Goodbye to Bangor and Northern Ireland

[Kyle]I was pretty exhausted after the red-eye back to Belfast. I got home to Footprint and had a wee nap before Maryanne dragged me out to one of the local parks for some fun. This was on the condition that we would stop for a takeaway pizza at one of the places in town that does a pretty good job of it, on the evidence that there’s always a line out the door while neighboring establishments go empty.

On a whim as we left the marina, we decided to get on one of the carnival rides that we could hear causing a lot of screaming from the boat. It was a cross between a spinny tea-cup ride and a roller coaster – lots of fun even if in the back of my mind was flashing "dodgy ride set up from a truck".


Fun fairs and parks
The actual park we went to following that was nice enough, as parks go, with tended gardens and ponds filled with ducks, but the big surprise was all of the birds. There were several large aviaries with grouse, peacocks and chickens and, my favorite, one large one filled with little Australian parrot varieties. They had lots of budgerigars and cockatiels, a few Indian Ringnecks and even a couple of Rainbow Lorikeets. I could have stayed for hours sitting on a bench enjoying their adorable parrotiness, but it was threatening to rain and we needed more sleep for our Midnight departure to the Isle of Man, so we picked up our pizza and headed back.

Sightseeing around Bangor

Bangor Castle (Town Hall), the museum courtyard cafe and the Walled garden
[Maryanne]Kyle is still away and I’m determined to balance life with a bit of sightseeing along with my chores. Last time we came to Bangor we focused on Belfast, just a short train ride away, and exploring by car some of the more distant sites of Northern Ireland. This time I figured it was time to give Bangor a go.

I was surprised to find how full of park land; beautiful promenades, and dense woodland, all available to amble around at will, and often with self-guided nature trails to ensure you get the most out of them as you wish. The local Town Hall is the old (1800’s) Castle and although you can’t go in, you can wander around and enjoy the grounds. Here I found a beautiful walled garden belonging to the original estate and now maintained by the local council. It was great, divided into 4 distinct areas and filled with flowers, herbs, vegetables and fruits; I don’t know too much about horticulture, but I spent hours exploring, sniffing and poking about in the garden. Also in the grounds is the North Down Museum (North Down being the district Bangor is in – part of County Down). The museum had a medley of folk history in the area (Viking, Christian, holiday making, and bee keeping to name a few), it also had the most tranquil courtyard café I’ve seen in a while, and I could not resist fortifying myself with a sweet potato and chili soup with homemade bread. All this lazy ambling unexpectedly filled a day (Doh!).

The following day I decided to venture out on the train just a few miles to the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum, which I’d mistakenly assumed to be a single museum but actually is two very separate ones (although they do offer a joint day ticket, there is no way you can do both in a day! Of course I didn’t know that when I purchased my ticket). I focused on the folk museum and I hadn’t done my homework at all. I was surprised to find they have recreated a village and a significant part of the surrounding countryside as it might have appeared around 1910 (a full 170 acres of museum). Some clever chap around 1950 noticed that things were changing rapidly and pushed to preserve, as a museum, the older ways of living. Since then, they’ve purchased a giant swath of land, and have slowly purchased (or been donated) old and ramshackle properties, not wanted, or targeted for demolition in many cases, and installed them (brick by brick in most cases) in their museum village. There are farms, mills, churches, meeting halls, schools, tenement rows, pubs, shops, even a cinema, etc – all as they would have appeared circa 1910s.. The homes depict life as it would have been for all walks of life - the poorest in country and town, through to some of the richest land owning gentry.


Folk Museum - a whole village and surrounds set-up as it might have been around 1910
Of course many of the buildings are much older (some from the 1600’s), and are furnished as they would have been in the early 1900’s. Some of the properties are staffed with characters in costume that seem happy to while away time by talking about the history and artifacts – just as I was happy to listen. I even got a 2nd soda bread making demonstration. So overwhelmed with what I was trying to fit in before closing, I didn’t dare stop for lunch, but I did pass the sweet shop and purchase some pineapple cubes to help me on my way. Another day blown, the balance of sightseeing and chores a little one sided, but life is good.

4th July in Bangor

[Maryanne]OK, So I consider myself “half American” (when it suits me). My husband is American and I have a US passport, but I’m still not sure it feels right to “celebrate” American Independence - given I’m basically British. Still, I can enjoy a party, and a few fireworks whatever the reason. Of course, while Kyle is currently in the USA, and able to fully celebrate, I’m in Northern Ireland, and expected to pass the day oblivious to its US importance.


Leaving behind Bangor fun fairs and towers on my way to Groomsport
I’d planned ahead and booked myself on a free guided walk of the area, to study the archaeological history of part of the coastal route around Groomsport (just a couple of miles South from Bangor). I woke to torrential rain, and wondered how we’d know if the walk was cancelled.... By the time noon arrived, the weather was glorious sun shine, and I set off to Groomsport. Great sun, but very blustery. I was sand blasted on the beach on the walk to Groomsport, but luckily had my back to the wind, and was able to enjoy the amazing swirling fog like effect of the sand flying around just above ground level ahead of me – pretty cool.


Sand and scenery on a blustery walk
I arrived in Groomsport in plenty of time, and purchased myself an apple, planning to sit and read a book in the sun until the allotted tour time. However, I soon realised that Groomsport was actively celebrating American Independence day... No escape, I realized I’m probably getting more of a 4th July celebration than Kyle! The Kids were making American flags (or coming up with new designs in many cases), and there was live music and line dancing at the harbour.


Imagine my surprise! I'd thought I'd miss out on any 4th July celebrations over here.
With plenty of time still, I ventured into Cockle Row Cottages (setup as a circa 1910 croft house), and found a live demonstration of Soda Bread baking.... Shirley (the cook) was a great teacher and I bombarded her with questions – now HERE is some bread I can easily make and bake aboard Footprint. Shirley also kindly gave me a healthy taste of hot bread with melting butter, and then a second sample, and a third to take on my way – I’m hooked.


Shirley bakes a mean soda bread... deeeeee-licious, and the locals get dancing USA style!
The guided walk was excellent. Despite the blustery conditions (and total lack of any visible archaeology) , the National Trust archaeologist gave an excellent tour. I’m sure I’ve already forgotten the most of what he said, but it was good. :-) By the end of the tour we’d walked half way back to Bangor, so I continued on, but this time on the beach I was face INTO the sand blasting wind. I was not sure if I’d survive, and was convinced my glasses would be ruined, luckily all was well all round. This means I’ve done NO JOBS today, I’ll have to think of something to tell Kyle I did do, or maybe he’ll let me get away with “It is a Holiday after all”.

So – happy 4th of July and may you all have beautiful homemade, bread – warm and buttered and anything else that makes you glow with pleasure and comfort.


Returning to the Guillemots ( Bangor Penguins) at the Marina - so cute. They nest in the overflow pipes coming out of the seawall here

Bangor

[Kyle]Carnlough was deserted as we squeezed out of the harbor at low tide in a brisk southwest wind. We motored along for 20 minutes or so just to get the engine warmed up, then shut it down and hoisted the sails. The minute we did this, the very minute, the wind completely died off to nothing and started swirling all over the place. No sooner did we get the sails trimmed and pulling than they were suddenly backed. We were going so slowly through the water that I couldn’t turn the boat fast enough to react to the wind changes. I was hoping, really hoping, that we were in some kind of a wind shadow caused by the nearby cliffs. We at least had a strong current pushing us to the south so, if all else failed, we would drift into some wind. It never happened. We had a five minute period where we were headed smartly in the right direction. I foolishly decided we were sorted for wind for the day and was just getting comfortable when it just stopped again. If we didn’t keep moving, the current would reverse and we’d never make it anywhere. I threw up my hands, we pulled down the sails and motored the rest of the way to Bangor.

We arrived just as it started to drizzle. We topped off at the fuel dock and by the time we made it to our assigned slip, it was pouring. We secured everything and went to pay the bill.

Bangor Marina is a nice facility but, as seems to be the case in a lot of places these days, they seem to have decided that boaters are all stinking rich and won’t even notice paying exorbitant rates. In addition to the standard slip fee, which includes the use of up to three cleats, everything else is extra and includes its own ridiculously disproportionate markup, Hilton style. We’re not in the middle of New York or London. This is Belfast.

We returned dripping to the boat in a foul mood. We had no power, no internet, no nuttin’ and we were in stinkin’ Bangor in the pouring rain. Well, Bangor is actually pretty nice. Maryanne says it reminds her a lot of Brighton, rhymes with Brighten. Well, I suppose most places look pretty gloomy in a pouring rain. I do remember liking it very much last August, particularly the waterfront gardens and the nice walking trails. We dove back into the boat for a much needed nap, hoping it would clear up later.

We emerged a couple hours later to gray skies but at least no more rain and went out to have a little explore and to get some nice take-out. Along the way, we discovered that one of the local Pubs – Woolsey’s – was having a quiz night.

Maryanne has been wanting to get out to a quiz night for quite some time, but it has always been on a day we weren’t going to be there. This time we were sure to go.

We didn’t do well. We weren’t last, but we think that’s because the last place team slunk out before the last round, allowing us to pass them in a blurring comeback. The game was rigged. Firstly, most of the other teams were comprised of tables of eight or ten people to our two. Second, the questions were heavily weighted to British sports, especially events of the last couple of weeks, when we’ve been places where we haven’t even been able to pick up a radio station. Lastly and most importantly, we were the only group that didn’t start pecking away at half a dozen i-phones the moment each question was asked, dirty cheaters. At least I was able to keep from embarrassing myself too much by getting the one American question: What is the Capital of Hawaii?, right.

Still, it was good fun all around. The value of the prizes given out was way more than the total collected to join in. I’m sure the bar made it up in drink sales, particularly the younger crowd, who were busy trying to impress each other by drinking fancy cocktails that were not on special.

We actually won a prize ourselves. At the end of round three, which I think was British teen heartthrobs or some such thing, we got selected as the worst team for the round, which entitled me to go up and get a prize out of a grab bag, most of which were things like light bulbs or a packet of sweets. It turns out we got the best one in the whole bag: a packet of half a dozen ice cube trays WITH a ten pound note tucked in the bag. Our whole evening ended up costing us £3.50.


Bangor Waterfront and Coastal Walk - from our last visit in August 2009
[Maryanne]Our last week or so has felt very strange as we retrace our steps and find ourselves visiting many areas we've already been. It feels so much less of an adventure some how. Bangor really is a nice place to be based for a while, as Kyle jets off to work for a week or so, but the cost has really surprised us; I was all ready to just go and anchor off somewhere and row in when necessary, but my lovely husband insisted on staying, coughing up the dough and letting me have an easy life of it while he was away.

The weather did clear up in the couple of days before Kyle had to head off to work, and we managed a couple of nice coastal walks. There is laundry, showers and a supermarket close to hand, and I'm hoping for a balance with some tourist stuff to keep me occupied while Kyle is away too. It is nice to be able to step off the boat right on the dock. :-)

Carnlough

Pretty little Carnlough
[Kyle]In Murlough bay we hoisted the sails for a quick upwind beat to Carnlough, about 15 miles to the southeast. We had the benefit of a 3-5 knot current pushing us in the right direction, so the progress wasn’t too slow for upwind. We did have a couple of spots where the wind funneled down the glens across the opposing current and set up a pretty nasty sea, but most of them only lasted half a dozen waves or so before calming down on the other side. We heard our Welsh friends make a traffic call leaving Rathlin Island and an hour or so later saw them coming up astern motoring upwind in the zone of fastest current. We kept thinking we would cross their paths on one tack or the other, but the wind helped out our wind angle so much that we stayed well ahead of them the whole way until we pulled off for Carnlough.

The harbour at Carnlough is tiny. The entrance is only about three times the width of Footprint and there’s barely enough room inside to turn around. We found the harbor to be a lot busier than we anticipated. The entire visiting boat section was full of fishing boats cheek to jowl tied stern-to. We found a spot just big enough along the wall in the outer harbor to tie up. One of the locals, who we threw a line to, reminded us that there was a proper marina a few miles down. At first, we thought it was his way of saying we weren’t welcome, but it turned out he just thought we would need power and water hookups and the like.

We got the boat all secured and then Maryanne went to find the harbour master to find out about paying the overnight fee. After a brief conversation, he decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and told us to go on. More confusion. It turns out he meant “go on and use the harbour for free” and not, “go on and get out of here” That’s more like it!

We had a quick walk around the town to orient ourselves, and then we headed off to hike up to Cranny Falls, a round trip of a mere five kilometers. Included in the hike was the old limestone quarry and a viewpoint of the whole bay.




Hike to Cranny Falls and back
Afterwards, we went to see the other sight: the Londonderry Arms Hotel. Built in 1848 in the grand style of the time, its ground floor consists of a nice pub, a couple of grand and elegant dining rooms and several cozy sitting rooms, each with wingchairs and table lamps clustered around a big window. It was once owned by Winston Churchill, but the accounts we have read seem to indicate that he only saw the place once, probably to sell it. It seems like a marvelous place to pass an afternoon, plus they have free wifi, which we’ve been a little thin on lately so perhaps we’ll go grab a pint later.

We went back to the boat to change as it was actually starting to get hot. Along the way we caught sight of a small air-cooled Volkswagen convention. I’ve had several of these and I’m a bit nostalgic about them, even though the Car Talk guys say they’re deathtraps.


Busy little Carnlough
We also saw a parade! Whee, a parade! I heard the drums and Maryanne and I went out to watch them go by. Strange parade, nobody seemed to be having a good time. As an American, I assumed a parade would be good, clean fun. Not so. It turned out the parade was the Orangemen, a religious/political organization that can be a little insensitive (shall we say) to the local Catholic population. Maryanne stopped me before I bought a cotton candy and parked myself on the curb.

Murlough Bay

Fair Head and Murlough Bay
[Kyle]Following our afternoon on Rathlin Island, we went somewhere else we had been before: Murlough Bay. We did this simply because we liked it so much the last time and were eager to return. None of our cruising guides even gives the place a mention. The only indication that it is an anchorage at all is the little magenta anchor symbol on the chart. Our Lonely Planet Guide to Ireland has a paragraph or so about how it was once the site of a small chalk quarry, the only evidence of which is a ruined limekiln near the beach.

Murlough Bay is not so much a bay as a slight indentation along the rocky coast. Sailing by, even quite close, it looks completely untenable as an anchorage, with waves crashing onto the rocks on either side. Approaching closer to the crook of the bay, there is a tiny gap in the rocks of sandy beach that is about 50 meters long – not long enough for a stroll, but probably just the right size for a game of fetch with an energetic puppy. The slight dent in the coast and the rocks on either side of the beach disrupt the currents that race by, making for an uncharacteristically calm spot in a sea of pyramid shaped waves and swirling eddies caused by the fierce currents rushing by. All that is left is a slow, rock-you-to-sleep swell that gives the nice feeling of being on a boat without feeling like we’re underway in a rough sea.

Right up at the point where we start feeling nervous about being so close to the beach and the adjacent rocks, we dropped our spade anchor in fine sand about three meters below the surface, which it holds onto like it were a ring embedded in bedrock. We were surrounded by a huge coliseum of green hills. The cliffs of Fair Head lie just off in the near distance to the north. We were close enough to the beach to hear the surf as it landed.

The trip from Rathlin was so short that, aided by a current of up to five knots, we arrived in just over an hour. We were there by 10am, giving us the luxury of a day off. I know, I know, a day off from what? You know, from sailing and navigating, like. That can be hard. We had the whole afternoon to just loaf. The thing I really needed from all of the early starts of late was a good long nap. Without any stress about having to get up to go somewhere or do anything, I had one of the best afternoon naps in recent memory. At one point, I woke up and decided I was so content napping, I went right back to sleep. I don’t usually do that. I’ll wake up a little and then start thinking about all of the things I have to do or how I have to get up soon anyway and then it’s all over – no more sleep.

I woke up actually feeling refreshed and Maryanne and I spent the rest of the day reading and watching the world go by. To one side of the beach is a single holiday cottage that looks like it would be a great place to rent for a week or so. The guests essentially have the entire bay to themselves – except, of course for the American boat anchored off the beach. This place is definitely off the beaten path and I’m pretty sure no one has anchored here since the last American Boat the previous August. I hope we’re adding to the ambiance, although I realize Footprint is a plastic catamaran instead of a classic wooden ketch, but maybe it’s all the same to the people on the beach.

We got to see what looked like a group of new guests arriving. Three cars pulled up. The people went inside for a few minutes and then there was a huge flurry of exploration as they checked out their new surroundings. After a while, it petered out. A couple of people sat on the beach talking. A couple of others fished. Some kids went playing in the trees. After a long while, they all filtered back to the house for what I imagine was a nice meal and a good catching up.

In the evening around dinner time, I went out on deck, cast a lure into the weeds for about five minutes and caught a Pollock. It must’ve looked to the people on the beach like I do this every day as part of our routine, “Oh, it’s dinnertime. I’ll go catch a fish”. Ha! That was the first fish we’ve hooked since the Dorado on the passage from Guadeloupe to Antigua a year and a half ago and the first one we’ve actually landed since Boston six months before that. The count is now at four. Four fish, even three-fingers Tony from New Jersey can count ‘em on one hand.

We had already had dinner, so Maryanne decided to save him for her breakfast. He isn’t very large. I keep thinking of the kid’s breakfast cereal commercials in the U.S. where they say, “part of a complete breakfast”, and then show a complete breakfast with their product next to it, as if it would add anything. She’s going to still be hungry after eating that fish, unless it’s part of a complete breakfast. Still, it’s a fish and it counts.

Yeah, Murlough Bay is a pretty nice spot.

Rathlin Island, Northern Ireland

Footprint in Rathlin Island
[Kyle]With a glorious sunrise, we left Scotland under motor on in a flat sea for a bit, then a light wind filled in from the southeast and we were able to hoist the main and unroll the screacher for a fast run across the strait to Northern Ireland.

Soon, we were back in "Green Arizona", with its cliffs and pinnacles towering above the sea. We pulled in at our last stop before crossing to Scotland last year, Rathlin Island. We tucked Footprint in at the shallow end of the dock and Maryanne went to pay the £13.50 fee. She said the guy remembered us from last year.

We had a short walk around to get our legs some use and to re-familiarize ourselves with the place. We hadn’t been ashore for four days by then. It felt good to get out. It’s funny how memories play with time. We hadn’t seen this place for 318 days and yet, walking the familiar roads, it felt like we had only been gone for a couple. The sounds of the birds and the smell of the heather brought it all back as if we had never left.

We had dinner aboard Footprint and treated ourselves to a dessert at the pub, which was marvelously chocolaty. We struck up a conversation with a couple of semi-retired Welshmen who had just arrived on their boat. They gave us some good advice for later on. They were hilarious. They had been sailing together for many years and had the banter of on old couple, finishing each other’s sentences and correcting each other, exchanging playful put-downs and repeating inside jokes in stereo. They had a bunch of time off and were just sailing around without a care in the world. That’s the life, man.

Next Country: Scotland

[Kyle]The morning we left Rathlin Island, Northern Ireland for Scotland, the weather had turned back from warm and summery to thick, low clouds. Once we got out of the harbor, it started to drizzle and then rain. The visibility got worse and the wind died down to almost nothing. We put up the mainsail and the screacher to give them a good rinse. The current pushed us around the south side of Rathlin and then filled in from the north. As we were headed east, we turned a little to the north away from the South wind to maintain our course. As we got further into deep water, the current rose from 3 to 4, then 4.5 knots. The wind started to die off. Soon, we were headed 70 degrees to our intended course. Soon after that, we were enshrouded in rain and fog and being hopelessly swept toward Wales. The current would reverse in several hours but then we would be fighting both it and the wind to keep from being swept completely north of the Clyde. On came the engine. Oh, well. We needed the full set of electrics on for the fog anyway; radar, foghorn and lights. Fortunately, there was no traffic to worry about while crossing the shipping lanes. The radar only showed the areas of heavy rain that kept overtaking us.

When we finally arrived on the Scottish side, we could hardly see it. All that was visible through the fog and rain was mountainside with all of the contrast bled out. We found our anchorage on the north side of Sanda Island and found a spot tucked sufficiently behind the point to protect us from the next day’s forecast winds. Within ten minutes of our arrival, 3 more boats showed up out if the fog and anchored. We had all apparently planned to arrive right at high tide. Going ashore in the rain had little appeal so we took a much needed nap. (We had been up yucking it up with another boat a little late the night before). We were awakened by the sun streaming through the window. There were patches of blue sky!

We had planned to just stay in for the night and go ashore the next day but then we watched all of the other boats go ashore. Feeling conspicuous in our absence, we decided we should go as well. We went to the pub for a drink and to introduce ourselves. Having a boat flying an American flag around here is a great ice breaker. Usually, the first question we get asked is, ‘Did you actually sail that little boat here?’ When we answer ‘yes’, we suddenly become minor celebrities. We spent most of the evening chatting to three friends on another boat: two retired high-speed ferry captains and a schoolteacher from Northern Ireland. Before we knew it, it was dark and time for us to all head back to our respective boats and leave the Island to its three residents so they could get some sleep.

Sanda Island, Population 3! taken from nearby Sheep Island

Rathlin Island

[Maryanne]We've had 3 whole days at Rathlin Island, and we've spent those fully exploring - each day setting out in a different direction. Each evening our legs have been stiff so we know the exercise has been good for us; we found free wifi, the marina/dock is inexpensive and they have HOT SHOWERS; and it's only rained once we are home for the evening... Life is feeling good.


One of the many tall ships we spotted on our way to Rathlin Island, presumably part of the Tall Ships race, and Footprint again at a dock - what luxury
[Kyle]From Portballintrae, we left for Rathlin Island, just a couple of miles off the northeast corner of Northern Ireland. Not being in any particular hurry and since it was yet another nice day (finally?), we reefed each sail and headed for the island in light winds. I typically plan passages to have following current and have become spoiled at seeing 8 or 9 knots over the bottom with 3 or 4 through the water. (Typical sailing speeds are 6 or 7ish.) . We had a lovely couple of hours crossing the sound with nice views on both sides and the added bonus of seeing several Tall Ships along the way. We know the leg of the race from Halifax to Belfast was supposed to be wrapping up around then. We weren’t sure if they were coming or going or just sailing around but they certainly added charm to an already lovely day.

We got to the little anchorage in Church Bay on Rathlin and after a couple attempts at anchoring in the small stones of the anchorage, we resigned ourselves to tying up on the public float like everyone else did, which should have been our first clue about the anchorage. It turns out the dock is only £12.50 per day and comes with showers, so that’s not too bad.

As it was a Saturday, The little harbour was filled with weekenders from both Northern Ireland and Scotland who were all frolicking around in the water as if it were warm. Almost all had thick wetsuits on. We took a gorgeous hike first along a deserted road and then well marked trail to the southern tip of the island. The trail alternated between sheep pastures and stunning cliff views with Antrim in the background. We ended up at a lighthouse and a bay populated by a pretty large colony of seals, which were adorable, of course.


Adorable Gray Seals, just hanging out and relaxing

Scenes From the South arm of the Island
We got back to the boat and in the middle of dinner, I saw a Customs boat go by. Our big, red sore thumb of a courtesy flag had them hovering for a bit. Knowing what was coming, I went out and welcomed them aboard. The three of them were very nice. For the first time since arriving on this side of the Atlantic, we received a proper clearing in and inspection. They spent maybe an hour on board, actually copied information from our passports and boat papers and asked the specifics of our cruise, noting dates and ports of call. One of the guys even went around swabbing for drug and explosive residue. In spite of the depth of the examination, they were very courteous and we felt no sense of invasiveness. I think we were mostly glad to actually see Customs face to face and know that we’ve now been through the official process. The only discomfort we had was because it was smack in the middle of dinner so the galley was a huge mess and there were dirty dishes all over the table. They didn’t seem to care but we felt conspicuous in our apparent pigginess.

Western Rathlin Island

Scenes from the West End of the Island
Our next morning, we headed out to the end of the other arm of boomerang shaped Rathlin, the western end. The road passed over the high middle of the island through rolling hills covered by purple heather speckled with little yellow flowers. In the distance, Rathlin Sound and the Antrim coast were visible. At the far end of the island, about four steep up and down miles from Church Bay, is the West Light and the RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) sanctuary.

West Light from the sea


West Light its Cliffs full of Seabirds

West Light is unusual in that it is reputed to be the only ‘upside down’ lighthouse in the world, that is, with the lens at the base of the tower. It is also supposed to be one of the very few all-red lighthouses. Supplies for the light were pulled by horse and cart up a long ramp to the top of the cliffs and then across to the lighthouse site. The concrete was mixed on site and poured and set by hand directly into the cliff face. The light was built with the lens on the bottom because low clouds (high fog) often obscured the top of the tower, which was still necessary as it housed the long pendulum mechanism that drove the light. Many lighthouses have red sectors to warn of hazard areas. Apparently, it was decided to make West Light all-red both because of the seriousness of the adjacent hazard and to distinguish it from other nearby lights.

At the lighthouse site was also the viewing point for the RSPB sanctuary, which was home to colonies of Kittiwakes, Guillemots, Fulmars and the adorable Puffins. The site was really well done. RSPB had volunteers on hand to point things out and answer questions. They also had binoculars (nice ones!) to lend and scopes set up for people to use. We did manage to see Puffins out at sea acclimatizing their young to the environment, but they were pretty far off. We could see them well through our binoculars but they were a bit too far out for the camera.

We had our picnic lunch and then walked home under a sky that seemed constantly like it was two minutes from raining, which, fortunately it didn’t do until two minutes after we got home.

Monday

Having done the two long trails on Rathlin, we decided to have an easy day and do the final ‘easy’ trail across the narrow part of the island to the east side; the elbow of the island (the harbour is tucked in the inner elbow). ‘Easy’ was a bit of a misnomer because, to get to the other side, the path goes steeply up then steeply down. Maryanne also discovered yet another trail that we just had to do as well if we wanted the whole set.

The main focus of our first particular path was the East Light, The one that lit up our cabin in Murlough Bay. It sits high atop a cliff with a sweeping view of the Mull of Kintyre in Scotland and the entire east coast of Rathlin. Also in the immediate area of the lighthouse was the cave where Robert the Bruce lived for a year while exiled from Scotland in the 14th century. I found a very steep path leading down to the beach but was unable to locate anything more than a couple of indentations in the rock, nothing that would offer enough protection to live. The area did have a nice view toward Scotland. I could imagine that looking out and seeing it every day must have helped strengthen his resolve to return. The legend has it that he watched a spider build six failed webs before succeeding on the seventh and so he decided there and then that he would be at least as determined as that spider to succeed.

I had a horrible steep climb back up to the lighthouse where Maryanne and I then had a picnic lunch. We sat on the grass and leaned against the wall and looked out at the fields full of flowers and the sea. Little Swifts darted back and forth, playing in the wind. The sun was shining. It was almost bordering on hot. We kept looking out at various places on Rathlin and Antrim where we have been and reminiscing about them.

We got done with our lunch and took the trail to the disused coast guard lookout point further up the coast. Before ship to shore radiotelephony, lookouts used to search for boats and then report the sightings to Lloyd’s of London. Guglielmo Marconi made the first wireless transmission for Lloyd’s between Rathlin island and Torr Head in Antrim. The lookout post has a commanding view of the entire waterway between Rathlin and Kintyre and the scenery is just breathtaking.

My favourite parts of the day’s walks were the vast rolling fields of bright purple heather that we crossed. Each clump had little complimentary yellow flowers amidst the purple and green. It was magnificent.


Monday, Rush hour on the trail, and general scenery