(Carrick-A-Rede Rope Bridge)Oh to be on the coast. There’s just something amazingly calming to be near the sea, especially when the weather cooperates. Balintoy is a lovely, sprawling coastal village with a population of about 200 but when walking the street (yes there’s really only one main road) you would think the population hovers somewhere around 20. There are two pubs, and a small shop that offers the most limited of provisions and a few souvenirs for tourists. The harbor is set a little ways from the main village where there are a few houses, a church, and the harbor with a café that is open in good weather. Just over a mile to the east is the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge and a few miles to the west is the famed geological treasure that is Giant’s Causeway.
We found the Sheep Island View Hostel across the street from the bus stop and were directed to our room. The cool thing about this hostel is that it’s literally in the middle of nowhere so it’s very open. There are no keys you just come and go as you like and hope some crazy doesn’t sneak into your room at night or steal your stuff. Anne and I were the only two in our four-bed dorm with en suite bath so we really got our money’s worth. Seamus, who runs the hostel, is a lovely middle aged Irish man who must have kissed the Blarney stone a few times in his life for he certainly has the gift of gab. We were told about all there is to do in the area and about an hour after our arrival found ourselves walking the footpath towards the rope bridge. Now I won’t lie, I’m not a big fan of heights, something I think I inherited from my father so you can understand my hesitancy to go and walk across a bridge made out of rope that is stretched between the mainland and a small island 90 feet over the roaring sea. The bridge is owned and run by the National Trust (remember we’re back in the United Kingdom here) and therefore free to loyal members such as myself so I didn’t even have the excuse of ducking out for monetary reasons. By the time we got to the actual bridge, which was about 1.5km from the ticket booth, I have mentally psyched myself out and was at the point where I just didn’t care anymore. “Hello heights” I said confidently, “you don’t scare me!” I took a couple picture of the thing before placing one foot in front of the other and beginning the not so long walk to the island. I didn’t dare look down on the way across and once I was about halfway I realized it was actually kind of fun. How exhilarating it is to be standing 90 feet over a deep blue sea, crashing against the cliffs with nothing holding you up except some thick pieces of rope and planks of wood. There wasn’t much on the island except an old fisherman’s hut and a scattering of birds that were probably quite interesting to birdwatchers and the like. A rope bridge has been used in that spot for over a century when fisherman used to go to the small island for its access to some of the best salmon in the area. Although the present bridge is newer and constructed to specific safety standards, I’m sure, it’s awfully romantic to think of century old fisherman erecting a similar bridge, teetering across the gap with supplies in hand for a day of hard work. After crossing back over to the mainland (this time I looked down and lingered about half way across) we walked around the cliff and perched ourselves on a grassy bank overlooking the coastal cliffs to take in the glorious surroundings until the wind told us it was time to seek shelter. We dined at one of the two eating establishments in the town, The Rope Bridge Bar, and then sent the rest of the evening watching tele in the common room and writing postcards.
(Me on one of the rock formations at Giant's Causeway)Giant’s Causeway was our morning goal and after a good night’s sleep we were ready for it. The legend of Giant’s Causeway is a lovely romantic tale, which I wish I could tell more comprehensively but for now I’ll just tell you the gist of it. A long long time ago there was a giant who lived in what is now Northern Ireland, he fell in love with a woman giant on the Scottish isles just a dozen miles across the sea. In order to get to her he built a causeway that stretched across the distance out of basalt rock. There was then another giant who after fighting with the lover giant ran across the causeway, destroying it behind him and thus separating the lovers forever. I’m sure there is a more eloquently told version of this story somewhere if you so choose to know but hopefully that gives you an idea. Now the Giant’s Causeway is the only world heritage site in Ireland and creates a spectacular expanse of polygonal columns of layered basalt that juts into the waves. We spent quite some time clamoring over the rocks and taking pictures from every conceivable angle. It is, I think, one of nature’s best natural jungle gyms. As you walk along the coast you see other geological rocks that are attributed to the giant including his boot, a set of organ pipes and the chimneystacks. After soaking in as much of the causeway as we could we grabbed a light lunch at the National Trust café before walking 2 miles to the town of Bushmills, home to the oldest licensed whisky distillery in the world. The distilling process was informatively covered but the real perk of the tour is getting to sample the final product at the bar. I tried an anniversary whisky while Anne went for one of the calmer single malts. While cautiously sipping the potent stuff we chatted with the tour guide about various things such as the local area, our studying abroad, and California. Despite all my talk about alcohol, I’m not so inclined to sip the hard liquor straight but I did my best as I was told whisky is not supposed to be mixed. Anne and I both drank up and then hit the gift shop (I hit it a little harder than I’d meant) before winding our way back to the bus stop and our ride to Balintoy.
(The Giant's Organ Pipes)Our last day opened up with glorious weather and we congratulated each other on saving it for our coastal walk. In order to get as much coast time as possible we back tracked to the rope bridge visitor center where we purchased a bit of lunch and then proceeded to follow the sunlit path along bright green pastures and a deep blue sea to our right. At Balintoy harbour we sat out in the Irish sun while I enjoyed a morning ice cream and Anne sipped on a fruit smoothie. We found a cave that we poked our heads in and watched the glassy water that flooded the floor before moving on to clamor over rock formations that graced the place where the sea met the land. Our goal was to get to along White Park Bay where a lovely beach stretches for a mile or more. I had a child like moment when I saw that the beach was coming up around the corner I left all reservations behind and ran over the uneven grass just so I could feel the breeze on my face, hear the waves lapping louder as I came nearer and the smell of sand met my nose. The water was ridiculously clear and we ran in and out with the waves as I collected shells. Always thinking about photo opportunities I proceeded to lie out on a rock like the little mermaid and placed two of the shells I’d gathered upon a strategic location, if you catch my drift, while Anne gigglingly snapped some shots. It was at this point where we thought how funny it would be to pose topless among the rocks and the sea. Realizing we weren’t at a nude beach we were a bit more discreet and positioned ourselves with the rocks so that we looked bare topped but were actually covered by the great invention that is the sports bra. Needless to say we have some absolutely priceless photos. Strolling along the white sand, we searched for the perfect spot to sit down and enjoy our picnic lunch. After eating and lying out for a while I thought the weather was so nice that it would be lovely to stick my feet in the water. Apparently I had some short-term memory loss and forgot that I was actually in Northern Ireland on the 53 parallel north of the equator, the water is in fact rather cold. I managed to stand in it for about 27 seconds before running in the opposite direction. After our relaxing break we still had more than half the beachy inlet to cover before heading back towards Balintoy. We were aiming for Portbradden on the Eastern point of White Park Bay and also the location of Ireland’s smallest church. In order to get there along the coast we were forced to negotiate a series of formidable looking boulders sandwiched between the cliff face and the rising tide. Unfortunately our hike back to Balintoy was not as picturesque as the first part and we trudged along the road for 3 or 4 miles, jumping up onto the hedge bank every time a car passed, which for a rather unpopulated area happened a bit too often for my liking. Once we got back to the hostel we had a bit of a rest and turned our attention to deciding where to have our last dinner in Balintoy.
(Collecting shells at White Bay Park)We returned to the Fullerton’s Arms, the second of the two pubs in the village where there was a bit more selection on the menu and a younger atmosphere. We had no idea that when we went in for dinner we wouldn’t be leaving the pub until 4am. After our yummy meal we were invited to play pool with a guy called Andy who we had seen at the pub the night before. We played pool and chatted for a while before another Andy, who also happened to be the cook at the pub, joined us as well. Around 11 we broke out some cards and learned some new games until the pub was just about closed to customers when it turned into a “lock-in” basically that’s when a pub closes the doors to the public and anyone who works there, is a local or people like us who make friends with the bar staff stay in. Ryan, the bartender and temporary manager for the week joined our table as well. At some point Andy went to get his guitar and before I knew it we had turned the lights down, lit candles on the table and I was playing a small intimate gig of whatever I could remember to play which ended up being a couple random songs and a load of Avett Brothers tunes. It was so fun; I can’t even describe the atmosphere. I also learned how to pull a proper pint of lager and Guinness. Despite some protest, Anne and I decided that it was best to get a couple hours of sleep before catching our 9:30 bus to Belfast and walked back up the street to our hostel under the clearest night sky I have seen in a long time. It’s safe to say that we definitely had an incredible three days in Balintoy.
(White Park Bay to the West)
