Giant's Causeway to Ballycastle: E2 Day 31

For the first half of the day this was a fantastic, coastal walk, much of it along cliff tops, then there was road walking into Ballycastle. 

Last night at the hostel people gathered in the common room where a 66 year old called Jeff regaled us with conversation and tried to form a band. He once had Bono support his band, but last night he was short of people who could play an instrument. Despite being a Republican from Belfast he spent several years in the British Army (Signals), serving in Northern Ireland. Now he said his doctor had given him six months to live (pancreatic cancer). He asked me what I would do if I was in the same situation. I said I would put my affairs in order to make it easy for my wife after I was gone. He was drinking whisky from a bottle, the others were sharing chocolates. Hostels have the advantage that you can hear different perspectives. There were people from Oregon, Georgia, France, the Punjab, England, Ireland and Wales in the room. 

After a light breakfast I was on my way around 8:30 am, being careful not to wake the other occupants of my dormitory who had stayed up later than me last night. The first part of the day was along the cliff tops above the Giant's Causeway in a blustery wind. Massive, massed columns of basalt stretched along the cliffs, a wall curving around the many inlets. The sea crashed against the headlands, the foam brilliant white in periods of sunshine outlining the cliffs. White horses rode distant waves. The sea seethed while the rocks stood impassive.

Early on I found a rucksack and belongings scattered across the path and adjacent grass. I was worried about what had happened to the owner, although feared to look in the bushes around me in case an urgent call of nature had caused them to drop everything. An incorrect assumption, the owner appeared from up the path carrying some items. He said he had camped on the cliff top but a sudden squall this morning had blown his tent down and he had to make a rapid decamp, moving his belongings piecemeal to safer ground. I thought it fortunate that the wind was blowing onshore, otherwise the consequences might have been more serious. 

Cliff top view

Dunseverick Castle was located on an easily defended promontory, with steep slopes or cliffs on each side. However only a few walls were left of the castle itself so I did not bother to climb up to it. 

Later the path went through a tunnel or natural arch in the basalt, where it was cut by an ancient fault, and then changed character from an easily walked, gravel path to a clamber over rocks. A sign warned that the trail could be covered at high tide. My left knee was struggling to bend enough as I climbed over the wet boulders, I regretfully recalled confidently jumping from rock to rock in the earlier days of my life. A curve of sand spread out before me guarded by a herd of cows. Why were they on the beach, and why were they dotted with green burs? They stared at me as I was forced to pass close by their noses. At the far end of the beach (called Whitepark bay) rocks acted as stepping stones where the sea lapped against the base of the cliff, I wondered if indeed I was on the correct path, but it was as indicated by my digital maps, and I failed to find any alternatives higher up although I searched for them.

Whitepark bay with cows

Small harbours, once used by fishing boats, dotted the coast. Ballintoy harbour boasted that it was used for a scene in the TV series "Game of Thrones". Old lime kilns towered above the carpark, a closed café and an artist's trailer. Fortunately a kilometre or so further on the tea shop at the car park for the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge was open and serving toasties and ice cream. Sadly the rope bridge itself was closed due to high winds, in compensation the National Trust official pointed out Raitlin Island, the Mull of Kintyre and 50 miles away, the distinctive dome of Ailsa Craig, a small island where the rock is quarried to make curling stones.

Almost all the remainder of the walk to Ballycastle was on tarmac roads, a quiet, pleasant single track road through farmland and less pleasant two lane roads with frequent passing cars. Ballycastle itself was a town with a larger harbour and many small shops along the high street. I stocked up with some food as I would be crossing more remote areas in the next few days, and the shops in the villages could be closed for Sunday and the late Queen's funeral on Monday.

Ballycastle harbour

I am in an Airbnb in a quiet suburban street of white houses tonight, and enjoying a meal in a local pub. Tomorrow I expect to be wild camping.

A gpx file of my route today can be found on wikiloc.com or outdooractive.