Curran Caravan Park, Larne, County Antrim, Ulster

                       

Our relocation yesterday was eased by fine weather, a rarity these days. Perhaps after such a hot dry summer, the British Isles are to be besieged by wet cold autumns, or perhaps this is just normal?

We came south on the A26 and M2 to Balleymena, then turned east onto the A36 which took us across more elevated and sparse farmland to the coastal town of Larne. As we approached Larne, it was immediately obvious that this is a town of industry rather than a seaside resort, high chimney stacks and large buildings in view. The camp is situated within the town, roads and residences visible beyond the fences, and yet it is a neat and tidy affair, and quieter than you might expect. On arrival we were greeted by the manager who emerged from his caravan wearing what appeared to be pyjama pants and tee-shirt. While most welcoming, his Irish accent was heavy and hard to understand, however we all managed somehow. I did have to laugh as he was directing Chris on to the site, something he prefers to do without outside assistance. Here was Nelson shouting helpful advice in that almost unintelligible accent and Chris half-deaf because he refuses to wear his new hearing aids; what a pair!

Larne has a population of less than 20,000, and has been used as a seaport for over one thousand years, today a modern freight roll-on-roll-off and passenger port; perhaps the passengers do some rolling on and off too.

The chimneys we saw belong to Northern Ireland’s main power station, natural gas fired Ballylumford, providing half of all Northern Ireland’s electricity. 

Always interested in the more recent turbulence, I read that during the Troubles, Larne had a significant paramilitary presence and suffered a number of IRA bomb attacks, the most memorable a large car bomb at the King’s Arms hotel in 1980. Between the years 1972 and 2000 there were numerous shootings, murders and bombings, perpetrators and victims on both sides. As we have travelled about Antrim, both the previous day and yesterday, we saw the halls of the Orange Order which I guess are a bit like the Union Jack flying in everyone’s face; all a bit antagonistic.

Last night we were subjected to high winds and rain; the van rocked and rolled and kept me awake for some time. But there was a plus to this wakefulness; through the weather noise I detected the sound of Irish music, real traditional strains, those we have been seeking for the past few weeks.  Sometimes treasures are in the least expected places.

This morning the wind had blown itself out and blue skies appeared from time to time, promising a good touring day. However today’s excursion was delayed until after Andrew Marr’s weekly political affairs programme was over, even later than in the past because it has been rescheduled to a later slot in the morning, something I am sure than many more than us are not happy with. However lunch was already packed into the car along with jackets and our travel library, so we were ready for a quick getaway.

We set off up the A2, the road hugging the shore for the extent of our trip, which was to complete the coastal route from Ballycastle to Larne. North of Glenariff, which had been our most southern spot before turning inland two days ago, the coast road, only some of it the A2, the rest a minor road, takes one up and over and through steep and rugged land, above a more inaccessible beachfront.

Today our road was atop the sea wall of rock and concrete, above the gently lapping waves rarely more than two or three metres below us. Today the North Channel was a relatively calm sea, offering a comfortable route for the few cargo vessels and yachts we saw sailing up and down the coastline.

We pulled in at Balleygalley at the boat ramp from which we had clear views across the bay. Here there was a group of girls readying themselves for a rowing exercise and fisherman preparing his small craft for a food gathering trip. (Or do they have to put the fish back here too?)

We carried on north stopping next at Glenarm, the most southern of the Glens. Here there is a castle which opens its walled garden to visitors for quite a hefty fee considering it is only the gardens one sees. We gave it a miss but did spend some time wandering about the little village, or more correctly across the river bridge and around the well sheltered forty berth marina. 

As we made our way we passed by St Patrick’s Church and the scant remains of Glenarm Friary established here in 1465. The church was built three centuries later and remains in use today. 

However the yard where the friary once stood is now a weedy graveyard. Apparently an act of parliament banned burials within the confines of the dissolved monastery, but the ruling was ignored by both Protestants and Catholics, and the friary continued as the most important place of interment in Glenarm. They are a feisty lot, these Irish.

Out from the shore we could see a cluster of salmon farms, the tops of their net cages just visible above the surface, and beyond that again, Scotland just forty kilometres away. Here we learned that there is archaeological evidence that proves that people have been across this North Channel to exchange goods since 5000 BC.

Tradition has it that this is the oldest chartered village in Ulster, having been granted its ancient decree by King John when he landed here in the 13^th century. These days it is a very quiet spot, perhaps a little busier in the summer when folk come to wander down by the beach or head out in their boats housed in the marina.

We lunched here after our little walk, and no sooner had I packed the eski away again, did a trailer diner pull in and commence their set up. Just as well that we had already eaten because I do know someone who would have preferred chips and hot dogs and burgers to their homemade sandwiches. And given that we are half a week into a new healthy regime to combat our expanding girths, this would not have been good.

Back on the road, we soon arrived at Carnlough, a wide most attractive bay  with a matching village. I was keen to stop but The Chauffeur was keen to drive on, especially having decided it would be good to connect up the dots on our touring map. So on we went until we came around Garron Point and into Red Bay. From here it was clear why Glenariff is referred to as the “Queen of the Glens”, the river valley descends to the sea between such high spectacular cliffs, as opposed to the wider more gentle valleys of those further south. When we travelled though Glenariff two days ago, we had barely brushed one corner however our greater observation today did not endear us further to the village. It is the Glen itself that is the star.

So we turned and headed back down the coast, this time a little slower and noting the buoys out from the shore, marking set nets to be gathered later in the day. We also noted the hedges of purple flowering hebes along one bay and thought it so odd to be seeing our native shrub used thus, and even more, that it was here in such abundance.

Back in Carnlough we struggled to find a park. Members of a Mini car club had arrived in great numbers, en route from Carrickfergus near the southern extent of the A2 just north of Belfast to Ballycastle on the north coast. We wandered along the lines of cars, amazed to see Mini utes and a Mini panel van, vehicles we had never seen before. Some members were there in their Mini Coopers, which are like tanks when parked beside a true original Mini. 

We spent some time checking out the little marina here, a rather quaint affair full of boats which Chris reckoned were some of the ugliest craft he had ever seen.

Carnlough owes its more recent industrial wealth to Frances Anne Vane-Tempest who was descended through her mother from the Antrim’s of Glenarm and as a result inherited an estate of some 5,000 acres from her. However it was her father’s inheritance of rich coal mines in north east England which made he the most eligible heiress in the country when at eighteen she married the forty four years old Lord Stewart, younger brother of the British Foreign Secretary and architect of the Union of Ireland and Great Britain, Lord Castlereagh. Lord Stewart (later Lord Londonderry) seized the opportunity to further increase the family fortune in this area by developing the immense potential of the limestone works. The building of the limestone Harbour was part of this process of development, along with the mineral railway line now a walking track. The limestone was exported to Scotland to be used in chemical works in Glasgow. It was also applied to the land as an early fertiliser, in order to increase yields of crops to feed the vastly growing number of people migrating to the towns and cities.

From Carnlough we headed inland, up the River Glencloy, following the A42. We passed through the most appealing Broughshane, a mass of flowers, in baskets and in pots. Soon we reached Ballymena, that large town skirted about when we travelled south from Coleraine yesterday. We called into Halfords for a few motor accessories and then decided against checking out the centre because it seemed we would only be seeing the same high street stores one find in every other UK town. Instead we headed home via minor roads, via Kells, Connor and Tildarg, the latter too small for our Tomtom to acknowledge. Arriving in Larne we shopped at the Asda store for fresh produce before returning home in time for Chris to watch Lewis Hamilton win the Singapore Formula One race. Needless to say I found other activities to amuse myself.