WCP goes oop north.
- Thread starter West Cork Paul
- Start date
WEDNESDAY - Part 1
The Causeway Coast.
Leaving Belfast after breakfast we headed north to Larne, just 30 minutes drive away. Larne is where the ferry crossing to Stranraer, Scotland goes from/to and where we pick up the coast road as we head up to Portstewart where our next lodgings are.
Again, on the short drive out there, and this is a feature common across all of our route through NI, we pass through villages that are clearly and vociferously Loyalist/Unionist and those that are predominantly Republican. Without wishing to take any sides the one fact that strikes us both is Loyalist villages shout it out to the high heavens with their Union Flags and Red Hand flags and anti NI Protocol signs, there really is an uneasy feeling as one passes through, whereas the Republican villages are a little more low key (central Belfast is different though) and there’s the odd Tricolour flying, a little more use of green paint on the houses and that’s about it.
It was difficult, while driving, to stop and take a photo, I really didn’t want to for fear of a situation arising. The thought of Laura McKee, the photo-journalist who was shot in Derry a couple of years ago, loomed large in the back of my mind. After the photo above was taken (out of the window of the car whilst sat at a junction waiting for a gap in the traffic), we passed a disused and burnt out petrol station that was bedecked with such signs along with the ubiquitous Union & Red Hand flags. I really wanted to stop and photograph it but the fact there were 2 souped up boy racer cars parked up there and 4 lads standing talking, who stopped and stared with evil intent as our Republic registered car approached, made me think better of it and we drove on past, at speed.
The coast road itself is stunning, it really does hug the shoreline for mile after mile after mile.
It passes through ‘Game of Thrones’ country apparently and, so we are informed by many a written guide, the towns and scenery along this route will be instantly recognisable to GoT fans. However, as Mrs P and I are probably the only people in the Western world who haven’t seen GoT it means nothing to us in that regard. It is however simply stunning and a very impressive ride/drive. This time of year as well the autumn colours in the trees add to the beauty.
And…. You can see Scotland from there, they are that close. It’s the ringed bit on the horizon with the dark cloud over it
.
Our first stop, other than for photos, was Ballycastle for a spot of lunch. Mrs P had read about a ‘proper’ bakery which opened up a few years back after a bit of crowdfunding and which makes genuine sourdough bread and proper french pastries, plus they have a small cafe attached. Ursa Minor is it’s name, Main Street, Ballycastle. We pulled in for a light lunch, Smokey Pumpkin & Bean soup plus a cinnamon bun for takeaway dessert. I was very glad to see they are anti-Woke and fight back for the poor, maligned, protein Gluten
which gets blamed, unnecessarily for a lot of the world’s ailments.
The next stop was due to be the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge at Ballintoy which connects a tiny island to the mainland and which was built by salmon fishermen a couple of C ago to enable them to get out to the island and catch the passing wild salmon in their nets.
Alamy stock photo, not mine.
Unfortunately, it was closed
. I guess the National Trust, who own the land now, think it’s too dangerous for people to walk out there in winter, although today was dead calm. Oh well, onto the next stop, The Giant’s Causeway.
Created by volcanic action a good few millenia ago it truly is impressive. It’s as though the stones have been made by someone who owns a pre-cast concrete company and then assembled by man to create the structure. It’s truly weird.
I know, someone photo-bombed that selfie
.
There are several routes to approach it, may I suggest that if anyone else goes you take the Red Route along the cliff top to get down to it and the Blue/Green route back. Unfortunately Mrs P and I took the Green/Blue route out and decided to take the Red Route back to the car park, which involves climbing up the 250myr high cliffs. It’s much easier going down.
I’ve marked the path in red from a point half way up where we stopped for a breather
And before attempting the final ascent up the steps.
It would be much easier going down there than up. Oh, well, live and learn. Our mistake saved you. BTW, it’s about a 45min walk to/from the car parks to the causeway itself - more of your going UP the Red route.
The story of the Causeway is that a Ireland and Scotland were once joined by a great Causeway (possible as they are so close here as you’ve seen above) and a Scottish giant, Benandonner came across the causeway to take Ireland for his own. When he arrived he saw the Irish giant, Finn McCool, who was but a baby at that time, and seeing the size of him as a baby was so fearful of the giant he would grow into Benandonner turned around and ran back to Scotland, ripping up the Causeway behind him so Finn could never come and take Scotland when he grew up and became full size.
The baby Finn can be seen sitting on the rocks here, the big pillar of stone on the rocks in the sea just above centre left.
After a strenuous walk, we’re on to our next stop - Ballymoney and something bike related.
The Causeway Coast.
Leaving Belfast after breakfast we headed north to Larne, just 30 minutes drive away. Larne is where the ferry crossing to Stranraer, Scotland goes from/to and where we pick up the coast road as we head up to Portstewart where our next lodgings are.
Again, on the short drive out there, and this is a feature common across all of our route through NI, we pass through villages that are clearly and vociferously Loyalist/Unionist and those that are predominantly Republican. Without wishing to take any sides the one fact that strikes us both is Loyalist villages shout it out to the high heavens with their Union Flags and Red Hand flags and anti NI Protocol signs, there really is an uneasy feeling as one passes through, whereas the Republican villages are a little more low key (central Belfast is different though) and there’s the odd Tricolour flying, a little more use of green paint on the houses and that’s about it.
It was difficult, while driving, to stop and take a photo, I really didn’t want to for fear of a situation arising. The thought of Laura McKee, the photo-journalist who was shot in Derry a couple of years ago, loomed large in the back of my mind. After the photo above was taken (out of the window of the car whilst sat at a junction waiting for a gap in the traffic), we passed a disused and burnt out petrol station that was bedecked with such signs along with the ubiquitous Union & Red Hand flags. I really wanted to stop and photograph it but the fact there were 2 souped up boy racer cars parked up there and 4 lads standing talking, who stopped and stared with evil intent as our Republic registered car approached, made me think better of it and we drove on past, at speed.
The coast road itself is stunning, it really does hug the shoreline for mile after mile after mile.
It passes through ‘Game of Thrones’ country apparently and, so we are informed by many a written guide, the towns and scenery along this route will be instantly recognisable to GoT fans. However, as Mrs P and I are probably the only people in the Western world who haven’t seen GoT it means nothing to us in that regard. It is however simply stunning and a very impressive ride/drive. This time of year as well the autumn colours in the trees add to the beauty.
And…. You can see Scotland from there, they are that close. It’s the ringed bit on the horizon with the dark cloud over it
. Our first stop, other than for photos, was Ballycastle for a spot of lunch. Mrs P had read about a ‘proper’ bakery which opened up a few years back after a bit of crowdfunding and which makes genuine sourdough bread and proper french pastries, plus they have a small cafe attached. Ursa Minor is it’s name, Main Street, Ballycastle. We pulled in for a light lunch, Smokey Pumpkin & Bean soup plus a cinnamon bun for takeaway dessert. I was very glad to see they are anti-Woke and fight back for the poor, maligned, protein Gluten
which gets blamed, unnecessarily for a lot of the world’s ailments. The next stop was due to be the Carrick-a-rede rope bridge at Ballintoy which connects a tiny island to the mainland and which was built by salmon fishermen a couple of C ago to enable them to get out to the island and catch the passing wild salmon in their nets.
Alamy stock photo, not mine.
Unfortunately, it was closed
. I guess the National Trust, who own the land now, think it’s too dangerous for people to walk out there in winter, although today was dead calm. Oh well, onto the next stop, The Giant’s Causeway. Created by volcanic action a good few millenia ago it truly is impressive. It’s as though the stones have been made by someone who owns a pre-cast concrete company and then assembled by man to create the structure. It’s truly weird.
I know, someone photo-bombed that selfie
. There are several routes to approach it, may I suggest that if anyone else goes you take the Red Route along the cliff top to get down to it and the Blue/Green route back. Unfortunately Mrs P and I took the Green/Blue route out and decided to take the Red Route back to the car park, which involves climbing up the 250myr high cliffs
. It’s much easier going down. I’ve marked the path in red from a point half way up where we stopped for a breather
And before attempting the final ascent up the steps.
It would be much easier going down there than up. Oh, well, live and learn. Our mistake saved you. BTW, it’s about a 45min walk to/from the car parks to the causeway itself - more of your going UP the Red route.
The story of the Causeway is that a Ireland and Scotland were once joined by a great Causeway (possible as they are so close here as you’ve seen above) and a Scottish giant, Benandonner came across the causeway to take Ireland for his own. When he arrived he saw the Irish giant, Finn McCool, who was but a baby at that time, and seeing the size of him as a baby was so fearful of the giant he would grow into Benandonner turned around and ran back to Scotland, ripping up the Causeway behind him so Finn could never come and take Scotland when he grew up and became full size.
The baby Finn can be seen sitting on the rocks here, the big pillar of stone on the rocks in the sea just above centre left.
After a strenuous walk, we’re on to our next stop - Ballymoney and something bike related
.Attachments
Thanks Paul, another excellent instalment.
- and the RUC dog of repression barking at your feet (ok I made that up
Yet sounds so much like it’s lifted from a song by an Irish band……….
WEDNESDAY -Part II
Whiskey & Bikes, what’s not to like?
From the Giant’s Causeway we headed south to Bushmills, (which is a town as well as a brand of Whiskey just in case anyone wasn’t aware of that) with the intent of taking a tour, and a taster, at the Bushmill’s distillery, Ireland’s oldest distillery. Alas, as seems to becoming the norm on this trip, it was closed. Not because we were travelling out of season but because of Covid, yet one would have thought there was enough natural antiviral medicine in there to keep everyone safe. Obviously it’s open for production but just not for visitors.
Back into the car and carry on South to Ballymoney, Dunlop territory. We’re lucky and there’s a parking space right outside the Dunlop memorial garden, Mrs P elects to remain in the car and carry on with her crossword and Duolingo Italian (she’s on day 667 or so
and is now teaching Duolingo what to say rather than the other way round
). I trek off into the Robert Dunlop side of the garden.
If anyone isn’t aware of the Dunlop family then click here but they are probably the most successful road racing family of all time, Joey, his younger brother Robert and Robert’s 2 sons, William & Michael.
The list of victories of Robert is impressive, and the man was tiny, assuming the statue is life size, he’d have come up to my chest and that’s it, shame I couldn’t get a photo of me standing next to the statue.
Through the victory arch that now links the two memorial gardens (iirc there was a small family dispute and the two gardens, whilst next to each other, weren’t linked, but that’s all settled now afaik)
and into the original Joey Dunlop memorial garden. Again, if the statue’s life size and I have no reason to think it’s not, the man was tiny.
Joey’s list of victories is more extensive than Robert’s and it’s amazing that these guys flew around the world to put themselves at risk by riding at insane speeds along normal roads lined with walls, trees and street furniture, with death but a wet leaf or a split second hesitation away. Sadly we all know they both met an untimely end doing what they loved and were very good at.
As I was mulling over the ability one must have to ride at such speeds on a normal road, not to mention the ability one must have to switch off to the ever present threat of total wipeout and death, my phone rings. I extract it from my pocket to see it’s my sister, oh oh. This can only mean one thing. Sure enough the hospital have just called my sister to tell her out Dad is on his last legs and only has a couple of hours left
. Neither she nor I are in a position to get there, she’s in tears and so can’t get to her to give her a hug. We talk for a while and leave it that she’ll call me later with any further news but of course that news will only be one thing. Fuck it.
I could back to the car and tell Mrs P but that’s not going to change anything and right in front of me is Millsport Motorcycles, NI’s one and only Ducati dealership.
I may as well trot down there and have a look around, at least it will take my mind off things with something pleasurable.
Compared to the somewhat miserably barren showroom that is Ducati Rosso in Dublin this is a cornucopia of all things Ducati with the entire ground floor given over to Ducati and a few Suzukis upstairs. There must be over 50 Ducs in there on the showroom floor, mostly new but some used as well.
I do like the new Hyper 950SP and like the idea of owning one but realistically it’s not for me, I’m 60 now ffs.
Inside there’s a Superleggera, sold and awaiting collection,
one of 500 units worldwide and afaik >75,000€. It is a technological tour de force and, yes, those wings are mahoosive when seen in real life. Will this one actually get ridden? Who knows, most likely it will end up a garage queen I guess. Am I envious? No, it’s too radical a riding position for me these days.
Next to it is a very nice Pani V4R dressed in FullSix carbon. Now this one does get ridden, and ridden hard, judging by the state of the rear tyre.
No, the bike is not registered and yes that tyre looks fairly new but the rubber is burnt and covered in marbles across its width so the bike has definitely been on a track as that can’t/won’t happen on normal roads. I guess it’s someone’s track day toy.
The rest of the showroom is full of the rest of the Ducati range with probably half the bikes there being Multistradas, it’s obvious what customers want and what sells.
Upstairs is the Suzuki bit and I think it’s kinda sad (or maybe a little bit funny) Suzuki have given in completely to the camo trouser brigade and their latest streetfighter type incarnation has a camo frame.
Also, whilst upstairs they provide a viewing gallery of the workshop so you watch your bike being worked on if so desired. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my glasses on when I surreptitiously snapped this shot and didn’t realise the camera had focused on the wire within the glass rather than the scene downstairs. Still, it’s always good to have at least one photo in the @Chizel - Founding Father class.
Time to return to Mrs P, tell her the sad news, and decide what we do, first a quick photo of Joey’s Bar.
Mrs P is understandably upset for me but what do we do? I can’t get to Heartlands Hospital in Birmingham where Dad is, if we cut the tour short and head home what does that achieve? I’d just sit at home moping about. There isn’t anything can be done that’ll help Dad so we decide to continue the tour.
We retrace our steps out of Ballymoney and head back up to the Coast road at Portrush and from their drive on to Portstewart and our night’s accomodation. Whilst on the road, just outside of Portstewart I notice what looks like an empty caravan park on the left, in as much as there are Tarmac roads through and around it and concrete hard standing and a fenced off exit to/from the main road. Then as my eyes go back to the road ahead I see the road is covered staggered markings, markings that are like 3 sides of a square with the open side facing us. I suddenly realise, blimey, this is the start/finish stretch for the NW200 and that ‘caravan Park’ is actually there pits area. Of course the NW200 takes place here. Unfortunately, we’re over it and past it plus there’s a car behind us and it’s getting dark, too dark to stop and take shots. So I didn’t. Sorry. You can all make do with a scenic shot of Portrush harbour at sunset instead.
It’s now 5pm and we’re looking for our B&B in Portstewart when the phone goes again, just 80 mins after we last spoke. Yes, it’s my sister, sadly beating bad news. Dad has passed away. I find a place to pull over and have a chat with my sister and a cry and then move the conversation onto there practicalities off dealing with the aftermath. I know myself and by focusing on practical things it helps to take my mind off the emotional aspects of it, I’m shite at dealing with the emotional side of things. We finish our call, look at the map and realise I’ve missed the turning for the B&B by a country mile, hardly surprising really. We turn back find the B&B and check-in. At a time like this I fancy finishing off the bottle of Kraken I started last week when he was taken into hospital and I knew the path towards the end was being traversed. But, it’s at home, we’re here and in reality it’s not an answer, I’ve got to drive tomorrow and don’t want the evening and next day spoiled in drunken haze and the fog of a hangover. Normal service resumed, we go out, have a couple of drinks and then head off to Harry’s Shack, a beachside restaurant we’d heard a lot about on Portstewart Strand. Well, what can I say? The foods good, the place itself is done in a surf dude, rustic, stylée, but visiting it at night probably does not permit it to present its best side is the view.
The next day I thought I’d better go back and take some photos of the start/finish stretch of the NW200 as it would be remiss off me to have come all this way and not have them as memories, thus here you go.
and the ‘caravan park’
and then I thought of @JAT. I know you had to cancel your IOM tour but there’s nowt to stop you coming here for the NW200. You’ll not get asked for a Covid Cert, you can enter NI with impunity and if you wanted to could easily carry on onto the Republic. It may not be the IOM but it’s a good alternative that permits you to keep to your beliefs.
Just for you JAT
www.northwest200.org
Whiskey & Bikes, what’s not to like?
From the Giant’s Causeway we headed south to Bushmills, (which is a town as well as a brand of Whiskey just in case anyone wasn’t aware of that) with the intent of taking a tour, and a taster, at the Bushmill’s distillery, Ireland’s oldest distillery. Alas, as seems to becoming the norm on this trip, it was closed
. Not because we were travelling out of season but because of Covid, yet one would have thought there was enough natural antiviral medicine in there to keep everyone safe. Obviously it’s open for production but just not for visitors. Back into the car and carry on South to Ballymoney, Dunlop territory. We’re lucky and there’s a parking space right outside the Dunlop memorial garden, Mrs P elects to remain in the car and carry on with her crossword and Duolingo Italian (she’s on day 667 or so
and is now teaching Duolingo what to say rather than the other way round). I trek off into the Robert Dunlop side of the garden. If anyone isn’t aware of the Dunlop family then click here but they are probably the most successful road racing family of all time, Joey, his younger brother Robert and Robert’s 2 sons, William & Michael.
The list of victories of Robert is impressive, and the man was tiny, assuming the statue is life size, he’d have come up to my chest and that’s it, shame I couldn’t get a photo of me standing next to the statue.
Through the victory arch that now links the two memorial gardens (iirc there was a small family dispute and the two gardens, whilst next to each other, weren’t linked, but that’s all settled now afaik)
and into the original Joey Dunlop memorial garden. Again, if the statue’s life size and I have no reason to think it’s not, the man was tiny.
Joey’s list of victories is more extensive than Robert’s and it’s amazing that these guys flew around the world to put themselves at risk by riding at insane speeds along normal roads lined with walls, trees and street furniture, with death but a wet leaf or a split second hesitation away. Sadly we all know they both met an untimely end doing what they loved and were very good at.
As I was mulling over the ability one must have to ride at such speeds on a normal road, not to mention the ability one must have to switch off to the ever present threat of total wipeout and death, my phone rings. I extract it from my pocket to see it’s my sister, oh oh. This can only mean one thing
. Sure enough the hospital have just called my sister to tell her out Dad is on his last legs and only has a couple of hours left. Neither she nor I are in a position to get there, she’s in tears and so can’t get to her to give her a hug. We talk for a while and leave it that she’ll call me later with any further news but of course that news will only be one thing. Fuck it. I could back to the car and tell Mrs P but that’s not going to change anything and right in front of me is Millsport Motorcycles, NI’s one and only Ducati dealership.
I may as well trot down there and have a look around, at least it will take my mind off things with something pleasurable.
Compared to the somewhat miserably barren showroom that is Ducati Rosso in Dublin this is a cornucopia of all things Ducati with the entire ground floor given over to Ducati and a few Suzukis upstairs. There must be over 50 Ducs in there on the showroom floor, mostly new but some used as well.
I do like the new Hyper 950SP and like the idea of owning one but realistically it’s not for me, I’m 60 now ffs.
Inside there’s a Superleggera, sold and awaiting collection,
one of 500 units worldwide and afaik >75,000€. It is a technological tour de force and, yes, those wings are mahoosive when seen in real life. Will this one actually get ridden? Who knows, most likely it will end up a garage queen I guess. Am I envious? No, it’s too radical a riding position for me these days.
Next to it is a very nice Pani V4R dressed in FullSix carbon. Now this one does get ridden, and ridden hard, judging by the state of the rear tyre
. No, the bike is not registered and yes that tyre looks fairly new but the rubber is burnt and covered in marbles across its width so the bike has definitely been on a track as that can’t/won’t happen on normal roads. I guess it’s someone’s track day toy.
The rest of the showroom is full of the rest of the Ducati range with probably half the bikes there being Multistradas, it’s obvious what customers want and what sells.
Upstairs is the Suzuki bit and I think it’s kinda sad (or maybe a little bit funny) Suzuki have given in completely to the camo trouser brigade and their latest streetfighter type incarnation has a camo frame
. Also, whilst upstairs they provide a viewing gallery of the workshop so you watch your bike being worked on if so desired. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my glasses on when I surreptitiously snapped this shot and didn’t realise the camera had focused on the wire within the glass rather than the scene downstairs. Still, it’s always good to have at least one photo in the @Chizel - Founding Father class.
Time to return to Mrs P, tell her the sad news, and decide what we do, first a quick photo of Joey’s Bar.
Mrs P is understandably upset for me but what do we do? I can’t get to Heartlands Hospital in Birmingham where Dad is, if we cut the tour short and head home what does that achieve? I’d just sit at home moping about. There isn’t anything can be done that’ll help Dad so we decide to continue the tour.
We retrace our steps out of Ballymoney and head back up to the Coast road at Portrush and from their drive on to Portstewart and our night’s accomodation. Whilst on the road, just outside of Portstewart I notice what looks like an empty caravan park on the left, in as much as there are Tarmac roads through and around it and concrete hard standing and a fenced off exit to/from the main road. Then as my eyes go back to the road ahead I see the road is covered staggered markings, markings that are like 3 sides of a square with the open side facing us. I suddenly realise, blimey, this is the start/finish stretch for the NW200 and that ‘caravan Park’ is actually there pits area
. Of course the NW200 takes place here. Unfortunately, we’re over it and past it plus there’s a car behind us and it’s getting dark, too dark to stop and take shots. So I didn’t. Sorry. You can all make do with a scenic shot of Portrush harbour at sunset instead. It’s now 5pm and we’re looking for our B&B in Portstewart when the phone goes again, just 80 mins after we last spoke. Yes, it’s my sister, sadly beating bad news. Dad has passed away. I find a place to pull over and have a chat with my sister and a cry and then move the conversation onto there practicalities off dealing with the aftermath. I know myself and by focusing on practical things it helps to take my mind off the emotional aspects of it, I’m shite at dealing with the emotional side of things. We finish our call, look at the map and realise I’ve missed the turning for the B&B by a country mile, hardly surprising really. We turn back find the B&B and check-in. At a time like this I fancy finishing off the bottle of Kraken I started last week when he was taken into hospital and I knew the path towards the end was being traversed. But, it’s at home, we’re here and in reality it’s not an answer, I’ve got to drive tomorrow and don’t want the evening and next day spoiled in drunken haze and the fog of a hangover. Normal service resumed, we go out, have a couple of drinks and then head off to Harry’s Shack, a beachside restaurant we’d heard a lot about on Portstewart Strand. Well, what can I say? The foods good, the place itself is done in a surf dude, rustic, stylée, but visiting it at night probably does not permit it to present its best side is the view.
The next day I thought I’d better go back and take some photos of the start/finish stretch of the NW200 as it would be remiss off me to have come all this way and not have them as memories, thus here you go.
and the ‘caravan park’
and then I thought of @JAT
. I know you had to cancel your IOM tour but there’s nowt to stop you coming here for the NW200. You’ll not get asked for a Covid Cert, you can enter NI with impunity and if you wanted to could easily carry on onto the Republic. It may not be the IOM but it’s a good alternative that permits you to keep to your beliefs. Just for you JAT
North West 200 Post-Race Week 2026 - North West 200
The North West 200 is Ireland’s largest outdoor sporting event, attracting crowds in excess of 150,000 as well as the biggest names in the sport.
www.northwest200.org
Sorry to hear of your loss Paul 
Condolences for your dad Paul, thoughts to you and yours from me and mine. 
Ending? Nah, that’s just the middle bit, got a couple more days to go yet
.
Sorry @West Cork Paul im only seeing this now very sorry to hear of your dad's passing buddy pots of hugs Jay
THURSDAY
Malin & Donegal
Today’s planned route was to visit Malin Head, Ireland’s most northerly point and then sweep around the coast of Co.Donegal to Donegal Town. Unfortunately there are two ferry crossings we planned to take, one from McGilligan Point in Co.Derry (UK) to Greencastle (Eire) on the Inishowen peninsula and the other from Buncrana to Rathmullen, which would have saved a whole load of road miles and time, but guess what? Yep, it’s off season and they were closed so we had to retrace our steps from Malin Head back to the outskirts of Derry as that’s the only way off the Inishowen Peninsula.
Truth be known however, despite what Google maps says I’d the time to do it, it actually takes far far longer and I probably was being a bit over ambitious that day.
Incidentally, another aspect came to light when planning it and that’s that Google Maps only allows 7 waypoints plus start and finish, thus we actually needed the route map to go on to Killybegs and then Donegal but couldn’t get that included.
Another useless fact as I type this on my phone is that the auto correct keeps wanting to change Killybegs to Kill eggs - it did it when I was trying to do my route planning too, fecking thing
.
First stops however, were to go back in the daylight and take photos of the start/finish and pit area of the NW200 (see the previous post) and also of Harry's Shack on the beach at Portstewart as it was pitch black when we ate there the previous night.
Much nicer in daylight.
Back one route and, courtesy of nature and an incoming system of wet weather which has been forecast, there's a beautiful complete rainbow to our right which just had to be photographed.
We hit the outskirts of Derry (if you're republican) or Londonderry (if you're Loyalist), I couldn't photograph it but as we drove along there were several road signs for Londonderry xx miles where the London part had been spray painted over.
Incidentally, to some, but not all, the terms Loyalist and Unionist are interchangeable. A Loyalist is someone who is loyal to the Crown and a Unionist is someone who is strongly for the retention of the Union of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Hence a Unionist my also, but not necessarily so, be a Loyalist and vice versa - complicated isn't it?.
Derry is a very old city, with a beautiful and intact mediaeval walled city at it's heart on the west bank of the Foyle, It also has more than its fair share of segregated and sectarian areas and a long history of violence and trouble, just as Belfast does. Sadly, we don't have time to stop and visit it on this trip as we have rendezvous to make on Friday much further south. However, we'll be back for a short break city visit at some time in the not too distant future.
We cross the Foyle and head north onto the Inishowen peninsula. We're still in the UK, and I thought the river was the border but it's not. There really is no way to tell when one is at the border other than an A road becomes an N road in it's naming, our phones ping and advise us we have entered the UK and our tarriffs are the same and the sat nav pops a screen up notifying us of the national speed limits and that they are in Kmh or Mph depending and that's about it.
The first town we hit that's half in the Republic and half in the UK is Muff - cue the jokes. Yes, there are some businesses that have made a play of words in their business names, i.e. Muff Wax - a car valeting company, Muff Barbers and the Muff Liquour Co., that makes Whiskey, but sadly no Muff Dive Shop . Mrs P and I were surprised there weren't more businesses playing around with innuendo, and I'll leave it to your feral minds to come up with some suitable business names, but we reckoned the locals are fed up of the jokes and probably quitely, but strongly, suggest to anyone that starts up a business that perhaps they may want to call it something other than you know what.
We continue north along the eastern edge of the Inishowen Peninsula, along the coast road, and also running along the edge of the weather system that's coming in from the west. It was actually quite impressive, although these photos don't do it justice, but on the right hand side of us, to the east and over the Foyle estuary the skies were blue and sunny, whilst on the left they were dark and foreboding.
The road pretty much stops at Moville with just a short spur heading a bit further north to service the non-running McGilligan to Greencastle ferry, so we turn left and head over the mountains to Malin Head.
We're familiar with Mizen Head in the far southwest of Ireland as that's near to where we live and we both assumed that Malin Head would be similar in as much as it would have a visitor centre, large car park etc etc, but no. It's actually quite tiny. It's a single track road out to the old tower, built during the Napoleonic wars to keep a look out for invading french ships, about 8 car park spaces a brand new toilet block and that's about it. How coaches get up there and turn around in the height of summer is beyond me, perhaps they don't
.
Next stop, Iceland
It was also blowing a gale up there and I very nearly lost my hat which blew off whilst trying to take the ubiquitous selfie next to the WAW sign, fortunately I managed to retrieve it half way down the hill.
We also noticed several of the houses had special fixings on their roofs, especially the thatched ones, to prevent the roof blowing away in the middle of the winter storms.
Interestingly, the tower has a few plaques affixed to it commerorating people and groups that have completed the Mizen to Malin route, be it on foot or bicycle,
Including one masochistic individual that did it non-stop in 19hrs and 17 mins on a bicycle
.
There is also what is probably the best preserved navigation aid from WWII that remains in Ireland. During the war Ireland was a neutral country, however, they/we did surreptitiously aid the Allied war effort by setting out whitewashed stones with the country name and number along the western seaboard. Thus Allied aircraft (mostly US) flying across the Atlantic would know a) when they had reached the Western edge of Europe and b) which part of the Irish coast they were crossing.
Then of course there's the necessary Start/Finish line for any Malin-Mizen or Mizen-Malin venture, one that just maybe some of you will see for yourselves come 21st June next year
.
As we often times visit Crookhaven and the most southerly pub in Ireland we felt it necessary to call into Farran's, the most northerly pub in Ireland which, thankfully, wasn't closed
A bit of lunch and then onwards to our next stop.
Malin & Donegal
Today’s planned route was to visit Malin Head, Ireland’s most northerly point and then sweep around the coast of Co.Donegal to Donegal Town. Unfortunately there are two ferry crossings we planned to take, one from McGilligan Point in Co.Derry (UK) to Greencastle (Eire) on the Inishowen peninsula and the other from Buncrana to Rathmullen, which would have saved a whole load of road miles and time, but guess what? Yep, it’s off season and they were closed so we had to retrace our steps from Malin Head back to the outskirts of Derry as that’s the only way off the Inishowen Peninsula.
Truth be known however, despite what Google maps says I’d the time to do it, it actually takes far far longer and I probably was being a bit over ambitious that day.
Incidentally, another aspect came to light when planning it and that’s that Google Maps only allows 7 waypoints plus start and finish, thus we actually needed the route map to go on to Killybegs and then Donegal but couldn’t get that included.
Another useless fact as I type this on my phone is that the auto correct keeps wanting to change Killybegs to Kill eggs - it did it when I was trying to do my route planning too, fecking thing
.First stops however, were to go back in the daylight and take photos of the start/finish and pit area of the NW200 (see the previous post) and also of Harry's Shack on the beach at Portstewart as it was pitch black when we ate there the previous night.
Much nicer in daylight.
Back one route and, courtesy of nature and an incoming system of wet weather which has been forecast, there's a beautiful complete rainbow to our right which just had to be photographed.
We hit the outskirts of Derry (if you're republican) or Londonderry (if you're Loyalist), I couldn't photograph it but as we drove along there were several road signs for Londonderry xx miles where the London part had been spray painted over.
Incidentally, to some, but not all, the terms Loyalist and Unionist are interchangeable. A Loyalist is someone who is loyal to the Crown and a Unionist is someone who is strongly for the retention of the Union of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Hence a Unionist my also, but not necessarily so, be a Loyalist and vice versa - complicated isn't it?.
Derry is a very old city, with a beautiful and intact mediaeval walled city at it's heart on the west bank of the Foyle, It also has more than its fair share of segregated and sectarian areas and a long history of violence and trouble, just as Belfast does. Sadly, we don't have time to stop and visit it on this trip as we have rendezvous to make on Friday much further south. However, we'll be back for a short break city visit at some time in the not too distant future.
We cross the Foyle and head north onto the Inishowen peninsula. We're still in the UK, and I thought the river was the border but it's not. There really is no way to tell when one is at the border other than an A road becomes an N road in it's naming, our phones ping and advise us we have entered the UK and our tarriffs are the same and the sat nav pops a screen up notifying us of the national speed limits and that they are in Kmh or Mph depending and that's about it.
The first town we hit that's half in the Republic and half in the UK is Muff - cue the jokes
. Yes, there are some businesses that have made a play of words in their business names, i.e. Muff Wax - a car valeting company, Muff Barbers and the Muff Liquour Co., that makes Whiskey, but sadly no Muff Dive Shop . Mrs P and I were surprised there weren't more businesses playing around with innuendo, and I'll leave it to your feral minds to come up with some suitable business names, but we reckoned the locals are fed up of the jokes and probably quitely, but strongly, suggest to anyone that starts up a business that perhaps they may want to call it something other than you know what.We continue north along the eastern edge of the Inishowen Peninsula, along the coast road, and also running along the edge of the weather system that's coming in from the west. It was actually quite impressive, although these photos don't do it justice, but on the right hand side of us, to the east and over the Foyle estuary the skies were blue and sunny, whilst on the left they were dark and foreboding.
We're familiar with Mizen Head in the far southwest of Ireland as that's near to where we live and we both assumed that Malin Head would be similar in as much as it would have a visitor centre, large car park etc etc, but no. It's actually quite tiny. It's a single track road out to the old tower, built during the Napoleonic wars to keep a look out for invading french ships, about 8 car park spaces a brand new toilet block and that's about it. How coaches get up there and turn around in the height of summer is beyond me, perhaps they don't
.Next stop, Iceland
It was also blowing a gale up there and I very nearly lost my hat which blew off whilst trying to take the ubiquitous selfie next to the WAW sign, fortunately I managed to retrieve it half way down the hill.
We also noticed several of the houses had special fixings on their roofs, especially the thatched ones, to prevent the roof blowing away in the middle of the winter storms.
Interestingly, the tower has a few plaques affixed to it commerorating people and groups that have completed the Mizen to Malin route, be it on foot or bicycle,
Including one masochistic individual that did it non-stop in 19hrs and 17 mins on a bicycle
.There is also what is probably the best preserved navigation aid from WWII that remains in Ireland. During the war Ireland was a neutral country, however, they/we did surreptitiously aid the Allied war effort by setting out whitewashed stones with the country name and number along the western seaboard. Thus Allied aircraft (mostly US) flying across the Atlantic would know a) when they had reached the Western edge of Europe and b) which part of the Irish coast they were crossing.
Then of course there's the necessary Start/Finish line for any Malin-Mizen or Mizen-Malin venture, one that just maybe some of you will see for yourselves come 21st June next year
.As we often times visit Crookhaven and the most southerly pub in Ireland we felt it necessary to call into Farran's, the most northerly pub in Ireland which, thankfully, wasn't closed
A bit of lunch and then onwards to our next stop.
The first town we hit that's half in the Republic and half in the UK is Muff - cue the jokes
Muff Diving Club in Muff, Ireland
We are the famous official Muff Diving Club based in Muff, Ireland. Membership is now open Worldwide for yourself or for a perfect present
www.muffdivingclub.ie
I've been to Mizen head but I reckon all the tourists go to the giants causeway hence no need for parking facilitiesTHURSDAY
Malin & Donegal
Today’s planned route was to visit Malin Head, Ireland’s most northerly point and then sweep around the coast of Co.Donegal to Donegal Town. Unfortunately there are two ferry crossings we planned to take, one from McGilligan Point in Co.Derry (UK) to Greencastle (Eire) on the Inishowen peninsula and the other from Buncrana to Rathmullen, which would have saved a whole load of road miles and time, but guess what? Yep, it’s off season and they were closed so we had to retrace our steps from Malin Head back to the outskirts of Derry as that’s the only way off the Inishowen Peninsula.
View attachment 31111
Truth be known however, despite what Google maps says I’d the time to do it, it actually takes far far longer and I probably was being a bit over ambitious that day.
Incidentally, another aspect came to light when planning it and that’s that Google Maps only allows 7 waypoints plus start and finish, thus we actually needed the route map to go on to Killybegs and then Donegal but couldn’t get that included.
Another useless fact as I type this on my phone is that the auto correct keeps wanting to change Killybegs to Kill eggs - it did it when I was trying to do my route planning too, fecking thing
First stops however, were to go back in the daylight and take photos of the start/finish and pit area of the NW200 (see the previous post) and also of Harry's Shack on the beach at Portstewart as it was pitch black when we ate there the previous night.
View attachment 31092
View attachment 31093
Much nicer in daylight.
Back one route and, courtesy of nature and an incoming system of wet weather which has been forecast, there's a beautiful complete rainbow to our right which just had to be photographed.
View attachment 31094
We hit the outskirts of Derry (if you're republican) or Londonderry (if you're Loyalist), I couldn't photograph it but as we drove along there were several road signs for Londonderry xx miles where the London part had been spray painted over.
Incidentally, to some, but not all, the terms Loyalist and Unionist are interchangeable. A Loyalist is someone who is loyal to the Crown and a Unionist is someone who is strongly for the retention of the Union of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Hence a Unionist my also, but not necessarily so, be a Loyalist and vice versa - complicated isn't it?.
Derry is a very old city, with a beautiful and intact mediaeval walled city at it's heart on the west bank of the Foyle, It also has more than its fair share of segregated and sectarian areas and a long history of violence and trouble, just as Belfast does. Sadly, we don't have time to stop and visit it on this trip as we have rendezvous to make on Friday much further south. However, we'll be back for a short break city visit at some time in the not too distant future.
View attachment 31096
We cross the Foyle and head north onto the Inishowen peninsula. We're still in the UK, and I thought the river was the border but it's not. There really is no way to tell when one is at the border other than an A road becomes an N road in it's naming, our phones ping and advise us we have entered the UK and our tarriffs are the same and the sat nav pops a screen up notifying us of the national speed limits and that they are in Kmh or Mph depending and that's about it.
The first town we hit that's half in the Republic and half in the UK is Muff - cue the jokes
View attachment 31097
We continue north along the eastern edge of the Inishowen Peninsula, along the coast road, and also running along the edge of the weather system that's coming in from the west. It was actually quite impressive, although these photos don't do it justice, but on the right hand side of us, to the east and over the Foyle estuary the skies were blue and sunny, whilst on the left they were dark and foreboding.
The road pretty much stops at Moville with just a short spur heading a bit further north to service the non-running McGilligan to Greencastle ferry, so we turn left and head over the mountains to Malin Head.
View attachment 31099
We're familiar with Mizen Head in the far southwest of Ireland as that's near to where we live and we both assumed that Malin Head would be similar in as much as it would have a visitor centre, large car park etc etc, but no. It's actually quite tiny. It's a single track road out to the old tower, built during the Napoleonic wars to keep a look out for invading french ships, about 8 car park spaces a brand new toilet block and that's about it. How coaches get up there and turn around in the height of summer is beyond me, perhaps they don't
View attachment 31100
Next stop, Iceland
View attachment 31101
It was also blowing a gale up there and I very nearly lost my hat which blew off whilst trying to take the ubiquitous selfie next to the WAW sign, fortunately I managed to retrieve it half way down the hill.
View attachment 31106
We also noticed several of the houses had special fixings on their roofs, especially the thatched ones, to prevent the roof blowing away in the middle of the winter storms.
View attachment 31107
Interestingly, the tower has a few plaques affixed to it commerorating people and groups that have completed the Mizen to Malin route, be it on foot or bicycle,
View attachment 31102
Including one masochistic individual that did it non-stop in 19hrs and 17 mins on a bicycle
View attachment 31103
There is also what is probably the best preserved navigation aid from WWII that remains in Ireland. During the war Ireland was a neutral country, however, they/we did surreptitiously aid the Allied war effort by setting out whitewashed stones with the country name and number along the western seaboard. Thus Allied aircraft (mostly US) flying across the Atlantic would know a) when they had reached the Western edge of Europe and b) which part of the Irish coast they were crossing.
View attachment 31104
Then of course there's the necessary Start/Finish line for any Malin-Mizen or Mizen-Malin venture, one that just maybe some of you will see for yourselves come 21st June next year
View attachment 31105
As we often times visit Crookhaven and the most southerly pub in Ireland we felt it necessary to call into Farran's, the most northerly pub in Ireland which, thankfully, wasn't closed
View attachment 31108
A bit of lunch and then onwards to our next stop.
View attachment 31109
Another instalment whereby I can vicariously travel Ireland, cheers Mr & Mrs WCP 
BTW Paul, when you reached Muff, was there any diving facilities?
BTW Paul, when you reached Muff, was there any diving facilities?
A late edit, Mrs P just cleared out her handbag and found a receipt from the Muff Products Co
Muff Diving Club in Muff, Ireland
We are the famous official Muff Diving Club based in Muff, Ireland. Membership is now open Worldwide for yourself or for a perfect present
that’s brilliant, 29.99 to join, lifetime membership and a t-shirt proclaiming you’re a Muff Diver 