After being disturbed in the night by Karen not being able to sleep and playing with her phone at 2am, we were still down for breakfast by 8am for another veritable feast. I even attempted to make myself a sausage bap for my lunch later. It turned out to be a bit of a disaster as the bap was quite dry and was really meant for toasting, which served me right.
As we had ‘done’ Belfast City Centre yesterday, today I had booked us onto a bus tour along the Causeway route, stopping at, hopefully, a few Bally interesting places.
It was a brisk 10-minute walk to the meeting point. Kevin’s eyebrows were raised as we realised the coach stop was just inside a strong loyalist area, meaning we had to walk under one of their arches and along the red, white and blue painted kerbstones.
The coach was waiting. I managed to bag a seat with nobody next to me, whilst Karen and Kevin were next to each other two rows back.
Marty, the coach driver, was way past retirement age but seemed amiable enough over the microphone, providing information about the places we were passing.
The first stop was only 25 minutes into the day at Carrickfergus Castle, which was really just a toilet stop as there was no time to actually enter the castle itself. If we had been driving, of course, it would have been our choice, but the coach company had made the choice for us.
We were given the time to be back on board and, of course, one bally nuisance couple ignored it. Ten minutes late, they arrived with freshly brewed coffee in their hands that they had been queuing for, as if it should be a privilege for the rest of the coach to wait for them.
This is the second of many reasons I dislike coach tours.
It was then a good two-hour drive along the extremely picturesque Causeway Coast to the next brief stop. This was a viewpoint overlooking the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge, somewhere I had wanted to visit on our previous trip but couldn’t, as it was undergoing extensive repairs. I didn’t realise that this tour only stopped to look at it, as coaches are not allowed down the road to the car park.
I seem to be destined never to be able to get down to it and walk over it.
Nevertheless, the views from the clifftop were exceptional. We could clearly see the Mull of Kintyre and also the Ayrshire coastline. Rathlin Island was also clearly visible, but not clearly enough to make out any puffins.
We drove on to the lunch stop, which brings me to the third of my reasons for disliking coach trips. We had no choice about where or when to stop, and it was clear that the driver was on a kickback for everyone he could get into the restaurant to buy the overpriced buffet. We were given cards to hand in which would get us a ‘discount’ and, as they had his name written on them, presumably prompting a cash payment or credit to him.
As the hotel was at the site of the ‘Dark Hedges’, I reasoned correctly that there would be another option for food and drink, which conveniently there was. We found ‘The Pantry’ and bought drinks and snacks there instead, which was much more to our liking.
In fact, I had a large piece of what was called a Raspberry Coconut Slice and, in reality, was a homemade slab of a big Ruffles bar. This was always one of my childhood favourites and was delicious. Karen was not impressed when I said that eating it was worth coming on the tour for this on its own.
We walked to see the ‘Dark Hedges’, a row of crooked, interlocking trees featured in Game of Thrones. It meant nothing to me, but lots to some people, who got very excited by them.
At the end of the day, they were just trees.
The penultimate stop was Bushmills Distillery, which, as the driver kept repeating, was the largest in the world. None of us are whiskey drinkers, but it was an interesting 30-minute stop, even if we didn’t do a tasting or buy anything.
Finally, we arrived at the Giant’s Causeway, the main reason for the tour.
It was busy. We chose to walk the 15 minutes down one bay and around another to the basalt columns. Last time we were here it was wet and the rocks were very slippery to walk upon. This time they were covered with people and, even though they were dry, we were all of an age where scrambling too far or too high just seemed to shout ‘danger’ to us.
So we kept to some of the closer ones to the path.
They are undoubtedly a real freak of nature and need to be seen and preserved. However, I still think they look better from above or out at sea, rather than at ground level, as you cannot get a really good overall view of them. We were all glad we had been able to see them.
It was then time to get back to the visitor centre. This was a daunting walk and climb. There was a shuttle bus option, but we thought we should walk it, at our own pace and with a stop along the way.
I wouldn’t say it was easy, but we made it, and I was especially proud of Karen for doing so.
We thought we had deserved a drink in the visitor centre café and so treated ourselves before heading back to get on the coach.
The drive back was quicker, as the driver took the faster route, but it still took 75 minutes. The driver played some traditional Irish music on the way back, which is the fourth of my dislikes of a coach tour.
The driver inevitably has a very poor taste in music, which I cannot do anything about.
Once we had got off the coach for the last time, we decided to have a drink and get some food whilst we were out before heading back to the hotel. I chose Lavery’s, which is Belfast’s oldest family-run pub. It is like many Irish pubs, set over several floors, but we stayed on the ground floor which itself seemed to include several performing stages. We were asked if we were here for the Fleadh and they almost disappointed when we replied with the negative.
After having a drink, Karen decided, after checking their hygiene rating, that the food choices were good enough to suit her. I had the homemade burger, whilst Karen and Kevin both went for the fish and chips.
My burger was not bad. The fish, when it arrived, though, was flipping enormous and Karen was very happy with her choice.
Out of the corner of my eye, when we were eating, I thought to myself that one part of Karen’s fish didn’t look as though it was fully cooked as she was tucking into it.
Karen is very particular about things being fully cooked and, if she thinks there is any likelihood of anything not being fully cooked, then she doesn’t eat it. I kept quiet, as I thought she knew best for herself, and thought nothing more of it. You will have to read the next blog to find out if you are right in your suspicions as to what happened afterwards.
We had one more drink for the road before heading back to the hotel for the night, where we made a welcome hot decaffeinated drink before retiring for the night.
