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. 

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.

Portstewart to Giant's Causeway: E2 Day 30

An attractive coastal section, with seaside towns, a castle ruin and the Giant's Causeway. 

The day started cool, the wind blowing as I left Portstewart. Now the trail followed the coast on generally good gravel paths among tussocks of grass, the sea crashing on black, basalt rocks nearby. Periodically the path dropped into little glens, crossing a small stream on a wooden bridge. Dog walkers and joggers passed. A lady attracted a large number of gulls by scattering bread for them on a stretch of grass behind her house.

An arc of sand backed by a promenade announced the start of Portrush, beyond which there was a small harbour with an orange RNLI rescue craft and many smaller boats. In one of the streets, verses from the bible were prominently displayed warning of the consequences of not having your name down in the book of life. After following the perimeter of the headland admiring the distant views I diverted to the main street and just made Bob & Bert's café as a sudden heavy shower began. The rainfall soon stopped giving plenty of time for me to overdose on sugar with a heavily iced Red Velvet cake.

Looking back at Portrush

Beyond Portrush there was a long sandy beach, popular with dog walkers and a few hardy swimmers. Rick, the hostel owner at Portstewart suggested going beyond where the Ulster Way leaves the beach in order to see a natural arch in the chalk rock which formed the cliffs at that point. However I was stopped by a man who explained they were filming a children's program and could I not continue? So I climbed up the sandy path to the top of the cliffs to continue on the Ulster Way. It was a scenic route. In addition to spotting the filming below me I could see a few natural arches cut in the rock by the action of the sea. Today the sea was in constant movement, white topped waves whipped up by the wind. At the base of the cliffs the sea smashed against rocks, creating a lather of foam, brilliant white in patches of sunlight.

Dunluce Castle.

Dating from 1550, Dunluce castle stood on a promontory into the sea, its ruined walls a monument to a more troubled time, when clans fought each other, or the English, else the Irish attacked the rich occupants. After looking around I continued to Portballintrae, entered via an overgrown path. Like Portrush it was built on a headland with a small harbour.

The Ulster Way briefly followed an old railway, its rusty rails now abandoned. Then after a large stone built house, and a few headlands the cliffs above the Giant's Causeway came into view. The cliffs were now of basalt, formed when lava flows solidify, the tops of each flow was visible as lines in the cliff.  On the cliff top there was a memorial to two airmen who had died here having crashed during a training exercise, complete with poppy wreaths. Earlier I had passed a concrete arrow which was used to direct trainee bomber crews to a practice target.

Looking towards Giant's Causeway

The Giant's Causeway is a UNESCO World Heritage Site which means it attracts lots of visitors. As I approached the Giant's Causeway Visitor Centre I could see eight coaches, and there were more around the corner. After checking into the nearby hostel, named after Finn McCool, the giant responsible for the causeway, I returned to walk down to see the "organ pipes" of basalt that are called the Giant's Causeway. These columns, roughly hexagonal in cross section, were formed as molten lava cooled 60 million years ago. There are columnar basalts elsewhere in the world but these are pretty good. 

Columnar basalt on the Giant's Causeway 

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

Back on the Ulster Way; Coleraine to Portstewart: E2 Day 29

A return to the Ulster Way and a walk beside the busy A2 road before a final, attractive, seaside and cliff walk around Portstewart.

After a long period renovating an old property I returned to my walk on a possible route for the E2 through Northern Ireland. My confidence in completing my planned five week trip was not great. Despite working hard pulling down ceilings, scrapping off wallpaper, making tradesmen cups of coffee and the like I was a few kilos overweight, maybe due to the Belgian Buns I had gained the habit of eating for elevenses, (along with the chocolate biscuits intended for the workmen). In the last month or so I had few opportunities for long walks and was feeling unfit, unready for days of hiking. My last trip of any length was at the start of July, when an opportunity to visit Austria arose. Sadly my walking was limited to a few days as I fell ill. However I did complete a respectable 29 kilometres and a 1700m total ascent on my second day in the Alps and still managed a third day of walking, but that was over two months ago.

In addition to lack of fitness I continue to have discomfort from my left knee (arthritis and the effect of an old injury). It creaks alarmingly when bent, as if seized by rust after years of lying idle. Indeed both knees become stiff if I sit too long, making them move again is painful. Not a good start for a long walk. I never know if such walks make my knee worse or better, I only know that I do not plan to be idle for the remainder of my life.

Bristol airport was a good advert for the railways, with long delays for security, a consequence of having only two of the many security machines in operation. However, the train and ferry to Belfast was considerably more expensive, would have taken longer, and risked being cancelled by strikes in an endless industrial dispute.

 

Coleraine town centre looking towards Town Hall.

My flight to Belfast was followed by a bus to Antrim and a train to Coleraine. Wandering through the town along the pedestrianised streets I reached the handsome, yellow stone town hall. There I noticed directions to a book of condolences for Queen Elizabeth who died just a few days ago. While views may vary on the monarchy the death of the queen after reigning for so many years is undoubtedly a historic occasion. Certainly she has brought joy to many people. Some years ago she stopped at the old people's home where my wife worked bringing much excitement and happiness to its elderly residents. I signed the book after a white haired lady who was struggling to walk, and wondered what happens to all these books of condolences? Are the signatures counted as a measure of the stature of the queen? Are they archived for research by future generations?

With such thoughts I progressed along the road to Portstewart. Much of the way was beside the busy A2 road. WalkNI the body responsible for the path classed this as a "link" section and advised avoiding it by using public transport. However, there was pavement or cycle path all the way, so the walk was not at all hazardous. This year's hot dry summer has ended and there was a cool wind and some drizzle. Tractors went by with trailers loaded with freshly cut grass, green from recent rains. Gradually the lower stretches of the River Bann came into view on my left.

After the Portstewart sign and some houses the Ulster Way left the main road and at the end of a long sandy beach, joined the Causeway Coast Path. This last section was a joy to walk as it kept close to the edge of the sea where the waves crashed on rocks of basalt, before rising up the side of the cliff  and eventually depositing me on a shop lined street in the centre of Portstewart, where it ran alongside the sea. From there it was a short walk to my bed at Rick's Causeway Independent Hostel, followed by a shower and dinner at a friendly if noisy pub. (I have noticed that the word "Causeway" is attached to many things in the area, even the local council has the word in its name).

Causeway Coast Path around Portstewart 

Castlerock to Coleraine and home: E2 Day 28

After four weeks on the road, time to return home.

After a truly, enormous breakfast I started my nine kilometre walk to the town of Coleraine. A peaceful road walk all the way among fields. Better pasture than most I have seen on this trip, the growth of new grass this spring is adding to the lush greenness. Scattered houses, the Irish seem to like spreading out.

Road to Coleraine.

Coleraine had a river and neat town square but I did not tarry long. Having booked a flight I wanted to get closer to the airport before relaxing. I need not have worried, the train was on time and glided smoothly through the countryside to Antrim (closer to Belfast International Airport than Belfast). As only a short bus trip remained I visited a barber in Antrim's main shopping street. I wanted to look an attractive husband for my return home. Discovering I had been walking the barber told me of a trail race he had completed in the Mourne Mountains, very proud that his team had come second, but then he was a boxer so he was fit.

With some time spare I followed the river walk to Lough Neagh, learning it was the largest freshwater lake in Britain and Ireland. On the way I passed a "dog park", where various breeds were practising on a doggy obstacle courses, one for small and senior dogs, another for Alsatian sized animals. Crossing over a bridge I entered the Castle Gardens. Although the 17th century castle burnt down in 1922 in suspicious circumstances, the gardens are still impressive with a terrace, parterre, "canal" and interlocking paths along which people were enjoying a stroll.

Lough Neagh

Looking over "Six Mile Water" to the Castle Grounds, with some of the building's remains visible.

Catching the bus to the airport coincided with pupils of a local school going home. I was amazed that, seeing there were a few of us older people wanting to catch the bus, the large group of school children parted, standing aside to let us through. Courtesy is not yet dead among the young! Not that I am that happy being an older person, on principal I refused the pensioner discount at the barbers. After an uneventful, if slightly delayed, flight home, and another bus and train, I had a surprise. Despite the lateness of the hour, my wife and dogs came to met me as I walked back from the station, all seemed pleased at my return.

Cam Forest to Castlerock: E2 Day 27

A beautiful, sunny day for me to arrive at the north coast of Ireland.

I still had 30 kilometres to reach my Bed & Breakfast tonight, so I was up early and on my way by 6:15 am. Commercial forestry was the theme for several kilometres, rows of conifer trees, probably sika spruce, the favourite of the industry for its fast growth. However it was pleasant, sunny weather and I enjoyed the ramble, making good time. There were a few interim sections of road between forests. On one very fast road, the rare Sunday morning car could be heard from a considerable distance away, sounding like an aircraft taking off as it raced up the black top towards me. Fortunately there was a good grass verge.

Wind turbines beyond the forest in the pink morning light.

After reaching "Bishop's Road" there was the possibility of an optional loop through Binevenagh Forest, including a viewpoint above cliffs. However I had enough distance to walk without adding more, especially as my knee was feeling decidedly shaky, complaining with dull but persistent pain. So I continued down the long road, leaving the trees behind, the sea of Ireland's north coast in front of me, in the distance but slowly coming closer. 

Two police cars and a fire engine came by me. I reached the fire engine parked at the Gortmore viewpoint. In answer to my query, one of the fireman said there had been a gorse fire yesterday and they were back to check it was fully out. For a few kilometres I had been looking at the large inlet of Lough Foyle to my left, and the viewpoint gave an even better panorama. I could see as far as Scotland, one of the firemen pointed out the Isle of Mull (or was it Islay) on the blue horizon. There was also a statue of a pagan sea god with outstretched arms.

View across the mouth of Lough Foyle.

More road walking followed against a cold wind. Castlerock village, my destination, still appeared very far away despite my efforts (partly because I was looking at Port Stewart and not Castlerock). On this road I met my first backpacker of this trip, carrying a tent like me. He was following the Ireland Way which runs down the middle of the island of Ireland from north to south. In Northern Ireland it follows the Ulster Way. He was a little disappointed when I confirmed there was a long uphill section ahead of him. 

A little before Castlerock the path deviated from the road and my tiredness dropped into the background as I was distracted by a few things. Firstly by Downhill Forest the Sea Shack was selling coffee which I enjoyed with sticky Lemon Drizzle cake listening to the nearby peacocks squawking. Secondly, Downhill Forest was different to the commercial forests I had been walking through. There were deciduous trees, a lake, wild garlic and bluebells coming into flower, all made more attractive by the sunlight filtered through the trees. Thirdly, after Downhill Forest the Ulster Way follows the road, but I found a much more attractive route through Downhill Demesne, a National Trust property of trees, a lake and bog garden among other things (no payment required). 

By this route I arrived at Castlerock and admired its long sandy beach. From the start of Downhill Forest many people were about, enjoying a sunny Sunday in the woods or by the sea. However there was room at a café for me to have another coffee and a healthy bowl of granola and yoghurt.

Castlerock beach.

All that remained was for me to walk a few more kilometres to the Bed & Breakfast I had booked at nearby Articlave.

Dungiven to Cam Forest: E2 Day 26

Two mountains climbed today and a boggy walk.

I was apprehensive about today's hike. Dermot Breen in his book "The Edge" described part of it as "bog hell" in very downbeat terms. In addition to crossing this bog, I needed to climb two mountains and walk at least 30 kilometres so that I could reach Castlerock tomorrow and the flight I had booked home the day after.

Benbradagh was the first mountain, rising up behind Dungiven. I was soon pushing up its steep, bare sides, looking down from the road at the white buildings of the village below me. A hard climb but on a good tarmac on a sunny day with great views, so it was not too distressing.  Beyond the high point of the road the land dropped gently as the trail passed the foundations of an old, abandoned US Navy cold war signals base. Lost in thought I continued down towards a wind farm missing a turn. After retracing my steps the Ulster Way took me across a boggy patch and through a forest. There was then a lengthy section, mainly on road, before the second mountain, Donald's Hill. Cherry blossom in the gardens of scattered houses, a bank of daisies, an avenue of ash trees and similar distractions helped me on my way.

Looking back to Dungiven from the road up Benbradagh.

As I approached a road junction, two walkers, a father and daughter, came out of it, both touching the Ulster Way signpost (a bit of a superstition among some walkers). On my asking about the mountain and the bog beyond, the girl pointed to her wet feet. They said to look out for the posts (explaining that the direction arrows and Ulster Way symbols were missing from them) and also the yellow sticks that marked where the trail went. 

To reach the summit of Donald's hill was a steep climb, but at least the ground was dry, with either grass or apparently dead, brown clumps of heather. Halfway up there were two lime kilns and above them a limestone quarry. Examining them, and looking back towards Benbradagh, gave an excuse for a rest! A little below the top I rewarded myself with lunch (an "Italian chicken" wrap I had bought this morning), any higher would have been too windy. At the summit, braving a strong breeze, I admired the sights in all directions in particular towards Lough Foyle to the west, then I started the dreaded bog walk.

Although the going was slow, I found the bog better than I feared. Maybe it was dryer than when Dermot Breen was here, or maybe there were now more posts to guide you. Having a GPS also helped steer me in the right direction (strongly recommended). Part of the route was on a bank, raised about the wetness of bog level, and it was on this causeway that I crossed paths with a large group of men and women. They were on an ambitious hike of maybe 26 or 29 miles (they did not seem to be sure). Maybe their multiple footsteps made the rest of route across the bog a bit clearer.

Looking back across the bog at Donald's Hill and to Benbradagh beyond, the lighter strip curving in front of Donald's Hill is the raised bank I walked along. 

In time I reached the gravel roads of another wind farm. Here the breeze was strong and the turbine blades were turning briskly (going "wum, wum, wum"). Forestry followed with some huge stacks of cut timber, scatterings of violets on the short grass beside the gravel track and a collection of bright yellow arum lily type flowers growing in a ditch which, according to my PlantNet App were Western Skunk Cabbage.

Huge stacks of timber with lots of signs warning not to climb on them.

In the next forest, after a brief walk over fields and a road, it was time to start thinking of where to camp. The bed of green moss between the rows of some of the more mature trees was wide enough for my tent, but it was really spongy when I stepped on it. A result of its great thickness accumulated over many years, burying branches that had fallen into it. Instead I followed an abandoned side trail. Rather wet, but I found a moderately dry patch to pitch on. Midges were about. Visiting in April they have not been a problem, but later in the year I could foresee them being a great irritation (as I found when walking the West Highland Way last June).

According to my GPS my total ascent (the amount of height I climbed in total over the day) was over 1100 metres. While this was common on some long distance paths I have walked, it has been unusual for my current trip through Ireland where the route has generally avoided summiting mountains and where those mountains rarely exceeded 400 metres.

Crockbrack Mountain to Dungiven: E2 Day 25

A morning climb to the top of Eagle Rocks (Craig-na-shoke) followed by a bog walk, forest tracks, fields and roads.

When I left the tent in the night for a call of nature, beneath me the many tiny lights of towns and villages on the plain twinkled in the dark, it felt as if I was looking down on my kingdom, although not for long as it was too cold to stand around looking, and I quickly cocooned myself back in my tent and sleeping bag. Then as I left my tent this morning, high on the side of Crockbrack Mountain, I looked down on the misty lowlands of Northern Ireland bathed in a pinky glow by the morning sun hidden behind clouds. It looked beautiful to me, but the cold made me hurry on with cleaning my teeth and packing up. 

Morning view from my campsite on the side of Crockbrack mountain.

I slowly warmed up walking down into the village of Moneyneany. Too early for the shop to be open I kept going along the roads until I reached Moydamlaght Forest. There the Ulster Way took me up the mountainside on curling, climbing forest tracks. Above the forest there was a cliff, Eagle Rocks or Craig-na-shoke. The Ulster Way worked its way around it, crossing a stile of an unusual design. It only had one upright each side with blocks nailed to it for steps. Although it looked easy to cross, due to the lack of lateral support, I found myself swinging onto the top of the barbed wire I was crossing. My trousers caught on the barbs and it took me some effort to extricate myself, fortunately with only grazes to my leg, no blood as far as I could see. 

Unusual, single leg stile, more difficult to climb over than it looks.

Something less than a stile, another fence crossing with some protection from the barbed wire.

After scaling the ridge and admiring the scene behind me, trying to spot where I camped last night on the far side of the broad valley, I needed to find my way across the bog. Apparently Ireland has 8% of the world's blanket bog and finding my way across this bit proved difficult. Fortunately I could follow the track on my GPS as there was little evidence of one on the ground. On reaching a fence, with stuff wrapped around the barbed wire to allow a safe crossing, I found that some kind soul had marked out the next section of route over the bog with yellow painted sticks, sometimes with "UW" crudely marked on them. They were a great help, although they led over channels of sodden peat and moss, they did lead me to the remains of a stile into Glenshane Forest. A faint path then lead to a place where religious ceremonies had taken place. There was a small shrine to the Virgin Mother, and a cross marked "The Priest's chair" with coins balanced on the cross bar. Wooden logs had been set out as "pews". I thought it might have been a "Mass rock" where Roman Catholic services were held many years ago when Catholicism was banned, but it all looked too new.

The Ulster Way then took me down a succession of forest roads among the conifers, those still standing and those that had been harvested. Once they have cut the trees down and taken the good timber a lot of wood still seems to remain in jumbled piles. Could it not be used for firewood or pulped for paper? Debating such questions in my mind I somehow transitioned to the reform of the House of Lords before leaving the forest and changing my focus to finding the route over farmland and in particular where to cross a fence. The answer was at a wooden bar that provided slight protection from the barbed wire below. This was at least the third somewhat inadequate fence crossing of the day.

The path among the sheep joined a track, which transitioned into a quiet road that led me to the busy A6. I had been hearing traffic on the A6 for some time as I walked along the other side of the valley and worried that I might be exposed to the risk of a traffic accident on joining it. However, the authorities, no doubt thinking of me, had built a pavement so that I could safely walk into the village of Dungiven.

A cry of "help" interrupted my thoughts of coffee and cake as I headed down the main street. An elderly man was struggling to stay up and his wife needed some extra support. We got him seated on a window sill and I made sure he did not slip off while the lady called for her son. Apparently he had an irregular heart and this was not the first occasion he had lost his strength to stay up. I waited with them until their son arrived telling them about my walk and enquiring about coffee shops. Soon I was in one enjoying two raspberry and white chocolate scones with my latte.

Tonight I am in a glamping hut. Very nice in a blonde, wooden lined, Scandinavian, railway carriage sort of way, but expensive for a single person. In my research it was the only place I could find (apart from a campsite a little way out), but I have now discovered there was one B&B establishment my research missed for some reason. 

More memorials today and a mural celebrating the dead Republican fighters. High walls surrounded the Presbyterian church, actually part of a former police station. I found it depressing.

Gortin to Crockbrack Mountain: E2 Day 24

Much of the day on hillside roads with a valley below and mountains beyond, finishing with a climb up Crockbrack Mountain.

I left the campsite as quietly as my tent's zip and the gravel drive would allow so as not to disturb my camping neighbours. Then after a coffee from the local shop, my day's trek began at 8 am. Much of the day was on quiet roads, half way up the hillside. The first milestone was Barnes Gap, a pass through the ridge I was following where many roads seemed to cross. A rusted car wreck distracted from the rustic charm.

Barnes Gap.

After the Gap there was a long stretch of road along the side of a valley. Below were rectangular fields of grass, some dotted with distant sheep, white blobs against the prevailing green. White houses gathered around the busier road on the far side of the valley. Above me and on the mountains on the far side of the valley was moorland, or rather blanket bog, the peat and sphagnum moss holding copious amounts of water. Streams rushed down from higher ground, crossing under the road, cutting deeply into the hillside. A man in an orange earth mover was clearing the roadside ditch of mud and rushes, depositing the debris on the verge. A red fox was prowling across the fields parallel to the road, not scenting me at first as I was up wind, I followed for a little way until I was spotted and he took flight. The sun was out so my sun hat was getting an airing and for a brief time, my bare arms.

I had been noticing on this trip that when cars passed me on single track, country lanes, and especially when I stepped onto a verge to avoid them, the driver often raised a hand, or a finger from the hand on the steering wheel. I took this to be a greeting, or maybe a thank you for keeping out of the way. When I saw it in time I raised a hand in reply. (On the days after posting this I noticed that drivers no longer did this, a change in manners as I headed north?)

Towards the top of the valley the next milestone was a line of standing stones (Goles Standing Stones), erected next to a modern house, thousands of years BC for an unknown reason. A little after I stopped at the Goles Forest Car Park. I was hoping for at least a picnic table (my wild imagination also had a café and toilets), but there were none of these things so I ate my lunch leaning against a International Appalachian Trail sign.

Goles Standing Stones.

Crockbrack mountain was my next challenge. Being open hillside I was concerned about becoming "bogged down" in sphagnum filled holes, peat hags, water filled channels and other irregularities designed to catch my knee. Fortunately the ground was not too wet and there was a track for part of the way. Quad bikes or similar had also left tracks I could follow. From the crest of the trail (when I eventually reached it) I could see a huge distance to distant towns and hills. Too hazy for good photos but uplifting, making me forget the tiredness I had accumulated over the previous 18 miles.

The plain from Crockbrack mountain.

In this exalted state I wondered about pushing on through Moneyneany to the next forest to camp. However the hillside going down from Crockbrack Mountain was too good a place to camp to miss with its extensive views, remoteness and lack of habitations, and as it was around 5 pm I chose a flattish, dryish spot to pitch my tent.

Mellon Country Inn to Gortin: E2 Day 23

Although the Ulster Way went to Gortin by a lengthy route, it was one that provided attractive views in the sunny weather.

In a straight line Gortin was under 9 kilometres from where I started today at Mellon Country Inn, however the Ulster Way was to take over 22 kilometres. For the first 6 kilometres or so it was heading in the opposite direction, and that was not the only time today it headed away from, rather than towards Gortin. But this roundabout routing was worth it. After fields of lush grass, more prosperous farmland than that of my journey so far, I arrived at a forest where my climb into the mountains began. On reaching the high ground I could see for many miles thanks to the excellent weather as well as the height. Down on the distant lower ground, among the rectangular fields, the scattered white houses stood out in the sunshine. Bessy Bell, lost in the clouds yesterday, was standing proud today in all her finery, attended by a row of white wind turbines. To the north the mountains I was to cross in the next few days looked deceptively attractive in their moorland dress, although I expected my hikes there would be difficult in the boggy conditions. I was walking through the Sperrins "Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty" (AONB) and in today's weather it seemed to justify this accolade.

View down from South Sperrins.

One thing spoilt my enjoyment. From near the forest entrance I was joined by a brown and white dog. A jogger, who it been following before attaching itself to me, said that he would follow me for a while and then return home. By lunchtime he was still following (or rather walking ahead of me and checking that I was following). He wanted to play "throwing sticks", he offered several pieces for me to throw, which I ignored. I ate my packed lunch by some picnic tables at a scenic spot with a great view where others were eating. Ignoring him I hoped he would give up or join someone else, but no, he amused himself chasing cyclists and van's. When I started off again, he followed. Eventually I told him in no uncertain terms he was not wanted and he took off down a trail. A little later I realised I should have taken the same trail and had to follow. My confusion was because the Ulster Way was being rerouted. I passed the men putting up the new posts, and doing so very efficiently. So I ended up following part of the new route and then having to cut across to the old trail as indicated by my GPS. This led me down to an area busy with people enjoying the Easter school holiday near the Gortin Glen Car Park. There was a waterfall, a little ravine, attractive paths among the trees, a play area and a café (sadly with a long queue otherwise I would have bought some refreshments). As I left the area I noticed in the distance the brown and white dog following another group. I do not think it was the first time he had enjoyed meeting, and stressing, people here.

New Waymark posts being erected, they were quick but thorough, digging a hole with an powered auger, inserting the post, surrounding it with concrete and making sure it was vertical as the cement set.

On the other side of the road to the car park the track was quieter. It led through another forest, with some beautiful stands of mature larch and pines, the light falling through them making patterns on the grass below. On reaching the road again, the Ulster Way again took me in the opposite direction to Gortin to show me the Gortin Lakes. People were even swimming in them.

Path among mature trees.

Gortin Lakes.

On finally reaching Gortin, after buying a coffee and provisions from the Nisa shop, I had another two kilometres to walk to reach "The Meadows" campsite. After settling in, on the advice of my host I walked down from the campsite to the river to see the sand martins and the holes they live in at the top of the river cliff. A bit like swallows but not so graceful, they swooped around in the air above me catching insects as the ripples on the river sparkled, reflecting the light of the lowering evening sun.