaving some of the pieces that had already been soaked in water. Behind him were his stunningly beautiful life-sized sculptures of animals native to North America, in preparation for an exhibit at the Ulster American Folk Park.

Homemade soda bread, cooked over an open fire in a rectory that was originally built in 1717.

The Coalisland Spade Mill, originally built in Derry in the 1850s.

After the Ulster Folk Life Museum, we drove to nearby Crawfordsburn for a cozy cup of coffee while it rained outside. Along a few blocks of Main Street, all of the buildings are white with black trim in different designs.

The skies cleared in time for us to enjoy a visit to the Giant’s Ring, a Neolithic site dating to about 2700 BCE. There’s a full earthwork circle that’s about 200 meters across, and inside that circle is a passage tomb. We enjoyed the evening sun and walked the full circle before dropping down to see the tomb, or dolmen.

St George’s Market: while there has been a market on this site for at least 400 years, the current Victorian brick building dates to the 1890s.

The next day dawned grey and rainy, perfect for our first stop at St George’s Market. Built in the 1890s of red brick with a partial glass roof, this is the last remaining Victorian-era market in Belfast, and it’s a hopping place. In addition to fresh produce, fish, meats and cheese, there are many stalls selling gorgeous pastries and a variety of prepared foods from around the world. There are vendors offering art, jewelry, pottery and clothing. There are shops with vintage record albums and antique silverware. There’s live music. There’s a delicious feeling of camaraderie and community, as folks of all ages come together to share a meal or shop for a gift, to browse or to buy the week’s vegetables.

Coming in from rather heavy rain, these exquisite raspberry scones were the first thing we saw. We pounced, and they were perfectly delicious!

The rain was coming down with real attitude, so we didn’t do as much sightseeing around central Belfast as we’d hoped. Mike called their friend Mark, who met us for lunch, and we visited a few shops, too. We had picked up lots of goodies for a picnic-style dinner back at the house, and soon we were headed back to Islandmagee and a lovely dinner with Sarel and Colin.

The next day we had one more thing to do before departing all too soon for our next stop. Sarel had spotted a notice for a nearby event that sounded intriguing, and she, Rosemary and I left to check it out. Unexpectedly, the place was packed, and the skillful storyteller held us enchanted in the palm of her hand as she wove the story of the last witch trial in Ireland, held in 1711 in nearby Carrickfergus.

There isn’t very much documentation about the events of the case, and no official records of either the two trials nor their verdicts. That said, our storyteller was so good at her craft that I felt utterly transported back in time, and at the end of the event, I remember feeling slightly disoriented to find myself in a crowded room on a sunny day in modern Northern Ireland.

Back at the house, we finished loading the car and turned once again toward Belfast for a brief driving tour to show me a few sights before we continued on to Newcastle and the Mourne Mountains.

The giant yellow cranes built by Harland & Wolff dominate the Belfast skyline, an ode to the city’s proud and long-standing role in shipbuilding. The nearest crane is named Goliath, built in 1969, and the more distant crane is Samson, built in 1974.

The view from beneath Goliath in the Belfast shipyard.

We drove through the city to see some of the famous murals, in both Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods. I’d really like to return one day to have tours of these murals, to hear the stories, and to better understand this turbulent history. For this trip, though, I was content with quick views from the car as we drove along a few streets.

Rosemary pointed the car south and we drove to Newcastle, sitting on the coast of the Irish Sea and at the feet of the beautiful Mourne Mountains. By the time we arrived, clouds had joined the party, and by the time we went to dinner it was raining.

A rainy abstract view of our hotel, the Slieve Donard, as we walked back from dinner.

Chapter four: Newcastle and the Mourne Mountains

The next day dawned fresh and clear, and we set out for a walk in the Tollymore Forest Park. I had no idea what lay ahead, but a nice walk on a pretty day sounded perfect. On a long voyage full of magic and wonder, it turned out that my favorite moments were found in this park.

When we arrived, we were greeted by a double row of the most outrageous and wondrous trees. They are Himalayan cedars, huge specimens, many of them with branches contorted into imaginative positions.

That lowest horizontal branch is higher than the top of my head. Big tree.

We parked the car and began our walk through the park, and almost immediately I could feel an awakening. My body slowed and I began to breathe more deeply. I felt the urge to stretch like a cat reaching for the sun, moving and breathing slowly, reaching higher, slowing further, breathing deeper.

We walked through a space that was built of a million shades of green. Tall, tall trees stretched to the heavens, while rivers sang and danced their way down the gentle slopes. Every sense was awakened.

The air itself seemed to be its own hue of shimmering green, so fresh, so life-giving. I drank in the freshness and the energy. We were in a forest of exquisite trees of seemingly endless variety, and I sensed the possibility that I might find my way to understanding their wisdom and grace and patience. Maybe, some day.

Little Kali, flanked by her peeps as we walked in this enchanting forest.

Have you heard of forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku? This would be a dandy place to give it a try.

There is a glimmer of magic in the Tollymore Forest Park.

After that refreshing walk, we took a drive into the lovely Mourne Mountains, where we found rain and sheep in abundance. A short time later, as we made our way back to our hotel, we were treated to the magical view that opens this post: a rainbow that surely comes with a pot of gold.

The next day brought more of that shimmering green air and another delightful walk, this time in the Castlewellan Forest Park. Now publicly-owned, this park was once the property of a family that collected trees from the Americas, Asia and Australasia. The grounds are a gardener’s paradise, containing a remarkable variety of trees and shrubs, including giant sequoias from California.

We found more magic and shimmering green in the Castlewellan Forest Park.

Castlewellan Forest has inviting trails leading through a stunning landscape of trees and shrubs.

Castlewellan Lake, in the middle of the forest, giving a nearly-perfect mirror image of ruffled clouds and stately trees.

Twigs peeking out from the water of Castlewellan Lake as a breeze sends clouds skipping across the sky.

Branches of a downed tree dipping into the water’s edge.

Castlewellan Forest is home to the Peace Maze, a two-mile maze made of 6,000 yew trees, which are beloved in Ireland. I don’t know if the maze is made of Irish yews, but I did just learn an interesting tidbit. In the 1700s, an unusual form of yew tree was discovered. There were two small trees with characteristics that differed from the common yew, and this variety was named the Irish yew. One of those two trees is still thriving, and virtually all Irish yew trees—worldwide— have been propagated from that one tree. It’s a female tree, meaning it produces berries like those in the photos above, and all Irish yew trees are also female.

We returned to Newcastle, and the remainder of the day was passed with a stroll through town and then back to the hotel via the promenade along the beach. We found dinner at O’Hare’s Bar, where, after a nice meal, we began to hear some musical notes. This turned out to be the weekly practice session of the local ukulele band, and when we went back for a peek, we found 20 or so musicians playing up a storm. The age range looked to be around 60 years, and these folks were clearly good friends having a good ol’ time together. Their smiles were infectious, and we left feeling happy and contented.

The promenade in Newcastle has some splendid sculptures, which were given titles by the local school children. This one is a shiny sphere of stainless steel called “Global Journeys,” and it was perfect for a selfie of our traveling band of merry-makers.

Our hotel, the Slieve Donard, looks out over the Newcastle beach at low tide.

The last day
The next morning we packed up the car and bid a fond farewell to Northern Ireland, driving along the coast into Ireland and toward the Dublin airport. Our fine trip was coming to an end, but we did see some interesting things that day.

Two pilot boats and a sailboat on Carlingford Lough, one of three true fjords on the island of Ireland.

A rainy moment on the Carlingford ferry. The sign reads “Vehicles are not to move until directed,” but I’m calling it “Car, Sit, Stay.”

We stopped in the coastal town of Blackrock, to stretch our legs with a walk along the promenade and to find a place for lunch. The weather that day was variable, with some exciting clouds low on the horizon.

The birds in the two photos above and below were also looking for lunch.

“The Cockle Pickers,” a steel sculpture by local artist Michéal McKeown, is seen along the promenade in Blackrock. Cockles were an important food source here for hundreds of years.

Dramatic clouds over the Irish Sea at Malahide.

We paused near Drogheda for coffee, and then visited Malahide for more meandering, followed by dinner. The sky remained dramatic, although we hadn’t had much rain all day, yay.

And then it was time to make our way to our airport hotel for our last night in Ireland. Rosemary and Mike had a ferry to catch early the next morning, and I had a flight back to France. We enjoyed a cup of tea and said our good-nights and farewells, bringing this marvelous adventure to a close.