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Sun, sand, sea… and mountains!
Of course I would love to get away to a country far far away for a few weeks over the Summer. To enjoy a a different culture, the sights, the photos opportunities, cheaper goods and so on. This year, unlike the last I will not be jetting off to the US of A or any place of such distance and value for money - not necessarily to live up to my consciousness of the environment’s poor health; foot prints, carbon, warming on a global scale and so forth; I may go farther next year - but due to the smaller, closer-to-home holiday plans I have been scheming, 264 miles could be the farthest this year distance traveled this year. With weather such as this, who needs to venture too far (I keep telling myself).
I have many daytrips, weekend-trips and general holidaying periods, to relax and not work, planned for the Summer, across all of Ireland, and possibly Scotland.
This weekend was no different than recent weeks, and hopefully many weeks to come.
Early on Saturday afternoon myself, Ronan (cousin) and Chris (brother) headed to Newcastle, Co. Down. Destination: The Mourne Mountains.
I had never walked up the Mournes before, barely seen them in fact. The last time I was in Newcastle was probably with school and remember it being a very crap little town with an outdoor swimming pool which is nothing but ridiculous in our climate.
Having said that, I was very surprised at how nice this town is now. Modernised and tourist friendly, and with amazing weather, though I guess they couldn’t help that.
After touching the sand, climbing on the rocks and taking in the superb view we headed on our hike up the mountain. It didn’t take long for the sweat to start dripping as we walked on a trail of excitement and colour, following the stream, complete with miniature waterfalls, for two and a half hours. It was beautiful.
Much to Ronan’s annoyance Chris and I stopped every few steps along the way to get the greatest shot of the water and the best view as we made our slow ascent and much the same on the way back down.
It was a very good day.
More photos on flickr.
That mountain over yonder always look appealing. I often stare at it from my work on the 9th floor, I stare at it when I’m walking in the street and on the bus. Its always there, just outside the city, looking all natural, vast and full of nature - yet I never get very close to it.
So on Wednesday afternoon, having left work early, I had enjoy the shining sun before heading home, and always in search of something different I decided to take a trip on the 1b bus along the Antrim Road.
First stop, Bellevue Arms. I always remember this bar as I pass it going along the motorway, generally on my way to Portstewart throughout my childhood, and I have always wanted to get up to where it is, as it is beside the bridge the road goes under. As I got closer to it I actually felt excited to finally be close to it, then going inside. I wasn’t drinking, neither was Ronan, so we left again.
After uncovering one of those great mysteries of my life, we headed to the zoo. Well to the entrance to the zoo at least. The decision was made just a short while before that the zoo would be left until Saturday, so we went to Cave Hill Country Park.
A s I said above, I see the mountains which surround Belfast every day - they’re kinda hard to avoid - and I do always gaze at them, wishing I was there. It wasn’t long before I regretted wearing converse. With a small bit of mud, and lots of uphill walking struggling, we made it to McArts Fort, which stand almost 368 metres (about 1200 feet) above sea level. From here there is a truly spectacular view of Belfast (the North and the lough at least).
At the Fort there is a cave, but it was far too cold to make any effort to get inside. After taking it all in, and taking some photos, we made it back down before it got dark. Thankfully there was a couple infront of us to lead us back as it had gotten dark before we made it to Belfast Castle.
Being at the top of a mountain (or large hill) looking down on the city is quite an experience. The idea of all those people doing such a multitude of general activities, all the while I’m at the top of a mountain. Watching over it all.
As far as I remember I have never been to Belfast Castle, though probably at some time when I was younger, like so many things. Taking a look around inside it seems like it would have been a nice place to live, which is what its primary use was from it was built in 1870 until being presented to the City of Belfast in 1934.
So having had a taster, I was looking forward to doing it all again on Saturday, as I did with Miriam, visitor to Belfast for another 2 1/2 weeks. Having not been to the zoo in quite a few years, a trip was definitely in order, and now I finally had someone who was didn’t think it a totally ridiculous idea.
As anyone in Belfast will know, Saturday, and indeed each day so far this week since, was a beautiful day. My coat stayed in my bag. There are many things to be said about Belfast Zoo. Most of them I wouldn’t be able to voice myself as I have - believe it or not - never been to any other zoo before. It’s all I know. And for that reason I’ve always liked it. Though having been so few times I am always 10 years old when I’am there, in primary three.
The main thing that strikes me about this zoo is that we can’t possibly have the natural climate for any of the animals which reside there, besides of course the otters. They should all be in either much hotter climates or much colder. The monkeys were fun the watch playing together.
The giraffes were so hungry they started eating each other.
The eagle liked to stare out of its glass cage.
The lion looked depressed sitting on his own at the far end of his field.
Then there’s the penguins and sea lions. It will never be cold enough. It does feel like it. But I hear rumour it gets colder at the poles. Disappointingly the polar bear is no longer there.
The most amusing sight had to have been the elephant having his nails filed. Once a month they must have each of their toe nails cut, though spread out over a few days so as it isn’t so stressful. Upon the command by the zoo keepers the elephant sat down, then lay down, getting back up again, and saluting to the small crowd. Rather than a ‘circus trick’ this is all in aid of training them to do this for when they are seen to by vets and preventing tranquillisers and a 3 1/2 ton elephant crashing to the ground.
Again, the plan was to get to Belfast Castle via the hill trail. This time, however, we didn’t have unknowing guides to lead us back, and so we almost headed to the to. Thankfully we met two walkers who had just come from the top to lead us along the right track.
That evening, I was in much pain from all that walking. All this climbing and walking lately has given me a great desire to do it more often, certainly get to the top of this one soon.
What’s that rule again? Oh yeah, never cry in front of a girl. But there was, or at least I thought at the time, a very good reason.
We had decided to take a day trip. Portstewart was suggested and agreed to. The train left Botanic Station at close to 1pm, arriving at around 2:30pm. Trains are awesome.
Very hungry when we arrived we searched for a good 20 minutes, maybe more, for a bar/restaurant to get something decent to eat. Eventually we found Wetherspoons across the bridge at the top of a hill. After a satisfying lunch and pint, we decided there was nothing to do in this ghost town - so we headed to Portrush.
Sundays, it has been discovered, are not the day to go on day trips. Almost everything is closed. People did seem to be milling about the town centre, unbeknownst where they were going or where they had purchased the variety of goods in their plastic bags. While we wandered lost and around in circles find a pub like two desperate alcoholics on a huge hangover in search of the greatest cure, more alcohol.
Eventually a kind shop assistant pointed us in the right direction. We after walking in one final oversized circle, we found our food haven of sweet nourishment.
The next bus to Portrush didn’t take long in arriving. Of course as [terrible] tour guide, I hoped there would be something of interest in this town, more so at least than the last. Unfortunately, this is where the incident happened. I had been curious about the lack of people, it is normally busy, bustling even. Just around the corner was Barry’s Amusements, it will be fun from here on, I thought to myself.
I was wrong. Barry’s was closed. I was suddenly very sad. A tear I’m certain. My childhood. Gone.
I first set foot on the sandy sand of the the Porstewart Strand at not even a year old, and have visited at least once a year since since. Then around 1994 my Granny bought a house on a hill overlooking the beach, the costs and upkeep is contributed by the whole extended family, with each family marking on the calendar when they would be staying throughout the year. I always made sure to be there for my birthday in July.
Portstewart is a fairly quiet town with play-parks, scenery, small shops along the promenade and of course the beautiful beach with its high sand dunes. Portrush, on the other hand is filled with lots of amusement arcades. Naturally I wanted to go there as much as possible. Barry’s Amusements, the biggest in amusement arcade in Northern Ireland, is where I really wanted go. The bumper cars, 2p slot machines, ghost train - which scared the crap out of me when I was young, and other ways to spend a small amount of money and as many hours as possible is I had my way.
The roller coaster, on the other hand, I was never too fond of the look of. Eventually I built up the courage to go on it. It was awesome. Then a few years later they changed it and put a loop in it. I won’t go on it now.
So last Sunday when I saw it was closed and looked very derelict inside I was overcome. I would never be able to do any of those things again.
It was only when I got home that I found out Barry’s isn’t closed forever, it just isn’t open from October through to March. What a relief!
We enjoyed the sunset and headed towards the top of a big hill, but I couldn’t find it so we headed back.
After a long walk we caught the bus to Portstewart, thankfully they are only 10-15mins apart. By this time it was 6pm and we had to get back to Coleraine for the train at 8pm, but Portstewart is small and there ain’t much to see especially in the dark. That beautiful beach couldn’t be seen, but I wasn’t lying about it’s awesomeness.
I do hate when I end up writing about things that happened so long ago - well only last week, but still. I’ve had quite a busy week; meeting new people, taking photographs, working on photographs, and of course that thing that I hate, work. On Tuesday I went to see The Simpsons Movie. It was good, of course. I mean, its still The simpsons we’re talking about here. On the other hand, it was pretty much just an extended episode. A very good, extra long episode.
I do hope they continue to make it though, it doesn’t ever seem to be losing its humour and ability to be so current.
So back to Derry, not literally; but in photographic form. On Saturday I awoke at about 12 noon, wondering how I was going to survive the day without any money…
Much of the early afternoon was spent wandering around the city, photographing all that was going on. With so many street performers and buskers in various locations, there really was a lot to photograph.
For me, this was the strangest act. Two men and a young boy singing acapella. Here they are singing a song I assume is called ‘Don’t Buy into Debt’, which simply is the title, repeated many many times.
The overall winners of the busking/performance competition were the excellent Balkan Alien Band; playing the traditional music of a Jewish wedding. Very entertaining, keeping a constant crowd.
There were also street performers on stilts. This is Becky
Benny Bee, another performer, who juggled things, often badly, and told jokes, again, quite often badly, though still got a large crowd and made them laugh. Winning in the end, the prize for ‘Best Craic’. In this picture, he is about to get on top of his small later, supported by absolutely nothing, followed by some knife juggling.
‘Hands up who thinks I’m an idiot right about now’
‘Ah but I’m a professional idiot!’
Next was an escape artist (forget name). It is definitely painful to watch someone in so much pain. Here he is pulling a chain from around his neck over his face in order to let himself free.
Later, activity continued in the Craft Village for the Féile Folk festival
I ended up missing the last bus on Saturday night so I had to stay again, though I was in great company I’m glad I didn’t rush off. Derry rocks and I can’t wait to get back.
Just another fantastic weekend to make the week days appear so extremely dull - even though they aren’t that bad.
The decision was made last Thursday to accept a kind offer to stay with someone I hadn’t met in a city I hadn’t been to in 19 months, even though my funds where very low. I’m very glad I went.
For a week, the Féile ‘07 festival had been running in Derry city with a million different activities each day. Ending on Sunday evening, there was a lot going on all weekend.
Straight from work on Friday afternoon I got the bus to Derry, arriving at close to 7pm, I quickly made my way to Masons to catch the last song of Triggerman’s set. It was at this point that I met the man who would be guiding me around the city and its weekend events over the next two days.
Welcome to Free Music Derry is a great play on words based on the political graffiti on one of the walls of the city - I wish now I had gone to see it. In this case it was the name given to the even on Friday night. 20+ bands in 7 bars, and all free!
Friday night was spent mostly with pint in one hand, camera in the other before moving onto the next bar to catch a different band. The streets where filled with friendly music loving folk. It was a great atmosphere all round.
The final of Battle of the Unplugged was also taking place in Bound for Boston. Unfortunately I got sidetracked and forgot to return for the final acts, catching only the first two.
Sandinos next for Our Krypton Son and Ard Ri
Later, I caught up with the Cutaways in a now very busy Bound For Boston.
Back to the Dungloe for Captain Kennedy and Skruff
Of course, because I have a nice camera, I must be from a newspaper, right? These women repeatedly heard ‘yes’ to ‘no’ in answer to that question:
Back to the Bound For Boston for the Cutaways
A terribly enjoyable evening. The rest of it spent with a few pints!
To be continued… tomorrow.
All photographs can be seen on Flickr
A work colleague of mine who lives in Larne told me on Friday that there was photographable stuff happening in the town. A car show and other outdoor activities. Even though I ended up having a late night, I got up early and got the 10:06am train. I had never been to Larne before, or been on the Larne railway line. The scenery along the way was beautiful.
When I got to the town I followed the signs and the traffic cops to the town centre and Main Street where there were lots of people enjoying the sun and going about their business or whatever they do in small towns when its sunny. Over the course of June the town is host to ‘Larne Alive‘, a small festival celebrating… well Larne really. Various family and children orientated activities simply celebrating being Larne.
I caught the tail-end of the first parade.
I followed them to the car park of the adult education centre where they were all parked.
Shortly after that the first performance by The Barren Carrousel began in the square, or Broadway as its called.
Then a photographer sat right in front of me. Hoping to get a better shot, thankfully he didn’t stay for long.
I thought about asking the other photographers why they were there, I’m assuming it was a local paper thing. I made the most of their presence though and stole their promo setup shots.
When they had finished, two “statues” appeared nearby. Their costumes were brilliant and they pulled it off well, moving occasionally, and generally entertaining the younger kids. The light trees around them made a great backdrop too.
Soon after lunch was the second car parade.
Followed by the second performance by The Barren Carrousel.
Later I got to drive in a nice 1996 Toyota in the third and final parade.
This was followed by a 10 minute tour of the town before my train home. The strangest thing about this town are the paintings on the side three apartment blocks.
Yes, that is a plane on the side of this building! Hindsight is a great thing.
To most people Larne is just a harbour which leads to Stranraer via ferry. We just happened to be at the right place at the right time when this one was approaching.
I had a good day, and although I put on some sun cream, and had it with me, I still managed to get a little burnt on my nose and cheeks. It was a fun way to spend a Saturday. Where to next?
Yesterday I got my wish. I went to the beach.
This has been going on for a good few weeks now - months even - a desire to see other parts of Northern Ireland. Partly the fault of Flickr, particularly the NI group where there are often great photographs by photographers (or people with cameras?) in other parts of the country, rather than just Belfast where I know. Having said that, the Belfast group is always filled with pictures of parts of Belfast I have never been to, or what is often the case, just wouldn’t go to.
So anyway - wanting to see other parts of NI is all well and good. But where, and how do I get there. So far I have thought of Carrickfergus and it’s castle. I haven’t been to Portstewart in 2 or more years, I will try and get up there over the summer, along with Portrush and Coleraine. I don’t really want to go back to Derry for a while - except to take a picture of the Seagate Technology facility, more to the point, the street name sign 1 Disc Dr. Yes, that’s what it says Disc Drive!
With all the great weather we’ve been having lately it suddenly occurred to me that the last time I was at the beach was in Rhode Island, in the US of A in the summer of 2005. As usual, thinking it was a great idea and that everyone else would surely agree with me and be queuing up to join me on my mini adventure. But, as usual, I was very wrong. A few laughs, a few ‘I’m busy staying in watching dvd/tv/doing something else. So I went on my own. This doesn’t bother me. I just can’t understand why anyone would say no.
The day came. I had been looking forward to it all week. Finally it was here. With a slight taste of alcohol on my breath from the night before, I got up showed and got the train at 13:20 from Botanic Station. I haven’t even been on a train in Northern Ireland in over 2 years, I wasn’t even sure what to do. Thankfully someone else went to the train before me and knew to push the button to open the door; they don’t all open here when the bus stops.
I took photos all along the way, as if I had never seen trees before, and everything else that passes the train on the way to Helen’s Bay; my chosen sandy destination.
Once I arrived I didn’t quite know where to go. So I went left, soon passing a sign that said “Welcome to Helen’s Bay”. I had left the town, but then just ahead was a sign that read “Crawfordsburn Country Park”. I knew there was a beach somewhere in here.
Eventually after walking around the woodland I found the sea and sand. I ran and jumped in the sand, getting much in my shoes.
After walking around for a few hours, getting sand in every orifice, I was tired and hungry. It was time to go home. Though I felt very satisfied.
Now to decide where to go next. I have a train timetable. It shall be put to good use.
On a lighter note… I notice this every day as I walk along the Lisburn Road. I kinda laugh.
