John’s Negatives

Film 25 — 36 exposure 35mm film, only 23 used.

A trip to Ireland, 1995

Day 1 - Tuesday, May 9 — Glasgow to Dublin

00. Chaine Memorial and the Antrim Coast north of Larne.

By bus into town to catch the 08:23 to Stranraer with a Saver Return to Dublin (�61.40). The usual loading pattern, busy to Paisley and again from Kilwinning to Ayr, then quiet to Stranraer, arriving just before the scheduled 10:30. There was the usual hanging about before boarding the Stena Caledonia for the 11:30 sailing. The crossing was calm, time for three pints and only a slight delay before disembarking by the passenger gangway. I wandered on the platform while waiting for the 14:20 to Belfast which is now the 14:15. (I must get a new NIR Timetable, the opening of the Dargan Bridge to link Yorkgate and Central across the Lagan has caused some changes.) On time at Belfast Central at 14:55, six paces across the platform to join the 15:00 for Dublin. This is what an integrated transport system should be like. The NIR train was loco-hauled with carriages resembling BR Mark 1 open stock and I found an empty table in a smoking section near the front and settled down. Enough loose change in my pocket for a cup of tea from the trolley, but not enough for a sandwich.

At Newry, four elderly ladies loaded capacious shopping trolleys into the guard's van and came into my section. They were known to the train crew, the trolley man filled their flask with hot water, the guard exchanged pleasantries with them, and I formed the opinion that they made regular shopping trips from Dublin.

We arrived at Dublin Connolly two minutes late at 17:22 and I wandered the short distance down towards the Liffey, amazed at the rush-hour crowds. The pavements were busier than I have seen for some time in Glasgow, more like my recollection of twenty years ago before competition, efficiency and down-sizing became fashionable. The traffic was horrendous, nose-to-tail and travelling fast.

I crossed the river and wandered on, keeping an eye open for a hole in the wall with a Link label on it, more in hope than in expectation, and in the end, resorted to a cash advance on my VISA card. After a bit, I headed back north up O'Connell Street towards the Youth Hostel and booked in for the night. I had made a reservation by phone and all was in order, including bookings for the next two nights at Black Valley. Bought the An �ige handbook and repaired to the cafeteria for tea and a sandwich while browsing the book.

Then out to see the town, or rather to look for Mooney's. It took some time to find. My chat with Neil in February had given me quite the wrong idea of its whereabouts. In the end, I reverted to my recollection of twenty years ago, up O'Connell Street, check the turnings on the left and I found it in Parnell Street. At least, I think I found it. I ordered a pint of Smithwick's and looked around. Very busy, quite noisy, the layout seemed familiar, but not quite right. Anyway, it will do. The only pub I've been in where lager cost more than Guinness.

However, at �1.95 a pint for beer or Guinness, I decided to see if I could find somewhere cheaper and wandered off and into the pub across from the hostel where the beer was �1.92. Obviously drinking in Dublin is as dear as they say. A pleasant pub, very quiet, rather more of a local clientele. But it's been a long day so time for bed.

Day 2 - Wednesday, May 10 — Dublin to Black Valley via Killarney.

A continental breakfast is included in the overnight charge so I broke my fast before setting off for Heuston Station. Being a glutton for something, I decided to go via Connolly Station to see how long it took from the hostel to Connolly and from Connolly to Heuston. The answer is - longer than I thought.

It was almost nine when I reached Heuston and couldn't find the ticket office. I asked a cleaner for directions - up the side of Platform 2 and in to the left - and found one man selling tickets with fifteen people in the queue. Luckily, not all were buying tickets, and a second man appeared. When I got to the front, I asked for a single to Killarney - �33.50 - for a single, I queried - yes said the man. I paid, took the ticket and rushed off to buy a paper. On the way back, I looked at the ticket and discovered it was a five-day return. There was still a queue at the ticket office and the train went in three minutes. I decided to write a stiff letter to Iarnr�d �ireann and jumped onto the train.

Well, a train journey is a train journey. I had no problems with the quick crossword in the Irish Times and started well on the harder one - and stuck half way through. Bought a cup of tea which cost 5p more than NIR even though the punt is worth more than the pound on the international market. The weather deteriorated as we went along, gradually clouding over, drizzling by Thurles and raining by Limerick Junction. At several stations, connections were waiting. At Mallow, a group of adolescents boarded and behaved as adolescents everywhere, noisy, showing little consideration for other passengers, or their own supervisors. They finally turned down their ghetto-blaster to a reasonable level when they were threatened with the guard.

At Killarney, it was still raining, the first day's rain in five weeks, I was told! I skipped from cover to cover as best I could and found the Tourist Office. "Do you sell maps?" I asked. "If you are looking for Sheet 78, we still haven't got it." he replied. I bought the Dingle Bay half inch (I could never find it in Glasgow) and he directed me to a bookshop where I found a guide to MacGillycuddy's Reeks. Then I ducked into a pend and donned my waterproofs.

I left town on the Killorglin Road at 13:30, passing to the north of the lakes but without sight of them. There was a pavement of sorts most of the time, which was welcome. At Aghadoe, I stopped under the eaves of an hotel gatehouse to check the map then shortly turned left onto back roads which led me in time to Kate Kearney's cottage at the north end of the Gap of Dunloe at half past three.

Some excellent soup, a sandwich and a pot of tea revived me enough to face a pint by an open fire before venturing into the Gap. By now it was almost not raining so I could keep my hood down. Definitely a marvellous walk, I could recommend it to anyone. The only irritation was the behaviour of a minibus from Dublin (I had already worked out the vehicle registration system) which caught up with me near the top, passed me, stopped till I passed it, then passed me again, stopped etc several times so that I will always associate the top of the Gap of Dunloe with the sound of a spluttering diesel engine. Och, well, he went faster than me down the other side.

The south side of the Gap was not very interesting as cloud and mist obscured most of the scenery. As I descended on the road, I was displeased to see the minibus parked near Black Valley YH but luckily it was gone before I got there. No problems with the accommodation where a shower and dry clothes were very welcome. I bought some milk for my tea and tinned fruit for afters.

Day 3 - Thursday, May 11 — Around Black Valley.

The second day's rain in five weeks, so I took my time getting up and making my porridge. I managed to dither about until 0945 but then could think of no further reason to delay so I set off up the valley. I decided conditions were a bit dodgy for ascending strange hills on my own, with the cloud base at about 600' and rain in the air so I just meandered the five miles of the Kerry Way to the head of the pass to look over into Glen Caragh (which looked a bit brighter), then back down past the hostel to the tea-room at Lord Brandon's Cottage. It was closed.

However, just then, a car pulled up, out got several children and a lady who asked what I wanted and took my order. The tea-room is just a covered picnic area with a serving hatch, which opened to reveal my tea and sandwich for �1.80. After a while, I went a bit further down to the Upper Lake then back to the hostel. A tin of Irish Stew for tea, and spent the evening trying to decide whether, if the weather improved, I could stay another day to go up the hill.

Day 4 - Friday, May 12 — Black Valley to Killarney.

But the weather was no better in the morning. However I did move a bit quicker and was ready to leave by nine, following the Kerry Way down again past Lord Brandon's Cottage, skirting the Upper Lake then up across the road to pick up the old Killarney - Kenmare road where I turned left towards Killarney. A bit of a climb then a long boggy stretch, much of which is crossed by a boardwalk constructed from railway sleepers.

01. Southern slopes of MacGillycuddy's Reeks above Black Valley.	02. Looking across Muckross Lake and Loch Leanne (Killarney Lakes) towards the Sleive Mish mountains.	03. South-east end of MacGillycuddy's Reeks across Muckross Lake.

I managed to miss the Torc Waterfall by making the wrong choice at the one un-signposted fork in the path. (Turn right next time.) At the road, I considered going back up the right route, but felt that lunch was a more pressing objective and continued to Muckross House where the tea-room provided a very reasonable soup, sandwich and tea. An hour later, I continued along the shore of Lough Leanne until forced out onto the road for the last mile or so into Killarney.

My first objective was the bus station to check the times of buses on the morrow to Limerick, then I found a bed for �6.50, in the independent Railway Hostel (recently opened and very nice) across the way. As I was tidying up after a shower, a Dutchman called Vincent came in and we went down the town for a pleasant drink, he went off to eat (I think one meal a day is enough when I am travelling), I wandered around the town for a bit (discovering that there was not much more to it than I had seen on Wednesday), then back to the hostel and bed.

Day 5 - Saturday, May 13 — Killarney to Limerick.

I emerged into a reasonable day just after eight and went looking for breakfast. Not even the newsagents were open. Phoned home then headed for the bus station about nine. Some shops appeared to be thinking of opening, but too late for me. The nine o'clock bus left about ten past and looking back as we left the town, I got my first decent view of the tops of The Reeks!

A pleasant journey, although �9.30 seems a lot for the trip. We were on time at Limerick at ten past eleven. The bus station is next to the railway station so I went in there for a look around, bought a timetable and had a late breakfast of soup, sandwich and tea. Then with about five hours to kill before I could reasonably present myself at the Youth Hostel, I set off to explore.

04. Sarsfield Bridge across the River Shannon.	05. Swing bridge (leading to Sarsfield Bridge) over the derelict boat pass.	06. River Shannon with King John's Castle on the left, St Mary's Cathedral on the right.

I hit the Shannon shore just above the docks, the optimum spot, and drifted upstream. I was admiring the remnants of the locks/docks at Sarsfield Bridge when I was approached by a gentleman who spent ten minutes telling me that God did not exist, without letting me get a word in edgeways. A little further upstream to Custom House Park at the mouth of the Abbey River then back through the main streets. I tried the Tourist Information Office and a couple of bookshops for maps without much success, except for the half-inch sheets to cover the Grand Canal.

Slight confusion finding the entrance to the youth hostel, it's round the corner in Barrington Street with a controlled entry. Once inside, the manager apologised for being short staffed and seemed unsure if I would want to stay the second night as the hostel would be closed from 11 till 5. I pointed out that this used to be the inveterate rule and assured him I would find something to do to pass the time. I performed the usual ablutions and set out to find some food. I had earlier noticed a couple of chip shops, but could I find them now? Then I remembered a small Italian place round the back of the Milk Market and headed for it. Lo and behold, in the evening it is a chip shop. They had cod and fresh cod on the menu, I didn't ask the difference but ordered fresh cod and chips. It was excellent. A couple of pints on the way back to the hostel rounded off the day nicely.

Day 6 - Sunday, May 14 — Limerick.

There is more life in Stornoway than in Limerick at half past eight on a Sunday morning. In fine weather, I crossed the Shannon by the Sarsfield Bridge and back by the Thomond Bridge to the remains of King John's Castle, now a tourism experience.

Enquiries yesterday at the Tourist Office had left me with a confused idea of walking routes up the Shannon. I started off by road to find the Athlunkard Bridge but just over O'Dwyer Bridge I found a footpath along the Abbey River (which is just a braid of the Shannon). A pleasant stroll, crossed the railway line to Ennis just before it crossed the Shannon then along the river bank under the Athlunkard Bridge to find myself at the end of the navigation cut, one mile from where I had been two hours earlier. There is definitely a large loop in the Shannon just outside Limerick.

It was necessary to go half a mile down the cut to a bridge, then back up the other side to continue on the river bank. On a bit to a footbridge across to the start of the old canal up to Errina Lock, but it was unrecognisable as a canal so I continued upriver on my original path, passing a fishing station, a ruined keep which I take to be Castle Troy and reached a tributary, the Mulkear River. There was the skeleton of a bridge across it with no decking so I decided that as it was now well after twelve and I had had no breakfast, I would turn back. And I did.

07. Interpretation Centre, King John's Castle.	08. The remains of Castle Troy by the Shannon, upstream of Limerick.	09. Fishing on the Shannon upstream of Limerick.

On the way back, I took the short cut down the navigation into town then wandered around a bit more before selecting a pub for a late lunch. It was quiet, the food was reasonable, there was some foreign football on the three TVs that I could see, with the sound turned down. Then the pub started to get busy, the TVs were tuned to different channels and we were watching the climax of the English Premiership. What fun! At half time, sandwiches appeared on the bar. Why had I bothered with a lunch? Anyway, I got my share of the sandwiches.

10. River Shannon with St Mary's Cathedral on the right. The bridge crosses a minor arm of the Shannon.	11. Entrance to the Shannon Navigation.

Back to the hostel via the bus/railway station where I discovered that my bus in the morning left from outside Penney's rather than the bus station. That must be somewhere downtown. I knew I shouldn't but I watched a bit of the Eurovision Song Contest before going to bed.

Day 7 - Monday, May 15 — Limerick to Banagher.

Up and out by eight, straight down to O'Connell Street and along looking for Penney's. Right at the end, just before the Albert Quay Shopping Centre. There is a contra-flow bus lane blocked by building work half way along the block. Four buses arrived and double parked, passengers boarded, then one by one the buses reversed back round the corner and headed off up William Street.

I was on the stopping bus to Dublin which I expected to take me to Roscrea for a connection to Birr, but a few miles out of town we stopped beside another bus, the drivers conferred and it was "all change". This second bus reached Roscrea just before ten, I had a quick look round and decided to have breakfast. Afterwards, bought a paper and some sticking plaster for my feet. before finding a pub for a quiet couple of pints. Back round to the main street in good time for the arrival of my next bus. I was expecting a 71 from Cork to Athlone but what arrived was a bus to Sligo, I still haven't found it in the timetable. I was assured that it would get me to Birr, and it did, just after one.

After a quick look round Birr, I took the road to Banagher. Not much traffic on the road but as is the way of things, a van stopped to offer me a lift when I was already in sight of my destination. I demurred. The Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland mentions an independent Crank House Hostel in Banagher which proved to be above the Tourist Information Office in a renovated building on the main street. No problem getting a bed, in fact I was the only person staying that night.

After the usual ablutions, I plastered my feet and went downstairs to the tea-room for tea, a sandwich and some apple tart before walking down the road to view the Shannon. I could see rain approaching so headed back up the street and selected a pleasant pub for my evening refreshment while reading the paper.

12. River Shannon upstream of Banagher	13. Looking across the Shannon to Banagher.	14. River Shannon downstream of Banagher.

15. River Shannon at Bannagher.	16. The marina at Banagher by the Shannon.

Day 8 - Tuesday, May 16 — Banagher to Tullamore via Shannon Harbour.

I was up and on the road by eight. A long road, three miles to Shannon Harbour and then I discovered that it was half a mile from the end of the canal. Well, I had to go there and inspect the Shannon. However, it turned out that the canal comes off the River Brosna and the view of the Shannon is very limited. Anyway, back to Shannon Harbour for some milk for breakfast. Mrs Gleeson asked if I was on my way back as one of the boaters had mentioned seeing someone walking west a few days earlier. Well, it definitely wasn't me.

17. Entrance to the Grand Canal off the River Brosna.	18. Looking down the River Brosna to the Shannon.	19. The Grand Canal at Shannon Harbour.

About ten o'clock I set off east along the towpath. What can I say? The towpath went on and on, some of it was farm road, some sealed for rural road, anyway it was all hard underfoot. There is some signposting at bridges but it was not always clear which side of the canal I should be on. For some time, the Offaly and Grand Canal Ways shared the towpath and then the signposts got really confusing. Approaching Pollagh, I was diverted off the towpath by a rope across it and a NO ENTRY sign. I followed the road, but after a mile or so , I regained the towpath and decided that the NO ENTRY was probably intended for vehicular traffic. On reaching Pollagh just before half past two, I came across the first milepost of the day, and it did not make pleasant reading. I had already walked 21km from the Shannon and still had 15km to go to Tullamore, adding up to about 5 miles more than my estimate. Never again shall I measure the length of a canal off a road map!

I spotted what I hoped was a pub in the distance, ignored the signposts and headed for it. In through the first door I saw, a comfortable bar, the only occupant a lady washing the floor. "Is the bar open?" I asked. "Yes, what would you like?" she said. I asked if there was any food, no, so I had a packet of crisps. But then she reappeared with a plate of cheese sandwiches. Just what was in the kitchen, she said.

In the course of the conversation, she told me of a large American who had passed a few days earlier, heading for Chicago. (Well, he was on his way to Shannon Airport on the way home.) He had been looking for a bed for the night, nothing available in that area, so he had the barman's bed in the office before departing early on the following day. A very pleasant gentleman. I suspect he was the walker reported to Mrs Gleeson at Shannon Harbour.

I resumed my walk just before three and after climbing a couple of fences decided I should have been on the other side of the canal. However, the going was not bad so I continued and in time found myself back on farm roads and regained the correct side of the canal before Rahan. At Ballycowan Bridge, it started to rain. I stood under a tree for a few minutes then decided to don my waterproofs. That done, the rain stopped. However I kept them on until I reached Tullamore at half past six.

The canal passes the north end of Tullamore main street. I headed south down a slight incline and didn't see any B&B signs before I found two hotels at the bridge over the Tullamore River. Looked a bit upmarket for a tramper so I continued up the hill on the other side a short distance till I came to the High Street House Hotel. With B&B available for �24, my feet decided to walk no further.

As I prepared to take a shower I found that it was painful standing in my bare feet, but that soon wore off a bit. I used the "complimentary" tea things and tried to find some news on TV, without success so I repaired to the bar below with maps and guidebook to work out where the extra miles had come from.

Day 9 - Wednesday, May 17 — Tullamore - Edenderry.

I had refused the offer of an alarm call, preferring to rely on my natural alarm which had me up and looking for breakfast about eight. The breakfast room was locked, but a lassie came in just then and expressed surprise at seeing me hanging around. It seems that though breakfast can be available from seven, it is the cook who makes the alarm calls, she arrives in time for the first and then has enough time to get things ready. My presence complicated the routine but she coped well.

After breakfast, I picked up my bag and went to pay my bill. The receptionist spent some time trying to find an appropriate credit card slip - it seems Irish banks like to use their own - before giving up and offering to send me an invoice. As this would involve some currency exchange, I offered to pay cash and a couple of pounds disappeared off my bill.

It was half past nine when I venture forth and climbed the hill to the canal. It may have been a gentle slope down last evening but it seemed a hill this morning, my feet were still complaining about the extra five miles yesterday. After a brief inspection of Tullamore Harbour (it was the western end of the canal from 1798 to 1801), I turned my face to the east and set off. The towpath was more towpath than road today, much easier underfoot.

Near Ballycommon, a widening of the canal and a bridge over nothing marked what was once the start of the Kilbeggan Line.

It was about half past twelve when I reached Daingean (formerly Philipstown) where the canal surroundings have been attractively landscaped with financial assistance from the EU. The main street runs away from the canal and I wandered down looking for lunch. The Sportsman's Inn is the main provided of lunches and I had an excellent salad and pleasant conversation with the barman.

It was a quarter past two before I continued on my way, a long stretch of unremarkable canal across the Bog of Allen, devoid of locks with a turf railway crossing the only diversion. Once again I missed the train.

20. Renovations at the junction of the Edenderry Line and the Grand Canal.	21. Looking east along the Grand Canal from the Edenderry Line.	22. Looking up the Edenderry Line from the Grand Canal.

(And then the shutter on my camera jammed.)

At six, I reached the junction with the short Edenderry Line and followed it into town where the harbour is being redeveloped. After mentally tossing a coin, I turned right and walked up the main street with a eye open for B&B. Regan's Pub offered accommodation so I entered and made enquiries. Yes I could have a bed but breakfast would not be available until late morning unless I made my own tea and toast. The initial price of �12 came down to �10 as I dredged for change in my pocket.

The accommodation was clean and simple if slightly threadbare. When I took my boots off, I found a pattern of dimples on the soles of my feet which matched the pattern of the padding on the footbeds! I decided to swap them with the flat insoles from my gutties. After a shower, I went down for a couple of pints before bed.

Day 10 - Thursday, May 18 — Edenderry to Sallins.

Up at the back of seven, cereal, tea and toast for breakfast then on the road at quarter past eight. At twenty to nine I was back at the canal mainline and heading east again. I had just passed a stretch where the canal bank was being rebuilt when I came across cattle grazing on the towpath. They presented no problem except for one which kept moving in front of me, through a break in a fence and on for some distance until we reached a farm yard and it decided it was home. Beside the farm, the first lock since before Daingean.

At the junction with the Barrow Line, about half past twelve, a major disaster. My camera refused to work. I was clutching at straws when I decided that the film was just 24 exposure and was finished so I unloaded it but the camera still would not function. To compound my chagrin, there was no pub for lunch so I continued to Robertstown where even the pubs closed for lunch. Luckily I found one still open for a pint but no food. Only one other customer, an elderly gentleman who told me that a few weeks previously a large American gentleman had passed through walking west. I was also told that the landlady of the pub in Pollagh came from this area.

It was not long before I was back on my way and the rain started. I donned my jacket but decided to skip the waterproof trousers, and the rain didn't last long anyway. About four, I reached the Leinster Aqueduct which carries the canal over the Liffey. All quite small-scale, but pleasant. I watched the river flowing for a few minutes before continuing, passing the end of the Naas Canal before reaching Sallins just before half past four.

A quick inspection of Sallins revealed only one building which might offer accommodation, a large roadhouse beside the canal, so there I went. Unfortunately, no accommodation, nor did they know of any in the neighbourhood. There would certainly be B&B on the road to Kildare but I decided just to return to Dublin for the night. Plenty of time for a leisurely pint before the next train at 17:27.

The train was similar to a BR Sprinter (Class 150) but rather smoother running. �6 bought a five-day return. It was raining when I arrived at Heuston at five to six so I stopped for a pint (�2) in the station bar and observed the other customers for a while. An ordinary lot, rather more buying coffee than you might see in a BR bar but the buffet next door was non-smoking. Plenty staff but possible a shift change as they were not very interested in serving the thirsty.

When the rain was off I ventured forth and headed for the hostel. I cut through some shabby back streets on my way, with considerable amounts of litter suggesting the presence of a fruit market during the day. At the hostel, I booked in for three nights, back in the same dorm as last time, quick shower then lasagne, salad and tea in the cafeteria before an early bed.

Day 11 - Friday, May 19 — Sallins to Dublin.

Back to Heuston in the morning for the 0915 stopping train to Kildare for the twenty-five minute journey to Sallins. For just about the first time I found myself on an overgrown towpath where wet long grass indicated the need for gaiters. Over the past miles, I had occasional difficulty deciding which road to follow on either side of the canal, on this stretch to the outskirts of Dublin, the problem was more of choosing between faint footpaths. However I got it wrong only once, where a pub and moored boats gave an unsubstantiated prominence to one bank over the cattle track meandering through bushes on the other side. (Unfortunately the pub hadn't opened yet.)

By early afternoon I was passing the Clondalkin estate, looking like the Dublin equivalent of Drumchapel. There were substantial amounts of litter in the bushes along the canal. From here on in, the towpath is more an urban footpath, mostly dog walkers and mad cyclists.

By the back of four, I had reached the junction with the Circular Line, well, it used to be a junction but the continuation to James' Street Basin has been filled in. From here the canal is paralleled by urban roads and the towpath is mostly converted to a linear park. Quite pleasant except for the noise, quite busy too with home-going commuters.

At Lock 1 by Canal Street, I stopped to watch a small boat negotiate the lock, hampered by the presence of some ducklings in the chamber which had to be continually chased back from the sluices. Much relief all round when the gate could be opened and the ducklings escaped to rejoin their mother. As I passed along Hanover Quay, there was a film crew operating on a nineteenth century set with a sailing ship.

By six I had passed the sea locks and reached the Liffey, over eighty miles from the Shannon. B&I Line's latest ferry Isle of Innisfree was moored just downstream on the other side, dwarfing its surroundings. I turned back towards the city centre. A quiet evening in the pub.

Day 12 - Saturday, May 20 — Dublin.

It was a very strange feeling to wake and realise that there was no walking to be done. In fact it was so strange that I refused to accept it, and after breakfast I went looking for the Royal Canal. Not too difficult to find, just along the road from the hostel, I turned towards the Liffey to see just where the canal has been cut. And the answer is at the North Strand Road, up from Connolly Station. So there I turned round and headed for the Shannon again (ha, ha).

The canal provides quite a pleasant walk passing the back of Croke Park (with a flash new stand), up the side of Mountjoy Jail and along beside the Sligo railway line. This line also carries commuter traffic and the local stations have been badly vandalised, some being left with no name boards.

But I wasn't really planning to go back to the Shannon. When I reached Ashtown, I took to the road and headed for Phoenix Park where I looked for the Suirbheireacht Ordon�is (Ordnance Survey) office (closed on Saturday mornings) and gradually headed back towards town, stopping for a snack at the tea kiosk near the entrance to the Zoo (very good soup). Once back into town, I wandered through the city south of the river, sat awhile in St Stephen's Green smoking my pipe, and then decided to make one last try at getting Sheet 78. More wandering to find a bookshop (Waterstone's), had to ask where the maps were, Sheet 78 not available, but I spotted a set of reprints of early maps and amongst them was a sheet covering the Cashel/Newinn area first published in 1893, so I was well pleased with that.

Next I bought a paper and went looking for a quite pub in which to read it, but it seemed that most of Dublin was in the pubs watching the English FA Cup Final. I did manage a pint here and there (even more expensive than Mooney's) before returning to the hostel for a shower and to sort my gear for the morrow.

While having a pint in Mooney's afterwards, I fell into conversation with a local who has a sister in Glasgow and was pleased to hear my accent. I certainly had a pleasant couple of hours though I had difficulty buying my round as he could get twenty pence off as a pensioner. We left at the same time but I refused his invitation to join him for further refreshment and retired.

Day 13 - Sunday, May 21 — Dublin to Belfast.

On my way to the station, I passed a McDonald's in O'Connell Street and thought to partake of a milk shake but apparently they don't milk the cows till ten on a Sunday morning. I settled for a litre of milk from the paper shop across from the station and settled down to read the paper and wait for the Belfast train.

And so I left Dublin at twenty past ten with enough change in my pocket to buy a cup of tea and a sandwich before we crossed the border. Again no formalities. Arrived in Belfast just after one and nipped round to the Crown for lunch. Unfortunately the pub closed at two thirty, a bit early to check out the Youth Hostel, so more meandering around the city. Peckish again, there was not much choice of eating late on a Sunday afternoon so Belfast is added to the exclusive list of Wellington and Melbourne as a place where I have lowered my gastronomic standards to the level of McDonald's.

The new hostel in Belfast is not far from the city centre, out towards Botanic and I booked in for a couple of nights to be going on with, had another snack in the cafeteria there and went out for a quiet evening.

Day 14 - Monday, May 22 — mv Balmoral to Rathlin Island.

Now it was time for the alternative form of transport and I headed for the docks, buying a pint of milk for breakfast on the way. In through the main gates and quickly spotted the masts of the Balmoral lying at the berth usually occupied by the tugs. The old Isle of Man ferry berth has been redeveloped, apparently for a car park, the Ballast Quay is being redeveloped (Stena Sealink services are moving from Larne to Belfast next year) so Balmoral was in her third berth in four years.

We sailed at nine thirty with only about fifty passengers aboard, about the same again at Bangor and a disappointing turnout of a dozen or so at Red Bay. Apparently most of the population of the glens had turned out yesterday for the Campbeltown sailing. It was a very pleasant sail up the coast, particularly the stretch past Torr and Fair Heads. The tide race off Fair Head was quite dramatic, with the ship making the occasional sideways jump. We arrived at Rathlin five minutes late at ten to three. I made a beeline for the pub and got there just in front of the crowd. A pleasant pub but I doubt if they often see a crowd, service was friendly but very slow.

We left ten minutes after our scheduled departure time of quarter past four and returned calling at the same ports to reach Belfast five minutes late at nine thirty-five. I walked back to the hostel with only one pint en route.

Day 15 - Tuesday, May 23 — mv Balmoral to Strangford Lough.

I booked another night in the hostel before setting off again for the docks. Today's cruise went south down the coast of the Ards Peninsula calling at Donaghadee before Portaferry and a cruise on Strangford Lough. We returned to Portaferry for a coach return to Belfast. Numbers were small and the one coach sufficed, calling back at Donaghadee on the way to Belfast. We made a diversion to drop a couple of nutters at Belfast City Airport, causing some concern to those passengers who were not aware of the idiosyncrasies of Waverley/Balmoral cruises, but we were only fifteen minutes late at the docks at quarter to six. The tugs had already reclaimed their usual berth.

There has been some development of the river bank in Belfast and I enjoyed a pleasant stroll on the new walkway up the bank of the Lagan before returning to the city centre past Central Station. A leisurely pint in a pub or two on the way back to the hostel.

Day 16 - Wednesday, May 24 — Belfast to Glasgow.

Time for some last minute shopping in Belfast, a couple of Ulsterbus timetables before breakfast and a visit to the Tourist Information Office. They had already run out of the city centre plan but provided me with a photocopy to replace my 1992 edition, and I did at last find a short guide to the Ulster Way.

The 10:06 train from Central brought me to Larne just before eleven o'clock for the 11:30 ferry, the Stena Antrim, which reached Stranraer at five to two but it was over ten minutes before we could disembark through the car deck. The next leg was the 14:30 train to Glasgow, arriving at quarter to five for a bus home.

Holiday over.

[ contents ]      [ next film ]