Tullans Country Holiday Park, Coleraine, County Derry, Ulster

                          

This morning we set off with a clear itinerary, but a moveable one in that there was no specific final destination for the day. In fact the touring plan for the two days here is one long continuous route, tomorrow to be picked up from today.

So we headed north to Portstewart on the north Atlantic coast, Derry’s largest coastal resort which was reported to be full of Victorian boarding houses. As we drove through the centre to the Strand to the west of the town, we were unimpressed with what we saw. The Portstewart Strand is a long firm sand beach where vehicular traffic is welcome, and which apparently has some of the best surfing in the country.  We were not keen to drive upon the sand, something that does no favours to the undercarriage of any vehicle, be it a 4WD, SUV or a summertime convertible, however we did have to drive onto the beach to turn around before reaching the kiosk where there is a fee to visit. This was the first of many National Trust managed spots along this north coast we were to come upon today, our membership a welcome benefit yet again. 

We continued on to Portrush, just across the county border in Antrim, another seaside town where many students from the Coleraine university find cheaper accommodation, or perhaps they simply like being closer to the beach. This seemed a very hotchpotch affair, a town that has grown like topsy, and with all the construction going on now, it will continue to be so. We stopped down by the beach where I ventured out into the cold wind with my camera before we continued on to see places more to our taste.

A little distance west we pulled into a parking area from where there were views back toward both seaside towns, and closer, the White Rocks, steep white chalk cliffs standing staunch above the wild seas. To the east we were able to see the ruins of Dunluce Castle, a 16^th century castle dramatically situated on the edge of the cliff. The precarious nature of its position is such that in 1639 the kitchen fell into the sea. One can visit Dunluce Castle, for a fee, so there must be enough of the structure to warrant the commercial nature of the attraction.

On we went, through Bushmills, best known for its whisky distillery, soon leaving the A2 for the B146 which follows the shoreline more closely, this mostly a series of spectacular high cliffs. It is on this road that the world famous Giant’s Causeway is to be found, so we and dozens of coaches, and hundreds of tourist occupied cars converged on the visitor centre, a relatively recent addition.  This opened in 2012 at a cost of £18.5 million, designed by Irish firm Heneghan Peng Architects who won the competition run in 2005. It’s a very modern “green” building, sunken into the ground, with a turf roof,  and made from local basalt, quarried and placed to imitate the towering basalt columns of the volcanically formed Giant’s Causeway. 

When the centre opened after eighteen months of construction, there was a huge hue and cry about the entrance price which expands if you take advantage of the bus; this takes the less fit or time poor down to the end of the vehicle track. For us, it was simply a matter of flashing our National Trust cards yet again, and as for the transport, this too would have been free, but we chose to walk down to see the main attractions, and then on up a more challenging walking track as far on around the cliffs as we were able. 

Erosion over the past years has closed some of the tracks at the far end, but we still had a real treat seeing the geological wonders that make up the Causeway.  We returned by climbing the steep stepped track to the top of the cliffs, from where we enjoyed wonderful views down over the entire area and over the sheer mass of tourist who chose to visit today, and watched with wonder three kestrals flying out over the Causeway from their nests on the cliff side.

We have seen columns and tessellations such as these in Australia, and those were bigger and better, but not a collection of all in the one place; we were very pleased to have come although it would have been so much better in sunshine and with less wind. 

Back on the road, we paused again at another attraction, this Dunseverick Castle, another 16^th century structure. Today there is little left but the ruins of the gatehouse perched on the top of the cliffs. Here once was the capital of the old kingdom of Dalriada, which spread over north Antrim and Scotland, and the terminus of one of the five great roads that led from Tara, that ancient meeting place we visited when we were in Dublin.

Ballintoy was our next stop, the intimate little wharf at the foot of a narrow tortuous road, once a hive of industry but today the set of the ever so popular Game of Thrones. Just as there are Lord of the Rings tours in New Zealand, there are Game of Thrones tours here. Today we watched a small coachload of tourists, or fans, dress up in costume such as they might wear if they were extras in the film series. This was certainly entertainment for us, although not so much as to distract us from the natural charm of the place. 

Interpretative panels about the harbour with old photos allowed us to imagine the schooners lining up to take away buried limestone and sett stones for export  to the major ports of the British Isles. There are the remains of the lime kilns built in the 1700s and redeveloped a century later. In the late 1800s, the sett stones, were hewn in nearby quarries, worked by over a hundred men. Now it is all a film set or a spot for tourists to call in for tea or ice-creams.

Just along the road from Ballintoy is another reference to past industry, now just a tourist attraction and one that draws those wanting a thrill. Carrick-a-Rede, derived from the Scottish Gaelic meaning the rock in the road, is an island accessed by a rope bridge thirty metres above the sea. For over three hundred and fifty years fishermen used this to access the best places to catch migrating salmon; nowadays it is yet another National Trust administered property, the car park about one kilometre from the bridge head reached by an easy cliff top path. 

I could say that we walked the bridge and explored the rugged island, but I would be lying, and while I admit to slight dramatization in this blog, I do not lie. Instead we walked along that cliff path, enjoying the views and picking the odd blackberry. The wind was still cold and our exertions at the Giant’s Causeway had wearied me somewhat. The effort to descend to the bridgehead, and then climb back to the top of the island and crossing, then reverse the route, all seemed a bit much.

Despite that, when we arrived in Ballycastle further east, we parked up at the quay and walked the kilometre or so up into the town, all up hill. By the time we were halfway back to the car, drizzly rain arrived.

Ballycastle harbour is an ancient port, but the celebrated history of the township revolves around Hugh Boyd and its creation. In 1721 Hugh Boyd took over the Ballycastle Colliery Saltworks under Fair Head, salt and coal were shipped from harbours along the shore. In 1737 Boyd planned to build a new harbour here to increase coal exports to Dublin.

Financed by an initial grant of £10,000 from the Irish Parliament, Boyd built his harbour in the bed of the River Margy with the East Pier on the Strand, where the Marina Pier is now. As a highly respected coal-mining expert and patriotic businessman, Hugh Boyd was known to his peers as the “Star of the North”. To his hundreds of employees and many tenants he was simply, the “Squire”.

Boyd built the first railway (or tramway) in Ireland in the Cobb Colliery under Fair Head, 1721. He then built a second at Ballycastle , over whose rails a single horse could pull three wagons full of stone from the White Ricks quarry for the harbour works. The harbour and inner dock were finally  completed in 1748. The tramway was also extended along the shore to the colliery, bringing imported rock salt for refining at the salt works.

At its height, Hugh Boyd’s Ballycastle was one of the most important industrial towns in Ireland. Not only coal was exported but barrels of salt from the saltpans on the shore, linen from the bleach works (sent as far as Philadelphia), wine bottles from the Glass House and leather from the tanneries. Among the many imports were wheat, Indian meal, timber, iron, glazed window frames, crown glass for windows and all sorts of general goods needed for a growing town.

Today the town was busy with locals shopping and collecting their children from school. Much of the land near the harbour is bare, once home to the industry of the glory years now long gone. Even Boyd’s house looks ready for demolition, simply biding time as gallery to a series of architectural ideas.

The afternoon was now well on and the weather looked like closing in, so we headed back toward Coleraine  via a network of country lanes and minor roads. We arrived home before the worst of the rain and in time to make calls to campgrounds; we are now booked a week ahead.