Detour #138: Coasting around Northern Ireland
Photo Shutterstock
Simon Heptinstall hugs the coast of Northern Ireland and finds Narnia among its many treasures.
Excuse me for this burst of blatant blarney but I’ve just discovered one of Europe’s least known driving treasures… the coast of Northern Ireland.
If you’ve read the brilliant Detour roadtrips on The Mourne Mountains and the Causeway Coast you may have already got a hint that there’s plenty of spectacular roadway to be discovered in the North.
So in one of Mr Hertz’s finest diesel Renault Kadjars, I set out to drive the entire coastline of the six counties. Full of Celtic poetic inspiration, and rather lazy alliteration, I’d make those two smaller drives seem mere pin pricks on the Province’s perimeter.
My ulstimate (sic) Ulster undertaking started 40 miles south of Belfast airport, at Warrenpoint. It then continued around every wiggle and giggle on the map for 350 miles to Derry. To be sure, I wanted to be sure about the whole shore.
The verdict: it’s one of the great coastal drives. Yes the romantic, misty Mourne Mountains and the Causeway Coast of Antrim mentioned in those other detours are good bits… but there are tons of other great stretches all the way round.
I started at Carlingford Lough but immediately I was pulling over for the sake of Instagram. It’s easy to get ‘likes’ with those wide views across glistening oyster beds to the green hills of the Republic.
The leafy loughside village of Rostrevor got me in a ‘Quiet Man’ mood for the rest of the journey. Forget preconceptions about bombsites splattered with sectarian graffiti – scores of Rostrevor’s pastel-painted cottages are daubed with poetry quotes.
The cosy Rostrevor Inn has Seamus Heaney poetry across the façade, the house next door gets a line from C.S.Lewis, who was inspired to create his fairy-tale world of Narnia by the wooded glens leading into the mountains here.
Skip the sat-nav, use a map and stick to tiny lanes as close to the shore as you can. Skirting around the Mourne Mountains that means you are SO close I often used wipers to clear sea spray.
Further up the east coast’s little-known rural Lecale and Ards peninsulas, I pottered through a sequence of fishing villages with seafood cafes overlooking tiny ancient harbours and roadside farms selling freshly dug Irish potatoes, paid for in an honesty box.
My favourite stop was Ardglass where locals call their harbour ‘God’s Pocket’. From the coast road you can see how they squeeze 40 fishing boats around a conical brick tower in the middle that was a Victorian idea to give ladies privacy while bathing.
Car ferries are always exciting. The one across The Narrows at the mouth of huge Strangford Lough, the UK’s biggest inlet, often has the unique extra – classes of local schoolchildren taking turns riding to and fro, singing to drivers.
I was keen to continue the coast adventure so I whizzed round the U bend of Belfast Lough, the mighty Kadjar lurching through complexities of the capital’s dockside junctions.
Soon I was back on the proper coast road. To confuse tourists however, according to the brown roadside signs, the 25 miles of the Antrim Coast have now been amalgamated into something called the Causeway Coast, which is 120 miles long.
Whatever it’s called, the Antrim Coast is Northern Ireland’s most famous stretch, where the road gloriously sweeps around the curves of nine glens, or valleys, leading to the sea. It’s like a green-tinged Celtic version of the Amalfi coast. Guinness instead of Grigio.
The highlight of this bit is the Giant’s Causeway of course. A million a year visit the spectacular 60-million-year old volcanic landscape of hexagonal columns. They pay heftily to enter via the National Trust’s swanky visitor centre and café. An unrecorded handful meanwhile realise the actual public footpath skirts the NT edifice and they simply walk to the Causeway for free.
Beyond Bushmills and its historic distillery, the road passes the massive sand beaches of Ireland’s northeastern corner. The miles of roadside dunes here mean sand blows across the screen instead of spray. There was a blustery chill wind when I visit. I wonder if it’s ever warm enough to swim.
Instead I warmed my feet in front of a crackling pub fire at remote Magilligan’s Point at the mouth of Lough Foyle. Alongside you can drive right up to a Martello Tower, still protecting the wide sandy panorama from a French invasion that never came.
Lovers of quirky detours will appreciate the coast road’s finale. First, the road leads over the very unusual double-decker Craigavon Bridge – with one road carriageway stacked on top of the other.
Then the route to my hotel squeezed through the ancient and narrow Bishops Gate, presumably designed for a horse and cart, not a bloated 21st-century crossover.
Nevermind, this Georgian landmark is a triumphant archway celebrating something heroic done back in the 17th century. Today the narrow opening allows you to drive right into the old walled city – and makes you feel like you deserve your own little triumphant hooley for completing such a brilliant coastal motoring marathon.
Words Simon Heptinstall Twitter | Instagram
Photography Shutterstock
