Dalreen Pass to Moffat: E2 Day 45

A wet and windy day with some unexpected mountains and good paths through forestry.

Heavy rain and high winds had been forecast for today starting at 7:00 am, so I prepared to sleep early last night, lying in my sleeping bag listening to distance sounds. Cars drove by on a road now a kilometre or so away, geese gaggled, a bird whose strident call was familiar, but which I could not place, was a little nearer, then moved farther away. Comforted by these sounds I was asleep well before 9:00 pm.

By 6:30 am I was packed and on my way, my tent wet from overnight showers, recalled during brief periods of wakefulness. Although not raining at first the sky was overcast with dark clouds, so dawn was a muted affair, a gradual grey lightening rather a paparazzi pink horizon. Leaving a forest path for a gravel track I read information boards about archaeological finds; heaps of stones burnt 3000 years ago, and a more recent ruin of a fortified "Bastille" house, dating from when the Scottish borders was a lawless area. A post also informed me that I had reached the half way point of the Southern Upland Way.

On the approach to the Daer reservoir there was a path diversion. The route should have gone over the dam but work of some kind was underway. There was a map of the diversion with many coloured dots, in the morning half light it was difficult to see exactly where they wanted walkers to go. However it looked as if they were referring to an older route of the Southern Upland Way which went below the dam. I had a GPS track of this older route so I followed it.

Looking down on Daer reservoir.

This led me up some mountains on a rough path. When I had glanced at the guidebook earlier I did not recall this mountain moorland climb, it referred to today as "something of a come-down". However in good weather this climb would have resulted in excellent views. Today's weather was not good. High winds and an exposed location meant my climb was a struggle, my runny nose not helping. There was a path but it was rough with water logged patches. In addition it was one of those hills with many summits so it seemed like I would never reach the top. I consoled myself that at least the strong, southerly wind, now armed with raindrops, was machine gunning my side. Although it was unbalancing me, pushing me sideways at least my waterproof's hood stopped my face being attacked by high velocity pellets of rain.....then the path turned into the rain. A steep descent and steep ascent immediately after, hard on the knees, at least gave me a period of shelter from the wind. Despite the wind the turbines in the nearby wind farm were not turning. Too much wind maybe for the turbines? (Later: or maybe too much power being generated, according to the National Grid 54.7% of UK's electricity was produced by the wind for this day).

With much joy I entered forestry, where the trees provided some shelter and the path, located on the line of a buried gas pipeline, was well made and maintained allowing a good speed. I decided against a diversion to a nearby bothy for shelter, thinking instead of the warm hotel room that awaited me in Moffat. So I pushed, on admiring the red leaves of the willow herb now dying back for winter and the russet of the dying bracken. 

Path through forestry.

Joining the "Crooked Road" into Beattock was good as it meant I was nearing my destination but bad because I lost the shelter of the trees. Rain and wind showed no mercy as I trudged over the open moorland. I consoled myself that the wind driving the pounding raindrops and the cold, wet, dampness that was spreading around my loins from some gap in my waterproofs, would make a hot bath at the hotel more luxurious than any scented candles or bubble baths.

After crossing the transport corridor of road, motorway and railway that passes Beattock I turned off the Southern Upland Way onto the Annandale Way for the last few kilometres into Moffat. The man on the hotel's reception told me check was not until 4:00 pm (2 1/2 hours later) but maybe took pity on me as I stood there dripping on his floor and showed me my room. No bath but a hot shower, dry clothes, lunch and a phone call with my wife put me in a cheerful mood. The room is a good size, as I would expect for what they are charging. Apart from a hostel someway out of town it seemed the only place with vacant rooms. Maybe that is because there is a "Walking Festival" this weekend, offering several guided walks. Tomorrow is a rest day, so I have just booked onto a short one...

Sanquhar to Dalreen Pass: E2 Day 44

A few moorland mountains climbed today, great views and lunch at Wanlockhead Lead Museum.

Getting out of bed, stiff, struggling to get upright I wonder if I will manage to walk today, but after a few exercises to warm up, legs were functioning again. Is this just getting old, have I overdone my hiking, will I become progressively less flexible? Putting these thoughts aside I enjoyed a good breakfast and then started on the first of the three summits I would cross this morning, mingling with the dog walkers (who I soon left behind).

A little way uphill out of Sanquhar there was a monument to a hundred years of "Riding the Marches" at Sanquhar, an annual practice in which people ride their horses around the boundary of their local area. The practice commemorates when the boundaries of a clan were patrolled to protect against "reivers" stealing their cattle.

Stream cutting down into an older landscape.

All the mountains I crossed today were bereft of trees, mostly coarse moorland grass and reeds. The paths were good and I made steady progress, admiring the way streams had cut small, steep sided valleys into an older, more rounded landscape. Fortunately I have recovered from the tiredness of yesterday and made steady progress reaching Wanlockhead village in time for lunch. Evidence of the historic lead mining was present throughout the valley leading up to the village. Piles of mining waste and the ruins of old buildings where the ore was treated to separate the shiny, silvery mineral "galena" (lead sulphide) from the associated rock. Information boards explained what once happened at each location. Near the village there was an old beam pump, used to lift water from the mine, which I admired from an old tramway that the Southern Upland Way followed. A visit to the Lead Mining Museum was recommended by my guidebook, so I started at the café for lunch, then looked around the exhibits describing (among many other things) how children were used to sort the ore.

Remains of a lead smelter.

After a welcome visit to the toilet, I began the long climb up to the "golf ball" radar station on Lowther hill. Used for Air Traffic Control I read it has recently been upgraded to mitigate the "clutter" caused by the many wind turbines currently in the area and the new ones expected in the future. A steep climb but rewarded by the wide view over many surrounding mountains. Corries, carved out by small glaciers, now long gone, were highlighted by the angle of the sun. Near the top a waymark post had a plaque explaining where the nearest defibrillator was located - it was at the lead mining museum at the bottom of the hill, not much help if the steep climb had brought on a heart attack! More useful was a little cabin which gave walkers shelter from the wind and weather. Its logbook showed it was much appreciated.

"Golf ball" air traffic control radar on top of Lowther Hill.

View from cabin at corries on a nearby mountain.

After Lowther Hill I had two more summits and some steep ascents and descents. On one descent I met a hiker walking the Southern Upland Way in the opposite direction, so we stopped to chat. He asked if I was a member of the LDWA (Long Distance Walkers Association), which of course I am being a Long Distance Walker, and also if I was collecting the Southern Upland Way "coins". These are specially minted coins or "Waymerks" hidden in "kists" on the route. He had several but I had not looked for any, not knowing what to do with them if I found them, although maybe one day these unique curiosities will be valuable.

Now camped in forestry on an old track, I have confirmed that heavy rain and high winds are forecast from 7:00 am tomorrow. Packing up my tent and belongings in such conditions would be difficult, the tent's canvas flapping madly and everything getting wet, so I want to be up early and ready to go before then.

Stroanpatrick to Sanquhar: E2 Day 43

A fine day's walking with empty mountains in all directions, somewhat spoilt by tiredness, a snivelling nose and a complaining knee.

I rose early as dawn is one of the most beautiful times of day, and today was a great example. Streaks of pink cloud to the east caught the sun beyond the horizon, highlighting wind turbines lining the mountain tops. Above the clouds the sky was a deep blue, promising a sunny day. After packing up my tent, wet with a heavy dew despite a good wind overnight, I hurried up the steep slopes of Benbrack to catch the morning sun as it shone through the large arch constructed on the moorland summit. Whatever meaning was intended by this sculpture, it looked impressive in the morning light. Another arch echoed it, on a summit some miles away. A fine ridge walk took me near this sister summit but veered off down into conifer plantations. 

Dawn.

Sculpture on Benbrack with the rising sun shining through.

Among the trees I found Allan's Cairn, a monument to George Allen and Margaret Gracie who were shot by Dragoons at an open air prayer meeting of Covenanters in the 17th century. Covenanters were Presbyterians, protestants who rejected a church governed by the king, believing people could have a direct relationship with God.

My next milestone among the trees was the Chalk Memorial Bothy. Resting a while inside, I was almost fooled in the dim light by the bookcases painted on the walls. 

Leaving the forest it was a long walk up a green valley, bare of trees. Interlocking spurs on the upper part were a good example of the geomorphology of a valley created by a river in the mountains. There were a few remote farmhouses, but despite being a long way from any settlement, broadband was in the process of being installed, which will make life a little more convenient for the occupants of this sparsely populated area.

Interlocking spurs of a mountain river.

The Southern Upland Way climbed out of the valley and into the next. Near the top I met a Southern Upland Way Ranger installing a gate. He was the first person I had seen all day. The gate replaced a stile and would allow access by horse riders and mountain bikers. We discussed the condition of the trail and the type of trousers we were both wearing. Responding to my comments on the boggy nature of the trail over the last day or so, he said he hoped to place a small digger in the area next year to improve drainage. Getting materials like gravel to remote locations was a challenge. He said he was currently being funded by a wind farm, which I thought very generous of them and a different attitude to the wind farms I had come across in Ireland, which wanted to keep walkers out. I should have asked about the painted posts. Throughout the route posts with a stylised thistle symbol marked the Southern Upland Way, but in this area many have been painted with patterns and pictures, with a few words added to encourage the hiker such as "On and on you will hike and I know you'll hike far".

Sanquhar was now on the horizon which relieved me greatly as I was feeling more tired than I should have for the distance walked. My left knee was painful and I was limping as I walked the last stretch into town. However I am booked into a hotel here and am hoping a bit of rest (I arrived just after 2:30 pm) and good food will restore me. I have walked down the main street to buy a few items of food for tomorrow. Typical of a Borders town it is lined with terraced buildings with some small shops, it also has another memorial to the Covenanters.

Craigenbay to Stroanpatrick: E2 Day 42

Woods, moors and distant views today with a welcome interlude at St John's Town of Dalry for an early lunch.

I reluctantly left my fine campsite among the pine trees this morning, then headed off over moorland and heath. The plays of light and darkness from the cloud filled sky gave the mountains a moody appearance, difficult to capture on camera, if the lighter sky was captured the detail of the foreground was lost in darkness (and vice versa). The human eye is far more subtle. A road led me into a valley of oak and beech by a small river, sunlight occasionally illuminating the leaves from behind, enriching their colours. Mosses clothed tree trunks, stone walls and any other fixed object in its damp embrace. I was so entranced by the scenery I missed a turn, although as the finger post had taken on a shade of damp green like the surrounding woodland it was easy to miss.

Moody morning view.

Climbing out of the valley on a path among the ferns, more of the surrounding hills came into view. From the top I could look down on the grandly named village of St John's Town of Dalry. I thought myself alone but as I took a photo I was accosted by a border terrier. Its owner told me the large estate I had walked through was a quarter deciduous trees, which surprised me as I had thought the woodland in this area of the Scottish borders would be almost exclusively commercial conifers. 

St John's Town of Dalry.

Reaching Dalry sometime later I was disappointed that it lacked a café. Fortunately the shop at the petrol station sold me coffee, a pie and a few other items. I enjoyed them sitting on a bench outside the town hall (where I also enjoyed the use of the toilet located around the back, a simple but great pleasure that other wild campers may understand)! There were information boards about the Covenanters, protestants persecuted because of their belief that God could speak to them directly without need of a priest, and that the bible was their guide. Many died for their beliefs.

After lunch and a climb out of Dalry there was plenty of walking on paths across moorland with excellent views of distant mountains. The end of this section in my guidebook was at the small farm of Stroanpatrick, but I continued on for a while to reduce tomorrow's journey. Unfortunately finding a place to camp was again difficult, the ground boggy and tussocky. The dry spots were on higher ground, exposed to a fresh breeze. However, lacking alternatives I am camped on one of these and the wind is giving the canvas of my tent a good shaking. I hope it survives the night.

Moorland path in the evening while looking for somewhere to pitch my tent, the ground is wetter and more uneven than it looks!

Glentrool to Craigenbay: E2 Day 41

This morning's path ran among sunlight dappled oaks and birch as it shadowed the river to Loch Trool. After the Loch it was forestry, moors and more lakes for the rest of the day.

My meal last night at the Hotel o'Hill was lovely, roast venison in a room which held me in a warm embrace. The waitress said I had a "radio voice", probably the effect of my cold, but flattering nevertheless. A number of the other diners had dogs, much spoilt by the staff. One beefy dog had "Stick Rescue" written on his harness, which I found unduly amusing.

Although it rained overnight I woke in the early hours to see clear skies with a myriad of stars. As there are few settlements to cause light pollution the area (Galloway Forest Park) has "Dark Sky" status. I was glad the campsite respected this by not overdoing the lighting, although one motorhome, with outside lighting, had not got the message.

To rejoin the Southern Upland Way from the campsite I followed a path in the trees beside the road. All along the footway there were collections of painted pebbles left by someone, with cheerful messages such as "Be Happy" and a topical reference to the life of our recently deceased queen.

Painted pebbles.

This morning's walk followed the River Cree and its tributaries up to Loch Trool. Although the river was rarely visible, the pretty path wound its way among oaks, birch, holly, hazel and others. There seemed a plan to restore the oak woodlands that existed in the valley before people changed the landscape. Beside the path thick, bright green moss carpeted the ground, or else it was covered by bilberries, ferns or heather, always something to enjoy as the light filtered through the trees. Apart from a few muddy hollows the trail was well made with handy bridges. 

Path up from Glentrool.

Pools of still water looked especially black, nothing visible beneath, dotted with yellow leaves signing the start of Autumn, the mirror surface reflected the trees above. Streams and rivers were similarly coloured by peaty blackness but it was broken by riffles and rapids, where the water foamed, off white as it tumbled over rocks. On the steep sides of the broad valley through which I was walking, burns cascaded down in thin waterfalls.

Black pools of water.

More people were out today than I had expected for such a remote area. We all had to brave intermittent showers of varying length and intensity, a change from the clear skies with which the day started.

Loch Trool.

Leaving Loch Trool I climbed over a bare, moorland pass on a gravel road, descending on the other side to another lake, Loch Dee. Then a tiring stretch of forest track among conifers, either I am not as fit as I should be or I am getting old. My aching left knee was complaining. Eventually I reached Clatteringshaws Loch and the road which marked the end of this stage in the guidebook. Time to find a spot to camp. I discounted a viewpoint by the lake due to all the empty cider cans and general detritus combined with recent car tyre marks, left by people I had no wish to meet. I followed a long path heading north, part of tomorrow's stage, but there were no spots suitable for camping. The path seemed to be a causeway, a raised, dry route surrounded by bog each side comprising of clumps of rush with hidden water filled holes and channels. I worried I might have to camp on the path itself but fortunately, on entering an area of mature trees on higher ground I found an excellent spot to pitch my tent on a bed of pine needles, up a small path near a large rock outcrop. Evidently used before, there was a half constructed "lean to", but the people involved had been considerate enough to remove all their rubbish.

Ballmurrie Fells to Glentrool: E2 Day 40

A day in wind farms, forestry and boggy moors with few people about.

The first part of the day was through a large wind farm, among commercial trees and some moorland. Although the author of my guidebook dislikes them I was thinking that each turn of the white blades of every turbine meant less fossil fuel burnt, so less climate related damage, and less dependence by Europe on Russia's gas, which President Putin is using as a weapon to expand his empire into other people's countries. The turbine blades turned with a whooshing sound as I looked down on them from the summit of a small hill. I was surprised last night that there were no blinking red lights on top of them as I have seen elsewhere. Presumably they are not tall enough to be a threat to aircraft (and less efficient as a result). From the top of the hill, in addition to the many white columns of wind turbines spread neatly over forests and nearby mountains, I could still see in the far distance to the west a sliver of sea.

Wind turbines were a common sight.

Light rain fell periodically throughout the day. From clouds which reached down to the ground I could see rain was travelling over valleys to the east, driven towards me by westerly winds. The beehive bothy stood in a clearing in the forest, so called due to its modern and unique design. Looking through the glass of the door I could see someone sleeping in a puffy, bronze sleeping bag, even though it was almost 9:00 am. Really late for an early riser like myself. They had left their walking sticks outside, maybe to warn people the bothy was occupied. I decided not to disturb their slumbers and continued to the next sight, a pair of standing stones of modest size on which crosses had been inscribed. Their origins seemed a bit obscure according to the associated information board.

Beehive bothy, like other bothies free for use by passing walkers.

Leaving the wind farm, I followed a single track road which linked remote farms and cottages. The houses were typical of rural Scotland, single storey with dormer windows for attic bedrooms, solid stone built walls and slate roofs, huddled down as if to prepare for winter storms. After crossing a secondary road I stopped for lunch. 

All morning I had been feeling tired. For several days my nose had been running so perhaps this contributed to my lassitude. A headache was also growing. Putting that down to a lack of coffee I had a couple of caffeine tablets. These, or else my lunch, seemed to revive me, and I enjoyed the following heather and fern lined section of trail (although the heather's purple flowers were past their best). The willow herbs' displays of purple flowers had also passed, replaced by curved pods of cottony seeds. In Canada they call it fireweed, as it grows where forests have burnt down. On my walk I noticed it where trees had been felled. I suppose the sudden loss of trees, whether burnt or felled, provides much the same opportunity for this plant.

As I walked over a gentle hill, tall grass swaying in the wind, a panorama of hills around me, I was feeling free and unfettered in the open, empty surroundings. Such feelings of well-being did not however survive a trudge through a bog, the path indistinguishable from those made by cows and sheep. I accidentally put my left foot down deep into a hole filled with a muddy slurry, wetting my socks, only to spot wooden planks a little to my right, planks which carried the correct path over the wet area. Some improvement to this path would be beneficial. Earlier paths had been improved by laying aggregate down, particularly over boggy bits. The rough stone was not always pleasant to walk on, but at least the surface was firm.

I am now settled in Glentrool campsite, a little embarrassed as I left mud in the toilet block where I undressed to shower. Unlike some campsites no mop or squeegee had been provided that would have allowed me to clean up my mess. Tonight I hope to have a good meal at the nearby pub, which at least from the outside looks an attractive, old, whitewashed Scottish building.

The remote Hotel o'Hill where I enjoyed dinner.

Stranraer to Balmurrie Fells: E2 Day 39

A sunny day to start the Southern Upland Way.

Although the Southern Upland Way does not pass through Stranraer, it comes very close, so I soon joined it beyond the town's suburban fringes. My walk this morning was along single lane roads and forest tracks by fields of grass and deciduous woodland. Many trees were blown down in last winter's storms, I passed a crew cutting them up and loading the timber onto a lorry. A helpful workman directed me around the work (far more useful than "No Unauthorised Entry" signs).

Pleasant walking through woodland.

My guidebook emphasised that I should not miss Castle Kennedy's gardens. My route took me up the drive of the estate passed the entrance to the gardens. Their proximity and, more importantly, the presence of a tea shop, encouraged me to make a short diversion. The lady on reception let me leave my rucksack with her so after a thick slice of Orange and Poppy seed cake with my coffee, I made a tour of the recommended sights. In the walled garden many flowers were still in bloom, more than I expected so late in the year. Paths intersected each other to give numerous colourful vistas. Outside the walled garden there were avenues of mature trees planted in the 18th and 19th century. One of the avenues was lined with monkey puzzle trees, their height made it apparent that they should never be planted in suburban gardens. Castle Kennedy itself was a large ruined "tower house" from the 16th century. A type of building that could be defended from a raiding party, this one was ruined by an accidental fire.

Castle Kennedy.

After Castle Kennedy the nature of the route changed. Leaving the roads it followed paths through woodland and over moors. With the sun shining through the trees of beech and sycamore and the blue scabious flowers among the moorland rushes it was an attractive walk. Posts with yellow tops and a thistle symbol marked where the trail went at the key points. Boards helped me over streams and a river was crossed by a simple suspension bridge. A ruined farmstead populated by sheep provided some passing interest.

Path through the reeds.

I wanted to camp away from farmhouses. Although wild camping is legal in Scotland I did not want to upset any farmers. In addition I did not want a cow to accidentally step on my tent. So I am now camped well away from any farm or habitation on moorland close to a large wind farm. Although there is a slight wind, it is not enough to keep the gnats away, so I have retreated to my tent for tea. Just as well as the temperature is dropping rapidly. Next to my tent is an information board put up by the electricity company responsible for the wind farm. It pointed out that the land had changed over the last 6000 years. The original woodland has long since been replaced and the scene in front of me was now moorland. They used a long barrow, (which looked like a mound of stone) visible in the distance, as an example of an earlier culture. As I prepared for sleep the sound of the wind turbine blades gently turning mingled with the "baas" of the sheep and the wind flapping the canvas of the tent.

Belfast to Stranraer: E2 Day 38

The day when I left Ireland and arrived in Scotland.

The official E2 path in Britain starts at Stranraer, chosen as ferries from Northern Ireland traditionally docked there. From Stranraer, the E2 follows a number of interlinking national and regional trails to either Harwich, for ferries to the Netherlands, or Dover for ferries to France. For both alternatives the E2 follows the Southern Upland Way, then St Cuthbert's Way and then the original British long distance path of modern times, the Pennine Way.

I decided to walk to the ferry from my hotel near the centre of Belfast. Catching the 96 bus would have been a more sensible option as it was an 8 kilometre walk on busy roads, much of it through industrial areas. Some of the roads I had already plodded along in the opposite direction to reach the centre of Belfast on the Ulster Way. Trees had been planted to make these areas a little more pleasant and at least there were pavements to safely walk on. The cranes at Belfast's port also had a certain attraction by virtue of their size and solidity as they moved containers around. 

Cranes of Port Belfast.

As is my custom I arrived early in case there were any difficulties so had a long wait at the ferry terminal, slightly lengthened by a delay to my sailing. This and the two hour 20 minute ferry journey meant I ate more pastries than I should have. Once aboard and underway I looked back at Belfast receding in the ship's wake, while a car below me sounded its alarm and flashed its indicators thinking the sea's gentle rocking was an intruder. A shower forced me inside where I found almost all the seats taken. The newspaper I had bought said consumer confidence had fallen to its lowest level since records began, however there was a full boatload of tourists (the truckers had their own lounge).

Leaving Belfast behind.

Ferries no longer go to Stranraer (although the train still waits for them at the end of the town's jetty). Now the boats dock at Cairnryan, half way up Loch Ryan, a deeper water harbour first developed in the Second World War in case Clydeside and Liverpool were made unusable by enemy action. So I had a 12 kilometre walk down the side of the loch to reach Stranraer and my hotel. I followed the Loch Ryan Coastal Path which ran between the water and the road. When overgrown with gorse and brambles I dropped down to the pebbly beach. Two helpful bridges were provided over streams, although one of the burns had now gone around the bridge, so you had to cross the water to reach the bridge. Helpful information boards described areas on the way, such as where a Norman castle once stood. 

Loch Ryan Coastal Path through Cairnryan.

Near Stranraer the road was closed for resurfacing. In typical British fashion, one man was working, operating a steam roller, another four in yellow work jackets were having a chat, two more were sitting in their vans with their engines running, another truck had its engine running but no-one inside, at each end of the site a man in a van guarded the entry, moving a cone to allow an occasional lorry through. In unrelated "activity", on the foreshore men were digging into the mud with garden forks for something, maybe lug worms for bait.

The area feels different to those areas of Ireland I recently visited. Sailing into the Loch Ryan the land each side was more remote, with few or no houses. Stranraer lies on the shore at the top end of Loch Ryan. The town of small, solid shops and houses feels huddled down around a medieval tower, ready to face storms, somewhat passed its peak, but still a lively place on a Friday night with plenty of cheerfully lit bars to choose from. As I walked into the bar that acts as the reception for my "hotel", I could feel people, all men, looking at me, an outsider. The landlord rescued me and gave me my the key to my room which has been recently decorated, is clean, tidy and reasonably priced. 

I now need to prepare for a few nights camping.

E2 European Long Distance Path through Ireland

Having walked from Galway to Belfast, I have demonstrated that existing national trails can be linked together to produce a more ambitious route that could be part of the E2 European Long Distance Path, extending all the way to Nice in the south of France. Starting from Galway on the abandoned Connemara Way, I joined the Western Way through Counties Galway and Mayo, which ended at start of the Sligo Way. At the end of the Sligo Way I made a short linking section to the Miners Way which joins the Cavan Way. This brought me to Blacklion and the Ulster Way which I followed to Coleraine. On a second trip I walked the Ulster Way from Coleraine to Belfast and caught the ferry to Stranraer in Scotland where the E2 continues.

As with any long distance path some parts were more exciting and beautiful than others. The Western Way from Oughterard to Westport, the Sligo Way from Collooney to Dromahair and the Causeway Coast Path were among the highlights, and all the hard work from Crockback Mountain to the Cam Forest on the Ulster Way was worth the effort. Rain and forest road construction probably dampened my enthusiasm on other sections. Although a lot of walking was on roads and forest tracks, possibly due to the lack of "rights of way" or "freedom to roam", legislation in Ireland, this was a lot better than walking over pathless bog, and the roads were overwhelmingly quiet and single track, aside from a section of the A2 on the latter part of the Ulster Way. I walked from Galway to Coleraine in April which avoided the midges which others have warned are a real problem later in the year. One downside was frost on some nights, which I did not expect based on average temperatures reported for nearby large towns. Rain was expected, Ireland catches the fronts coming in on westerly winds off the Atlantic, so I was prepared. However I also enjoyed many dry and even sunny days. I walked from Coleraine to Belfast in September, in weather which was largely dry and often sunny.

Almost half my nights were spent wild camping due to the lack of accommodation, whether because it did not exist, had not opened again after the Coronavirus pandemic, or was fully booked up (part of my trip coincided with the Easter school holidays and Ukrainian refugees were also being housed in Bed & Breakfast establishments). In some places the wild camping opportunities were good and tacitly accepted locally, if not entirely legal without the landowner's consent (whomever they might be). In other places wet, boggy land, tightly packed conifer trees, tussocky ground, barbed wire topped fences, farmland and frequent houses made discrete and comfortable wild camping more difficult. However with more research (I missed some opportunities), advanced planning, using buses to shuttle to lodgings, diversions off the trail and similar tactics the route could be completed with a lot less or maybe no camping. There are also luggage transfer and booking services on at least some of the route.

Compared to my first visit to the Republic of Ireland at the end of the 1970s, the country had become more prosperous, and in many ways, more like Britain. More white bungalows dotted the countryside; groceries were now purchased from modern supermarkets and convenience stores, and less likely to be from the village bar cum shop cum petrol pump; bars could equally well have been in Britain apart from the Irish accents and the lack of real ale from a hand pump; there were donkeys but they no longer pulled carts. Such is progress. 

My first visit to Northern Island was at the tail end of "the troubles", when I stayed on business at the Europa, the most bombed hotel in Europe. Thankfully the border was now no longer fortified, security was not evident and there was no longer the tension, the "edge", the possibility that you were passing a car bomb. However memorials and political parties on sectarian lines, showed that while differences are no longer the source of violence they have not been forgotten. However people did not raise the subject with me, and I prudently did not ask. However my tour of Belfast was a highlight, giving some insight into people's current attitudes.

Such matters are modern history however my trip also took me by older monuments: stone age tombs, a stone circle, a round tower and the ruins of farmhouses left by emigrating Irish. However most of the walk was about landscape and their villages - soaring mountains, dark lakes, dense conifer forests, blanket bog, sheep and poor grazing. An exploration of rural Ireland with the much visited Causeway Coast of Northern Ireland and the city of Belfast providing a contrasting experience.

Start of blog on walk through Ireland is here.

Comments on Ulster Way: Coleraine to Belfast

My trip along this part of the Ulster Way fell into two parts.

The first few days were along the north coast of Northern Ireland, mainly on the Causeway Coastal Way. Apart from a road section at the start and end it is a superb path. The Giant's Causeway is a highlight. Do not bother with the over priced visitor centre you can walk down to the "organ pipe" rocks for free. The rest of the path is also really scenic and less crowded with enough cafes and accommodation on route. 

The second part crosses various mountains, surprisingly remote with no official places to stay. I wild camped but you could arrange a lift or taxi. Between the mountains there was a coastal section with picturesque villages but a busy road to walk along (the A2). Best avoid the A2 road section from Waterfoot using public transport. You approach Belfast through farmland and then follow a green corridor through housing to the sea, at which point the Ulster Way follows the coast into town. I managed accommodation for this section by catching one of the many buses into the city centre, returning next day.

Although you could create an E2 route using the ferry from Larne to Stranraer, this would miss out Belfast, a highlight of my trip.

"Rest" day in Belfast: E2 Day 37

My planned rest day turned into an informative tour of Belfast and its past.

I briefly visited Belfast three times in the late 1990s, a little before the Good Friday Agreement ended the period of death and violence known as the "Troubles". Much has changed. Then the city appeared pretty dead at night, this time the centre was lively with bars and young people. There were new shopping centres, hotels, public sculptures, tourists and a sense of life and energy. To learn more joined a walking tour run by Arthur Magee called "Troubles Tour, Walls and Bridges". He spoke of the attrocties and demagogues, the emotions and economics, the Delorean car and the Undertones. The fear, the people who have left (although he has returned) and the hope that young, rational people will now stay. He spoke of how the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, which ended the armed conflict, has saved many lives, but the "Peace Wall", built to separate the two warring communities, still stands, the double sets of gates are still locked at night, separating people, keeping them isolated. The Peace Wall, snaking up the street, has even been extended since the Good Friday agreement. There were many messages of hope written on the wall, but by tourists and presidents. Graffiti elsewhere can tell a different story, of divisions not easily overcome. 

One view of the Good Friday Peace Agreement.

Peace Wall - still on place.

Afterwards, on my tour around the City Hall I missed Arthur's reminders about old pop groups and his jokes that flew passed, too quick for me to spot. On his advice I also visited the "Titanic Experience" near the Harland & Wolff shipyard where the ocean liner was built. An impressive exhibition covering Belfast history as well as how the vessel was constructed, sailed and sank over a hundred years ago, told from the viewpoint of the people who were part of the story. However I thought it a poor advert for a shipyard that the major attraction of Belfast concerned the loss of a ship they built, on its maiden voyage, with the loss of 1500 lives. For comparison 3720 people were killed in the troubles.

"Nula of the Hula" a public sculpture meant to symbolise something. 

In the evening I had a pint of Red Smithwicks at Kelly's cellars to hear a little traditional Irish music. The notes of the fiddle and flute tumbled out so very quickly, the music full of foot tapping energy, although it felt part of some older, lost world. Nobody seemed to be listening. Perhaps I should have asked Arthur where to go to hear the latest songs.

Monkstown to Belfast: E2 Day 36

Today I returned to Three Mile Water to walk my final section of the Ulster Way, along the banks of Belfast Lough.

My left knee was stiff today and, to my exacting eye, a little puffy. I struggled a little with my morning exercises, bending my knee as far as I could without risking injury, but by the time I had finished breakfast I had my mind on other things. The problem does not go away, I am just too busy doing what I want to do....

...which was catching a bus back to the northernmost outposts of Belfast, where I continued down the river of Three Mile Water. This was enclosed within a verdant green corridor with trees, grass and ferns hiding the surrounding suburban housing. Enjoyable walking on the tarmac paths despite dull skies and a few raindrops. A squirrel (sadly grey) crossed my path. Two concrete viaducts carried trains above me, crossing the valley a little before where an older railway stone bridge was being reabsorbed into wet greenness by mosses.

Railway viaducts over the valley of Three Mile Water.

My wild ribbon of lush nature suddenly ended at a road running along the side of the sea. After making a detour to pick up a coffee, I then dutifully and safely crossed at the pedestrian lights, then sat in a bench beside the waters of Belfast Lough. In the far distance, at the head of the Lough I could see the gantries of the Harland & Wolff shipyard and the cranes of Belfast's port. Opposite was the suburb of Holywood. Nearby a flock of eider ducks sat on the calm sea. As I followed the Ulster Way along the side of the Lough I also saw cormorants, crows and various gulls. Joining me on my waterside path were dog walkers, the occasional jogger, rare cyclists and an old gentleman with a wheeled walking frame and an oxygen supply, defying ill health to take a walk. In time the path followed the edge of Hazelbank park.

After the park there was a long length of cycle track beside a motorway. Noisy but not unpleasant given the views across the water to look at. Then the scenery deteriorated as I entered the industrial area surrounding the dockside. From there it was into the city centre for some shopping and lunch.

A gpx file of my route can be found on wikiloc.com and OutdoorActive. 

Ballyboley Forest to Monkstown: E2 Day 35

Fast walking on roads and forest tracks to the northern suburbs of Belfast.

Overnight I was gently lulled by the soft sounds of trees moving in the gentle breeze, and again it seemed sad to leave the comfortable confines of my sleeping bag. After rising to the challenge of decamping I set off downhill leaving the forest soon after. Thereafter the route traced a wide "Z" as it approached the village of Ballynure, keeping to roads with green fields each side, scattered houses and farms. My arrival in the village coincided with the start of school, the road blocked by parents dropping off their small, well groomed children. Not expecting to find a café, based on my perusal of Google Maps, I was delighted to find "Jackson's" coffee shop open, where I enjoyed a modest cooked breakfast (and a toilet). Funny how unexpected food brightens my day!

Suitably fueled I briskly walked on through the next village of Straid. I had been seeing signs and banners relating to the Queen's death over the last week, in Straid lamposts stood in for flag poles with the Union Jack hung at half mast. The Orangemen's hall had even more flags, even extending across the street. A contrast to an old and neglected Masonic Hall I passed on leaving the village with an exterior of white peeling paint ornamented by black lines and insignia. A man with a paint brush had just started to bring it back to its former glory.

A lamppost stands in for a flagpole so that flags can be hung at half mast.

Throughout today I was sampling the blackberries growing in the hedgerows. Some were sour, others squashed as I tried to pick them. Between the two they were sweet, soft and luscious. 

After more roads I entered Woodburn Forest, walking down the main track admiring the sycamores each side just turning yellow (the leaves also had black spots). Then I realised I had missed a turning. I should have just continued, following a shorter and probably more interesting route by a lake, instead I pedantically retraced my steps to walk the "correct" route of the Ulster Way through the less attractive conifers. 

Some of today's road walking.

Walking through Woodburn woods (on the wrong forest track).

After the woods there was more road walking, a farm track and then I was at Three Mile Water. A green corridor surrounded by housing that would lead me to the sea. By now I had walked 27 kilometres (including my wrong turn) and was tiring, the soles of my feet starting to burn. There were 12 more to reach the centre of Belfast, so I decided to catch a bus from Monkstown, a suburb on the northern edge of the urban area surrounding the city, to a budget hotel near the centre. I will return tomorrow or the next day to complete the final stretch.

A gpx file of my route can be found on wikiloc.com and OutdoorActive. 

Carnlough to Ballyboley Forest: E2 Day 34

A day with grand views from the edge of the Antrim plateau, out to sea towards Scotland.

Fortified by a cooked breakfast at the Londonderry hotel I was off down the A2 road again. Branching off onto a quieter road I reached the village of Glenarm, where the streets were silent, the river was still, the castle gardens were closed, and no shops were open, maybe as today was Queen Elizabeth's funeral. Maybe not as quiet as I thought as later in my walk, a man said he had seen me in Glenarm. I think I am invisible, or at least not memorable, but obviously not.

I started on the long climb from sea level up to the Antrim plateau, following a road for the first few kilometres then turning onto moorland where the Ulster Way remained for most of the day. After some difficulty with gorse bushes the track was well marked with posts, soon climbing up onto the plateau. Initially it shared the route with the International Appalachian Trail as well as the Antrim Hills Way. The posts had information boards attached, mostly about the minerals found here, which was strange as very little rock was exposed, all covered by rough grass, apart from a curiously shaped standing stone. The track had been reported as rough and muddy but it was considerably better than my experience near Trostan summit yesterday. Apart from a few muddy sections later in the walk, and one very muddy section in which my boot disappeared, it was easy walking on firm ground. Some of the stiles were high and wobbly but I managed to negotiate their widely spaced steps safely, if without elegance. 

Curiously shaped but apparently ancient standing stone.

View from the top

The most scenic parts of today's walk were above cliffs or steep drops at the edge of the plateau with from which you could look down to the sea. In the distance the island of Ailsa Craig and the coast of Scotland was visible, below a patchwork of fields and the towns of Ballygally and Larne. Larne was an alternative ferry port from which boats sail to Stranraer, where the E2 in Scotland begins, so I could have diverted there rather than heading for Belfast. But as Belfast has had such a prominent role in recent history it seemed that bypassing it would diminish the value of this trip around Northern Island.

Larne is in the distance.

Maybe as it was a public holiday for the funeral, many people were in the hills, often with their children, something which I am sure the Duke of Edinburgh, with his belief in outdoor activities, would have approved. Indeed I was told that people completed their D of E awards in these hills.

There were descents and ascents, in one broad pass between mountains construction work, maybe for wind turbines, forced a trail diversion. Once I spotted the white topped posts this detour was easy to follow. Later on, entering a forest a sign said "No Unauthorised Persons", no diversion was given nor was there an obvious alternative route. Most unhelpful. As it was 5:30 pm on a bank holiday I thought it unlikely anyone was working, in this I was correct although I had to struggle over a wide avenue of broken branches and mud.

Nearing the end of the Ballyboley forest and with populated farmland ahead I needed somewhere flat and discrete to pitch my tent for the night. On one side of the track the trees had been clear felled leaving uneven ground. On the other side, possibly due to the lack of shelter those trees had previously supplied, there was a long row of trees blown down by the wind, their shallow roots now vertical, exposed for all to see. Fortunately I found a grassy track between old trees and those more recently planted. After climbing up it a little way I discovered a moderately flat area for my camp. My only concern (apart from the gathering gnats) was that the track was made by motorbikes. I hoped they were not planning to drive up here tonight.

A gpx file of my route can be found on wikiloc.com and OutdoorActive. 

Slieveanora to Carnlough: E2 Day 33

A tiring day; rough, boggy moorland and forest to start and a long road walk, threatened by speeding cars to finish.

Listening to the patter of rain drops on your tent while cocooned in a warm sleeping bag is one of the great pleasures of camping. Unfortunately you then have to get up and pack, a more taxing experience as you try and keep everything dry. I left my well hidden camping spot about 7:00 am following a forest track to a road and from there I began my climb up Trostan, a mountain draped in wet moors. There were no definitive paths, just lines of mud that came and went among the moss, rushes and grasses. Occasional posts marked the route which I looked for as I struggled to avoid deep wet holes. The hummocky ground was not good for my knee, I could feel pain on the inner side where I knew the meniscus (the cartilage in the middle of the joint) had thinned. I was hoping my exertions would not make it go altogether, resulting in bone on bone contact. 

The Ulster Way (which shares the route with the Moyle Way) took me to south west of the summit and into forestry. Here the path, a brown line that passed between lines of planted conifers, was equally rough, with fallen trees, slippery roots and soupy peat into which my poles disappeared. The track itself often disappeared, reappearing a tree row or two to the left or right to avoid some obstacles. Inevitably my progress was slow, but the route was not without beauty, red toadstools dotted the rotting pine leaves beneath the trees. Later the path surfaced above a waterfall and gorge.

Forest path with red toadstools.

In time I crossed a road onto a forest track and another road into the Glenariff Forest Park. Here there were views down the narrow, deeply incised glen, which was choked with trees, living and fallen. At the subsequent car park there was a view down the main, broad valley of the Glenariff river, down to the sea, or there would have been if it were not for the drizzle which washed out all but the closest features. A shame as it seemed a handsome feature with a broad valley floor and steep sides, a break in slope on the south side maybe hinted at the underlying geology. More importantly there were toilets and a café by the car park, where I mingled with a Canadian coach party touring Ireland to order coffee and a sandwich. 

A road followed in which there seemed a large among of fuchsia growing wild in the hedgerows, something I also noticed yesterday. Then a path along side the small Glenariff River, which had been straightened and seemed to be used for field drainage. I could see pebbles beneath the clear water but no fish... or red squirrels which I was still looking out for.

In the village of Waterfoot there was a game that looked like rugby in progress with a good crowd of people watching and Irish flags on display. It was probably Gaelic football. I would have diverted and asked but I was tired by the morning's exertions and still had 15 kilometres to go. 

They were hazardous kilometres as the Ulster Way followed the main A2 road which was busy with cars and motorcycles. With two lanes, no pavement, blind bends and high hedges I did wonder if I had been wise to follow this route. A shame as there were attractive views across the sea to nearby high headlands and up the steep hillside. There were two sections where the trail diverted up less busy roads although at a cost of some climbing. One passed between large slabs of white rock and a college with an eclectic mixture of old, stone buildings and modern prefabricated units. An old, shiny black car stood outside, maybe a Ford Popular, the occupants inside enjoying their lunch.

A2 Coast Road

Carnlough was an attractive town with its old harbour. A bridge and an elevated section seemed to be associated with a long abandoned mineral railway. Some of the bikers that raced along the coast road were parked on the harbour, their Harley Davidsons and Royal Enfields smartly polished.

Carnlough harbour

Ballycastle to Slieveanora: E2 Day 32

 A return to forests and mountains.

I woke with a sore throat and a stiff knee. Exercises helped loosen my knee, not sure why I have a sore throat, hoping it is not sign of some developing infection.

My pack was rather heavier today as I was wild camping tonight and unsure of accommodation in the days beyond, so I was carrying extra water and had stocked up with food. With Sunday and a bank holiday for the Queen's funeral it seemed prudent as shops might be closed.

Deciding against a second coffee in the town centre I left Ballycastle on a path following a disused railway line. The route then swung left and right as it climbed up through Ballycastle Forest on forest tracks. Unlike many this was a mixed woodland with a variety of trees, the red berries of the Rowan trees particularly caught my gaze today. The forest was also a potential battleground in the war between red and grey squirrels. Red squirrels still clung on here but were under threat from the advancing greys. Any sightings of grey squirrels had to be reported to a telephone number advertised on notices. I looked out for squirrels of any colour but all I spotted was a few hazel nut shells, apparently a sign of squirrels feeding. 

A road section followed on which I was monitored by cows in adjacent fields, and a large inflatable dinosaur. Initially the walking in Breen forest was easy on forest tracks made of gravel. A few people were about, a jogger, another person with a backpack, but otherwise I had the forest to myself. Then the route suddenly departed into more difficult terrain, uneven, muddy ground, dense ferns and large clumps of rushes. Although my GPS gave the general direction only broken bracken stalks and the occasional footprint told me I was on the correct track, but for a while things were difficult. This "path" deposited me at a wooden bridge, after which a muddy track climbed up a watery valley to a forest path with waterlogged sections. A subsequent forest track had an "Authorised Persons Only beyond this point" sign. Having no intention of retracing my steps over the difficult terrain for several kilometres with no idea of where to detour, I of course ignored it. Being Saturday I did not expect to find anyone working, however I reached a digger depositing matting beside the track. He kindly stopped to let me pass.

Rowan tree in berry beside track

Typical forest track.

After more road and forest tracks I reached a winding road through moorland to the top of Slieveanora, where I shared the summit with two large aerials and a sign stating it was a nature reserve. Near the top there was a memorial to US airmen who died in a crash here in the Second World War. From the top there was a fine panorama. I could see down to the sea and beyond to various parts of Scotland. 

View from summit of Slieveanora.

My final section for today was over rough, boggy ground on vague paths in the moorland peat. Reaching firmer gravel roads in the Slieveanora Forest I looked for some flat ground on which to pitch my tent for the night. The method of planting trees seems to involve creating ditches between them, and these ditches together with fallen trees and deep spongy moss meant that pitching under the trees was not an option. Fortunately a small stream had resulted in a gap in the planting and there was flattish ground between the meanders. I picked a spot invisible from the forest track and pitched my tent for the night. Small irritating gnats meant I was soon sheltering inside. Later the soft, tinkle of the stream lulled me to sleep.

A gpx file of my route can be found on wikiloc.com and OutdoorActive.