United Kingdom 2006
 
 

Day 11

August 29

 
 

The Chimney Corner Hotel is a really nice place that also does a good job of breakfast. The interesting thing over here is that the motel/hotels are usually more expensive than the B&Bs - which is usually the exact opposite in the States. And when you throw in breakfast with the room, it really is a value. But this hotel is an exception, being reasonably priced and including breakfast.

 
 
 
  We soon leave the outskirts of Belfast - Newtownwabbey which is about 7 miles north to be exact, and head up the coastal highway, A2, toward the Giant's Causeway. It is a day of sunshine and rain - something that I will just get used to when riding in Ireland. This run along the coast is known as one of the most scenic rides over here and it lives up to it's billing - even in the rain.  
 
 
 

We make a short stop in the pretty village of Carnlough which has an interesting history. Some say that St. Patrick had something to do with it along the way. Also, one of its claims to fame is that the local Londonderry Arms Hotel was formerly owned by Winston Churchill. It is better known for it's lovely harbor which is just a short walk for us.

 
 
 
  The high masonry wall provides for a well protected harbor, full of fishing boats that do it for a living, and a few pleasure boats. It was originally built by the owners of some local stone quarries which explains the fine stone work. Just as it is in coastal Scotland, I realize that the sea is an integral part of life in coastal Ireland.  
 
 
 

From Carnlough, it's a short ride up to the Giant's Causeway. It is a very interesting geological site of uniform basalt columns on the coast, but I like the legendary explanation much better -

"In Ireland, lived a gentle giant called Finn MacCool. At fifty two feet six inches, he was a relatively small giant. The two Giants hollered across the sea of Moyle, each demanding a trial of strength. This was agreed, and hospitable Finn offered to make the contest possible by building a rocky causeway between the two countries. But to do this he needed some helpers - which tells how Finn built a path across the sea from County Antrim to Benandonner's lair - Fingal's cave on the island of Staffa. But the work was so laborious that Finn fell asleep with exhaustion. Oonagh was Finn's wife, a giantess, and she woke up early the next morning to find Finn sound asleep. Then she heard the sound of thunderous footsteps and saw the mighty Benandonner approaching. He was truly gigantic. Finn would be no match against this Scottish giant. Quick thinking Oonagh covered the sleeping Finn with a nightgown and bonnet.


"Where's Finn?" bellowed Benandonner.

"Where is the coward hiding?" as he peered at the sleeping Finn.

"Be quiet," Oonagh warned Benandonner, "or you'll waken the bairn!"

Benandonner panicked. If the child was this big, how much bigger might Finn be? He did not stay to find out. He hastily retreated across the causeway, destroying it in his wake."

 
 
 
 

Once you make the walk to the seashore, you can easily imagine the giants having at it, stacking the stepping stones. The mostly six-sided stone columns are so uniform that they appeared to have been made in some sort of form. And the tops of the columns make unique stepping stones that lead right from the cliff down to disappear under the sea, furthering supporting the legend. Another interesting fact is that on the Scottish side at the site of Fingal's Cave on the isle of Staffa the exact same type of rock formations appear. So maybe there is something to this giant business after all. ...

 
 
 
  I take a walk down the steps to the ocean as the giant Benandonner must have done in his haste, and sit a spell just to contemplate quietly. It is places like this that I used to read about in Encyclopedia Britannica at the library as a poor kid in the hills of Tennessee. Back then, I never dreamed that one day I would actually see them with my own eyes.  
 
 
  As we make the way back up toward the gift shop, the deep blue of the ocean captivates me. Back home in the coastal areas, it's usually a pale green or such - not this beautiful hue.  
 
 
 

Once we get to the gift shop, I browse a bit through the many crafts and souvenirs. I decide that I will buy myself a tin whistle and maybe learn how to play it one of these days.

Our next stop is just down the road at the incredible ruins of the Dunluce Castle, started in the thirteenth century. The only way to originally reach the castle was across an arched stone bridge. Over it's long history, part of it has actually fallen into the sea below and it had often been besieged.

 
 

 
 

Many legends and ancient stories are connected to it, telling tales of ghosts and hauntings and such. It has sat serenely on these high sea cliffs overlooking a view that probably has not changed for centuries.

 
 
 
 
Near Strabane, we come to the border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. Heading southwest, it is marked by the welcome sign to County Donegal, part of the Republic of Ireland. This was once a very bloody area of great heartache during the Protestant and Catholic warfare.
 
 
 
 

Highway N15 takes us down through the town of Donegal to Ballyshannon, where we stop for a break. It is the oldest town in Ireland, receiving Royal Charter in 1613. The area is said to have had visitors dating back to 2700 BC It also is a very nice place to have a cup of tea for a bunch of modern day motorcyclists out for a lovely ride.

 
 
 
 

We arrive at Strandhill, just northwest of Sligo in about 3 hours. Keith once again has secured a B&B for himself, Miss Ellen and me, while the rest of the group will camp at an oceanside campground. As I stand looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, I know that somewhere across the miles is my beloved wife and my beloved Holler.

 
 
 
 
Strandhill has a well known reputation as a great place for surfers in this part of the world. The waves just continuously roll into the sandy beaches and there are nice places to camp and stay in the area. I almost wish I had brought my camping gear for this stop because there is nothing like going to sleep to the sound of the ocean waves.
 
 
 
 
Keith, Miss Ellen and I ride up to the Burmah Lodge B&B Guest House where we will be putting in for the night. Once again, Keith has hit a homerun for a place to stay so I have forgiven him for the first night in Scotland - almost. The accommodations are excellent and I can see an inlet of the ocean from the front porch.
 
 
 
The plans for dinner are to meet at The Strand Pub back in the village proper for dinner. When we arrive, I am greeted by O'Bubba a local rottenweiler. It sure does make me homesick for my big boy, the original Bubba.
 
 
 
 

We grab some tables in the back to get out of the way, then the folks running the place usher us upstairs to a larger area so that we can all sit around one table. I order the fresh cod baked with parmesan cheese and it is a real knock out. I'm not much on seafood at home because you just can't get it fresh. But over here so close to the ocean, it is not a problem at all and what I have had is fresh and good. It's been a very relaxing day, with only 200 miles or so in the saddle. But it has been one filled with grand Irish history and beautiful scenery, so who could ask for more? After dinner, we bid the rest of the crew a good night and make our way back to the B&B. As I pillow my head tonight, I know that there is a only a couple more days then I will be back at the grind. But at least there are a couple more days ....