From North to South, via the West and the Wild Atlantic Way
Sunday 12 May 2024
Back in April 2023, my dear friend Neil Clarke and I sat outside of a Madrid bar and agreed that a holiday we'd like to take would be a road trip around Ireland. A year or so later, after much planning and poring over of maps and booking.com, we set off on Neil's birthday for Liverpool to get the ferry to Belfast to embark upon our Irish adventure. Waterproof trousers and walking boots packed in the boot of my Clio, having of course looked ahead at the forecast, we set off from south London on the hottest day of the year so far for the first leg of our journey.
After a relatively stress-free Sunday drive, Liverpool was busy. Having been misled by my somewhat out of date satnav, we parked in the St John's Centre and headed for the Albert Dock along with a substantial proportion of the city's population, every man jack of them walking at a pace half that of a couple of day trippers (see what I did then?) with limited time to spare.
We visited the temporary Tate (really, don't bother!), the Western Approaches museum (if you like Churchill's War Rooms, this is right up your alley - like CWR, they locked up of the nerve centre for Allied supply ships on VE day, manned mainly by WRENs, and let it moulder for many years), and wandered along what should be named Cavern or Beatles Street - delightfully tacky.
After much meandering and some tea and cake, we headed to meet my old uni friend Chris Barker at Mc Guffy's bar followed by a pizza at Rudi's. We then ventured out into the pouring rain back to the car in order to navigate our way to Birkenhead and our ferry. The lashing-down rain did not ease the stress we experienced on arriving at the Wallasey tunnel toll only to find that there's NOWHERE to tap your card or insert coins in ordre to pass - so the barrier stayed firmly down as I reversed back and pissed off everyone waiting behind the Merseyside toll booth amateur. Thankfully having hit the Help button, a nice man appeared with a card reader and we continue on our way without incident, and after quite a long wait, boarded the Stena line ferry, dumped our bags in our clean but very compact cabin, necked most of a bottle of red ("it'll help me sleep") and settled down for what was thankfully a calm crossing to Belfast, arriving bang on time at 6.30am and finding ourselves second off the boat and only 10 minutes from the city centre.
Monday 13 May
We parked up on what appeared to be a piece of waste ground on Donegal Street (but it was on the Ringo app, so I knew it should be ok!) and wandered around the immediate environs for about an hour before heading for the very right-on Neighbourhood Cafe for breakfast, where we met our friend Mark McIntosh who happened to be in the city on his way back from a short holiday in Corfu. My epic fail was to leave my showerproof Uniqlo jacket on the coat peg next to my front door in my rush to leave the house the previous day, so this necessitated a hasty purchase in favour of something rather more substantial than my flimsy cagoule. We sat for a while in the City Hall gardens before saying goodbye to Mark and saying hello to our cab tour driver Gary, who then took us on a personalised tour of the areas, murals and somewhat distressing memorials either side of the Peace Wall - though we soon realised that while he appeared to be quite non-partisan, his bias and take on the history of the city (unconscious or not) was definitely Unionist - something redressed when we visited Derry the next day.
We went to a chici cafe in the lovely Avoca store for lunch and then picked up the car to head off to the Giant's Causeway. By this time it was chucking it down with rain and it didn't stop all the way - unfortunately we also went a roundabout way so it took us a bit longer than expected. The GC was a place I'd always wanted to visit and despite the filthy weather, it didn't disappoint. It's like being on a different planet - we clambered about for a while on what looks like several packs of giant black cigarettes - mind was blown.
18000 steps later, we arrived at Violet House in Derry, a compact little terraced house which made use of every nook and cranny. It was really well equipped, clean and comfortable, so kind of a shame we were only there for the night. We drove to Sainsbury's to stock up on provisions for dinner and breakfast, and had an early night after a dismal failure to get the TV working....
Tuesday 14 May
Still raining... we drove into Derry, parked up and took a stroll on the Peace Bridge
followed by a wander round the lovely Guildhall with its beautiful polished wood and stained glass, and its tribute to John Hume, the Northern Irish Nobel Peace Prize winner.
We came across the Derry Girls mural (had to be done) and later on went to the Derry Girls Experience at the Tower Museum - where I bought my first fridge magnet of the trip, and yes it's of the DGs.
After coffee at the highly-recommended Synge & Byrne, we trudged around the city wall to go and see the Bogside Murals. Northern Irish history proves the economic and social injustices done to the Catholic population by Protestant settlers supported by the British crown - obviously the situation is complex, but the anger and bitterness of the Bogsiders is painfully palpable in these murals and our subsequent visit to the Free Derry museum, with its focus on Bloody Sunday left me with a lump in my throat at what those campaigning for justice for the innocent suffered.
A less harrowing visit to the Tower Museum to learn more about the history of Derry followed, then lunch back at Synge & Byrne. We looked into Dunnes Stores in the hope of seeing an interesting department store - it's like Primark, really don't bother if you come across one - you won't find anything to inspire you. We consoled ourselves with a gelato and then picked up the car to drive to Donegal - at last the rain had stopped.
At some point we crossed the border into the south - it was really only evident by a change in the road signs to km and this threw me into a bit of a panic as of course my speedo shows mph so I needed to get Neil to check a conversion chart to make sure I wasn't speeding! Apparently there's a way to convert my dashboard to km but we couldn't get it to work.
We arrived in Donegal town around 5pm and were greeted at our very basic and somewhat shabby accommodation by a very thin bald man who was very vague (he seemed surprised that we'd arrived!) but also twinkly and completely absent during breakfast and when we checked out next day. The rooms were clean and comfortable but very low on creature comforts and were probably last refurbished at some point in the 90s, with pillows of a similar age. I had a nice view of the River Eske from my room,
and I slept well after a substantial dinner at the Olde Castle Bar pub. There's not a huge amount to see and do in Donegal, but it's a good stop off point - and the people (and drivers) are very friendly!
Wednesday 15 May
So nice to be greeted by sunshine on waking. After breakfast we packed up the car (which has been giving me grief over its automatic locking and its refusal to change the speedo from mph to kph) and had a wander round the town and some of the shops, many of which sell tasteful tweedy merchandise and beautiful chunky knits to which I'm very drawn but my sensible side tells me will always be too warm for a London winter. Less chi-chi shops contain leprechaun, clover leaf and green-hued souvenirs and mementoes, many of which featuring Father Jack expletives exhorting me to Feck Off Ya Eejit and proudly proclaiming the owner as a Gobshite. I like.
After the purchase of a tacky kitty purse printed with a photo of....kitties - we strolled to the very small castle built and lost by Red Hugh O'Donnell - another Catholic victim of English Protestant colonisation who eventually fled to Spain for the remainder of his life. There's not much of it left but it's been sympathetically restored and is part ruin and part manor house and at only a few euros to visit is worth a look.
We wandered down to the quay with a coffee, saw a cormorant stretching its wings while perched on a buoy, then got in the car to drive to Sligo en route for our next overnight in Westport, Co Mayo. We spent a pleasant few hours dodging the showers - the cathedral is rather lovely with a plain interior and vaulted ceilings and notable stained glass (most of them purchased in memory of deceased parishoners). There's also a 12 stages of the cross series of wood carvings in relief placed around the perimeter, something I hadn't seen before.
WB Yeats is the big cheese in Sligo - unfortunately the little exhibit in an Arts & Crafts house where we could have found out more wasn't open, but we did see some lovely art there and also at The Model, an arts centre on The Mall, where we discovered the very fine Expressionitic work of his brother Jack Butler Yeats.
We also saw some thought-provoking video installations by Marianne Keating, drawing parallels between Ireland and Jamaica (we were reminded of the fact that thousands of Irish people became indentured plantation slaves in a wretched bid to escape poverty and famine in Ireland during the 19th century) and highlighting the struggle of the women's movement fighting for reproductive rights.
On a more trivial note, lots of lovely old shop fronts in Sligo. It's a pretty little town and was well worth the stopover.
We drove out of Sligo heading for Westport - drivers here seem to be very patient when you get in the wrong lane and reckless speeding doesn't seem to be an issue even when stuck behind a tractor - and we arrived at Clooneen House in the centre of town. Great value for money B&B, with friendly greetings repeated later that evening when we had a gin and a Guiness at the bar of the charming Grain Store pub, and a great fishy dinner at Sol Rio, both on the charming Bridge Street. Gorgeous little town.
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