Day 5 - Tuesday / Ballyness Bay, County Donegal - Ballintoy, County Antrim / 120 miles

22/07/2014 / Tuesday / Ballyness Bay, County Donegal - Ballintoy, County Antrim / 120 miles

Fig. 1. The view I have to wake up to this morning.

After last night's peaceful sleep, which I wish could have lasted longer, I'm woken up by a tractor going past on the track, then soon followed by a herd of early morning joggers and then another vehicle of some sort or other, finally deciding for me that the world was awake and it was high time to get up and meet it, it’s a bit too busy, this quiet spot!

So I get up quickly pack, have breakfast then hide my bags, in a handy depression in the dune, and wonder over to visit my neighbours, finding them half-way through getting their youngsters ready for a traditional Irish School Club. Where they learn their native Irish language, by going out on field trips for the day, plus it gets them out from under feet for a bit. Helens friends leave to take the kids and we go back to my spot, as she’s intrigued to see my camp set up and how I can carry all my stuff on my bike. She suggests I provide a kit list on my blog, which could help others, as I’ve come up with some novel storage ideas, that might help others in their own kit set up.

I say goodbye to Helen, as she heads back to her camp and I pack up the bike, which is no easy task, having to both hold up the bike and load at the same time, due to the soft ground. Once I’m good to go, I swing past my neighbours and wish them well, having to refuse tea, as I feel I have to make tracks, as I strongly feel the road calling to me.

After a short distance, I turn onto the N56 leaving the R257, then follow the N56 North through Dunfanaghy, being unable to not snigger, like a small school boy, then follow the road South-East through Letterkenny and then the N14/13 through into Londonderry or Derry.

I stop in at a café, at Bridge End on the N13, before Derry, which has Wi-Fi, giving me a chance to catch up on news. Before this trip I’d half planned a trip to Ireland, for the year before with a good friend of mine, unfortunately this fell through. But at the time there were three Irish men I worked with so, I took the advantage of asking them, as locals, for their suggestions of places I should visit. It was also handy that they were from different parts of Ireland, so when I plotting their suggestions up on Google maps, it formed a rough route around the coast. All I had to do for this trip, was re-hash this plan and add a few more additional places on, after doing some further research on the internet. Unfortunately I had forgotten, to print myself out a handy hard copy of this list of places of interest, but I did handily have it on a USB stick. The café, unfortunate, had no means of printing this out for me. So using their Wi-Fi I found a postcode for Derry’s library, which was suggested to me by one of the café’s staff, as a likely place to be able to print off my list. Most importantly I vaguely remembered there being nothing to see on the list until after Derry, whilst on their Wi-Fi, I also grab a campsite postcode near Ballintoy for tonight’s stop.

As I get back to the bike, a couple that are sitting in their car parked next to me, suggest that I’m very trusting, leaving all my gear with the bike and warn me that it’s not a good idea around this area. I shrug my shoulders, as I’m either going to have to carry everything with me all the while or rely on peoples good faith, which I know might be a bit dumb, but I have hope!

I plot in the postcode for Derry’s library and ride the short distance into Derry. I find the Library, which is off a one way road and have to ride past in search of somewhere to park the bike. After a while and having not found anyway suitable, I park up on the pavement just outside. I ask someone sat on a nearby bench, if he thought it would be okay to leave it where it was. He offers to keep an eye on it for me, which was nice but unnecessary, none the less he did just that. I run in and quickly print off my list of places to visit. They run a limited access time to their computer terminals and I managed to grab a few additional postcodes, before my allotted time runs out as my Satnav was being daft and not recognising place names.

Back on the bike, I have a quick ride around Derry before leaving, it seemed nice enough but nothing struck me enough to write about. I head out of Derry on the A2/A37 and stop at a petrol station in Coleraine. I find my phone, has discovered signal and I make a quick call to my friend Mike Jansen, who will be joining me in Dublin in a few days' time, with his partner Alexa and another friend Alex Kerrison.

Coleraine is one point of a triangular motorcycle road race circuit, called the Northwest 200. Even though I’m a biker, I don’t tend to follow the racing scene and until a few weeks before, I had never heard of the Northwest 200. I plot in the triangular route of the race course and set off going in the opposite direction, to how it’s actually raced. I ride through Port Stewart, which has a busy seafront with its usual tourist trappings. Then between Port Stewart and Port Rush, I ride over the official Start Line, with its painted line-up grid markings on the road surface and follow the road around a tight corner marked with black and white painted curb stones. Then I pass through Port Rush and finally back in to Colerain. I get a sedentary 22 minutes as my reward both without hammering it or doing any daft overtakes, with my full luggage on, I’m happy enough.

Fig. 2 - Bike on pole position!

I ride back through Port Stewart, and couldn’t help but stop for a few pictures, of the bike positioned near the grid start lines, before carrying on along the coastal road. A few miles on, I spot what looks like a ruined mansion, perched on the top of the cliffs, looking out over the Irish Sea, soon I pass tourists signs telling me it’s called Downhill House, being curious I pull into the visitors car park. There are information sign boards, dotted around the edge of the car park and since there’s no one around I lazily ride the bike up to each one, for a quick scan, taking photos for a more detailed read later. Though what I quickly learned, was the house dates from 1770, and was built for an acentric Earl, the 4th Earl of Bristol, 'Frederick Hervey', who also commissioned a library in the shape of an Italian temple, that now, due to cliff erosion, sits precariously close to the cliffs edge. A car turns up with a few teenagers, who look me over with a few sniggers. At the time I felt a little self-conscious, but afterwards shrug it off.

Riding along and enjoying this coastal road, I forget what’s on my list of places I want to visit but cannot miss the signs for the Giants Causeway. Its evening, but I decide to pop in anyways, as the light from the low sun is casting a warm glow over everything. As I roll into the car park, the attendant walks over and tells me to hang on for 10 minutes, until he clocks off when it’ll be free for me to go in.

What I didn’t realise at the time, but learned further along on my trip, was that you can also legally drive past the car park and down to the Giants Causeway, as it’s a by-road and no one has any legal right to stop you using it, but best to use this knowledge in the evening, when there’s no one around, as I could imagine the road would be packed with people walking.

Whilst we wait for the time to pass, we have a good chat about travelling around the area and what he recommends seeing, including the 'Carrick-a-Rede' rope bridge, which is not too far further along the coast.

You can walk to the geological columns, via one of two routes; the first runs along the cliff tops, down past exposed columns in the cliff face and then down to the sea, and then back up the by-road. However I went the opposite way, through the tunnel and down the road, missing the fact that you need to go up and over the bridge, to start on the cliff route which was recommended by the attendant.

Fig. 3 - The walk down the by-road towards the geo-columns.

I found the walk from the car park, worked well at the time, as I could see these stubby pillars leaning into the setting sun-light in the distance, providing a surreal sight, as I walked down towards them.

Fig. 4 - View of the columns emerging from the sea and

Fig. 5 - marching up into the hillside.

Fig. 6 - Trying to use the light well.

Fig. 7 - Not all columns appear to be 6 sided?

I managed to clamber all over them, unimpeded by people, as an added bonus of arriving late in the day, provides. I try to be semi-creative and use the light well, but I think it would be nigh on impossible to portray these geometric geological shapes in any new and unique way.

Fig. 7 - Walking through the gap between columns, brings you into the next bay.

Fig. 8 - Walking along the path that leads up towards the cliffs..

Walking further along the path and following it through a gap in the columns, leads you to another bay, where you can see high up on the cliffs face some of the columns that are partly exposed for near 20 meters in height, with the path I was following leading up towards them.

Fig. 8 - Following the path up the cliff, you can see in the centre the exposed columns.

Fig. 9 - 20m of exposed columns in the cliff face.

Fig. 10 - A closer look.

Fig. 11 - Being daft.

My boots are getting a good work out again today. Once near the columns, I take a few more pictures, including the view behind me, down into the bay. I also take a few fun shots of playful silhouettes, I make of myself against the columns, which is unusual for me as I’m not one to do silly stuff like that, but that’s a small sign of the changes, that this trip has had on me in my personal confidence and my new care free and free flowing attitude.

Fig. 12 - View out over the first bay, taken as I was fending of an attack from an Irish midgie uprising!

Fig. 13 - View into the second bay, following the cliff walk.

I finish, by walking along the cliff tops, taking plenty of panorama photos, whilst being chased off by an ever growing Irish midgie uprising, no pun intended.

I get back to the bike and plot in the campsites postcode, I got from the Derry library and set off, in the hopes of finding the place easily, in the fading light. Just a little further on I ride past a small inlet and with the light fading, and feeling a little weary I swear I could see more basalt geo-columns and wonder if I’ve found a possibly lesser known area of them. So I slow down and do a U-turn, but fail it completely and end up having to let he bike drop. I lose strength in holding her up, after riding all day and when a bike goes over a certain tipping point, it’s best to just let go. On most other days, I could pull the bike back straight back up, before this point happens, but I know with this bike there’s going to be little if any damage, as it can take it so I, just let go and roll off. Unfortunately, once I’ve composed myself and get the bike back up, whilst also ignoring the now hysterically yapping dog, that’s just ran out to see what all the fuss is about, from the house opposite. I find I’ve bust a rear indicator, it’s cracked and the bulb’s blown. Nothing I can do about it at the moment, but as soon as

I come across a motorcycle garage I’ll be able to get it fixed. Incidentally the small bay was desolate of any geo-columns.

On the way through Ballintoy I take note of a Hostel I pass by, in case the campsite doesn’t work out. Just as I leave the village, I also note a local biker sat in a layby, having a contemplative moment, whilst looking out to sea. As I pass, we wave but I don’t stop, and carry on. Further on I pass another lay-by, but this one is set further back from the road and looks ideal as a free camping spot. I finally arrive at where the postcode has led me, to find that there’s nothing here but a small private white cottage, damn. Realising how tired I am, the Hostel back up the road really appeals to me, so I decide to go and check it out and if that doesn't work out, then I’ll move onto plan C and the lay-by for a spot of free camping.

On the way back, I see the biker about to leave, and I quickly park up next to him, to ask his advice on where to stay the night, in the area. It turns out that he knows the lady who runs the Hostel, as he used to deliver bread to her, plus there’s a good pub further on down the street. That’s all a biker needs, is a good bed and pub. Turns out he lives not 20 miles away, unfortunately he’s got an early start the following morning, else he’d of joined me for a few. Before I let him go, I ask quickly about any bike shops, in the area, as I felt the bike needed a little check over. He suggests one that’s further East, along the coast in Ballycastle. We wish each other well and I let him ride off first, then ride the short distance to the Hostel.

I pull of the road at Sheep Island View Hostel and ride up the driveway and park up, as best I can on a slope, near to the furthest building from the main road, trying to ignore the funny looks from the other guests, as I get of my bike, maybe I was being too sensitive this evening. I approach some of them and ask where I can find the owners. I’m directed to the house, that’s the closest to the road. I walk over and knock on the door and I am met, by what turns out to be one of two sisters who run the place. £15 is the going rate and my tired body feels that’s this is more than affordable.

I’m shown a room in a house, that’s between there and the last building, where I parked up, which it turns out it was being privately hired out, and explains the funny looks I got. I move the bike closer and onto a flat parking area and move my stuff off the bike and into my room for the night. However, 5 minutes later, I was moved to another room, when the other sister turns up, to correct her sisters mistake, as my first room had already been booked out. Luckily it was only next door, and we soon swap room keys, so I settled in for the second time. I was treated well and I would definitely stay there again, as the hospitality shown me was lovely and I would recommend it if you’re in the neighbourhood. I was asked about my trip and it was suggested, that if I was to stay longer, I could off taken a small ferry ride across to Rathlin Island, which you can see across the water from the Hostel and spent the day exploring.

I grab a quick shower and finish off the Lidl brioche with some old cheese and onion crisps, I got at some services near midday, I cannot remember exactly where, and also at the time, I managed to borrowed a spray can of gear oil from a car dealers next door, to lubricate the dry chain that was being annoying rattily, making sure I soaked the chain thoroughly and feeling a bit guilty as I handed back the by now half empty can!

With a note pad and pen in hand I head for the pub to finally start my old school blogging of the trip so far. There are only around 7 people in, including the barman and myself, and as I wait for my Guinness to finish being poured, I listen in to the conversations. A Guinness, a good one, takes a while and as I’m listening, I work out that there are amongst the small group two Irish girls and an American guy, together plus a separate German couple and all doing their own touring of the

Emerald Island. I resist the urge to introducing myself and join in their conversation, as I really need to make a start on my writing, with the daily growing fear that I might start to forget the details. So now with my anticipated pint in hand, I find a comfy seat to settle into and start scribbling away.

After a half hour or so, the German gentleman nips outside for a smoke and whilst passing me, passes comment on me having a lot to write, which I only half catch, breaking my concentration, so I decide to take a mini break and a bit sociable. Sometimes the adventure of travel is thrust upon you when you could do with a pause button, I shouldn’t complain, but it’s a worthy observation nonetheless. He explains, that he and his attractive partner, are on their own short tour of Ireland, finishing in a few days. I explain what I’m up to on my own tour, before wishing him well, as he goes back to his new companions, at the bar and I go back to my journal. I was still scratching away when it turned midnight, when the group left, heading back to the Hostel. I stayed at the pub and had another pint, savouring the rich creaminess and convincing myself completely, that it tastes a lot better here, than in the UK.

At 1pm and starting to feel sleepy I decide I’ve had enough for the night and I allow myself out of the now locked pub and head back to the Hostel. I find the small international group are still up and are sat together in the lounge come kitchen area, trying to talk as low as they can as they seem to be incurring angry knocking, from the couple directly above them. I sit for a while and chat till one by one they drift off to bed. In the end it’s just myself and the German guy left. It turns out that we both work in a the profession of Civil Engineering and we soon find common ground and start having a good moan, about the gripes we both have in our jobs. Soon after, I too drift off and head upstairs to my room, crawling into bed with a plan, for the following day of checking out, my next point of interest, a mere mile down the road.