So, one of the things I was most looking forward to seeing when visiting Northern Ireland was Giant's Causeway. It's so iconic and unique that I needed to experience it for real. And without sounding like too much of an oddball; I bloody love rocks! It amazes me when you get to see something that had been formed by millions of years of pressure and exposure. Basically it's just stuff that we find in the ground anywhere, and yet in some places it can be spectacularly beautiful.
On one of the less wet days I was there (I was visiting in August; I should've known to pack storm level wet weather gear), we headed up the coast to the causeway. Vicky assured me she knew of the best spot to park. The opening of a shiny, new visitor exhibition centre has meant that you can be charged about a tenner to see this natural phenomenon. That's right, a geographically renowned World Heritage Site is charging the public to walk on rocks that they have a right to walk on. I know, I know. Anyway, we were to bypass all the tearoom / gift shop hoopla. It is possible to park nearby and walk down to the beach without passing through the interactive exhibits. The only interaction I was after was to feel the sea air on my face as I scampered over the rocks in the footsteps of giants.
We decided not to pay for the privilege to be packed like sardines onto a bus down to the shore and instead walked the half-mile trek. As we rounded the final corner on the walk down the hill, the sight of the famous stones appeared. I say appeared, but it was difficult to see the actual stones as there were swarms of people covering almost every inch of hexagonal rock. I guess the fact that it was the summer holidays added to the popularity of the site. On one hand it was jarring to have to share my experience of this amazing natural phenomenon with so many others, but on the other, I was heartened to see so many people taking interest in the geography and history of the land.
To be fair, it added to the fun of the experience. One of the most rewarding things to do here is to scamper across the footsized plinths. You step from one to another, dodging the puddles and the slippery seaweed to get further and further. Without realising, you gain momentum and try to go quicker. You try to hit each stone only once to pick your way across the uneven terrain. The action took me back to childhood fun scrabbling across rock pools and climbing higher on overhanging cliffs. The added challenge was in sidestepping young toddlers crying and avoiding photobombing Japanese tourists.
My favourite stretch was up the North East coast, past the Glens. The road hugged the coastline so that you could smell the sea, and around every turn we would be presented with the archetypal vista of Ireland; rolling green hills, jagged rocks, sandy beaches, blue sea and white foam topping off the perfect view on the incoming waves. Most of the time we had the views to ourselves. Only the odd car passed us and when we stopped (which we frequently did to allow me to fully take in the magnificence of the landscape) there were very few other souls to be seen. I can recall one man walking his springer spaniel to whom we wished a good morning. I can't imagine any morning that starts with a walk along that coast could be anything but good. It was a stark contrast to the hordes of people at the Causeway, and maybe it's just my predisposition the hermitic lifestyle, but I know where I'd rather spend my time next time I visit Northern Ireland.
