The Customs House on the River Liffey in Dublin.
We got up after a short night of sleep to another busy day. Today's adventure would take us from Bettystown to Dublin to Belfast to Scotland. I was hoping to end up in Glasgow; but, I was a little wary of all the train travelling we had to do. We were going to be landing in Stranraer, where train service is rather infrequent. We basically had to be in Stranraer by 7 p.m. in order to catch the last train to Glasgow. If we caught the 5:10 ferry from Belfast, we'd get to Stranraer at around 6:45. That wasn't much of a cushion. But, our luck had been good up until to that point. So, I was hopeful that the day would turn out.
We headed down to breakfast with the other residents of the B&B. It was at the breakfast table that we heard the horror stories of trying to visit Newgrange. It seemed that most of them had seen it the day before. However, all of them had to wait for the buses to take them to the site. The shortest wait experienced by any of the other guests was an hour and a half. The longest wait was four hours. Needless to say, I was getting pretty nervous about these long waits. A wait of that duration would seriously impact our chances of making Glasgow by that evening. So, we decided to quickly pack and immediately take off to Newgrange. I finished the last few bites of toast that I had (I had avoided "the full fry" again), and got ready to go.
We got to Newgrange just before the visitor's center opened at 9 a.m. There were only four other people ahead of us waiting to get in. We bought our tickets, toured the visitor's center, and then boarded a bus for the tomb itself. After touring the tomb, we headed back to the visitor's center. It was just before 11 a.m. when we departed for Dublin Airport to drop off the car.
The trip to Dublin Airport was uneventful. We dropped the car off at one of the Airport's hotels. The hotel had a free shuttle bus to the airport's main terminal. We took advantage of this service and got to the main terminal a little after noon. There, we boarded a Dublin City Bus which travels between the airport and Connelly train station. The cost of the trip was IŁ3. It probably wouldn't have taken very long except for the fact that traffic around the airport was stalled because a maintenance worker had accidently cut a gas line. We ended up sitting in traffic for a half-hour. When we finally arrived at Connelly Station, it was 1:10 p.m. The train to Belfast had left at 1 p.m. The next train to Belfast wasn't until 3:30 p.m.
Well, the plan had been shot. There was no way to get to Belfast in time for the boat to Stranraer. Which meant that there was no way to get to Glasgow that evening. I was just glad that we didn't have any accommodation reservations in Glasgow. Of course, we didn't have reservations anywhere. But, that was a condition to which I was accustomed. So, we spent the time before the next train to Belfast eating in the train station's restaurant and looking up places to stay in Stranraer. I also took some time to wander down the street to get a few pictures of the Customs House. I got back just in time to board the train for Belfast.
There are a lot of images that come to mind when one says Belfast and Northern Ireland. Most of those involve guns and bombs. I have to say those images were in my mind before I went there. In fact, I was expecting some sort of fence at the border signifying that this was dangerous territory. But, that never happened. From the train, one cannot tell when one has left the Republic of Ireland and entered Northern Ireland. The green, mountainous landscape is seamless. It's only when one enters the towns that one realizes that you are in a different place than where you were before. The first place the train stopped in the North was Portadown, which happened to be the site of a rather dramatic confrontation between the Oranges (Protestants) and Greens (Catholics) over marching rights just a few weeks before. Here was my first exposure to the barbed wire around the housing blocks and the "IRA Forever" graffiti. Once we left Portadown, everything looked normal. I even saw children and parents playing in a park just about halfway between Portadown and Belfast. They looked no different than any other children and parents playing anywhere else in Ireland. But, the tension reappeared when we arrived in Belfast. The barbed wire and graffiti were back. Yet, it wasn't as tense as I thought it might be. The train station was a lot more relaxed than I'd expected. There was no customs desk to visit, even though technically we had crossed into another country. I thought I would be subjected to one of the cavity searches for which the British are famous. But, there was nothing more than a glance at my train ticket from a policeman. I'll be the first to admit that I didn't spend much time in Belfast. But, my initial reaction was that, for the most part, Belfast was just another average large British city.
That isn't to say that we didn't have a personal exposure to the religious and political nerves of the area. We took a taxi from the train station to the port. When we arrived, my friend pulled out some Punts to pay the bill. "Sorry.", said the taxi driver. "I'll need Pounds." "Oh, my mistake.", my friend said. "I still think I'm in Ireland." The taxi driver replied, "You are in Ireland. But here, we take Pounds." It was a not-so-subtle reminder that the tensions that have made the area infamous are still alive and well.
Since we had missed the 5:10 boat for Stranraer, we had two choices facing us. We could take the "slow boat" at 7:45 p.m. and arrive in Stranraer at 11:00 p.m. Or we could get on the "fast boat" at 10:00 p.m. and arrive in Stranraer just after 11:30 p.m. We went for the slow boat. It actually turned out to be a good choice. One can walk around the exterior of the slow boat, whereas you can't do that on the fast boat. Plus, there are most of the amenities of the fast boat on the slow boat. So, it was a good way to relax for a while.
We pulled out of Belfast Harbor right on time. Our Irish adventure had come to an end. I stood at the railing of the stern and watched the port and, eventually, the coastline of Ireland fade away into the horizon. Somehow, it felt right to be departing Ireland by boat. It made me feel a kinship with the millions of Irish that had departed this beautiful place to somewhere else. Of course, I was just going on to another leg of my vacation. Most of them were departing for another life in another country. But, I felt some of the sadness that they must have felt as they saw the shores slip away. The tour guides on the buses in Dublin said that everyone has a little Irish in them. Standing on the rail of that ship watching Ireland disappear, I realized what they meant.
After about three hours, the coastline of Scotland appeared. The sight
of the lights of Stranraer from the water was spectacular. We got into port
right on time. After a short taxi ride, we arrived at our destination, the
Jan-Da-Mar Guest House. The Guest House is owned by Bill Campbell. He's
a retired military officer who invested his pension into a B&B.
Now, he and his wife share experiences with people from all over the world.
You can really tell that Bill loves what he is doing. His enthusiasm is
infectious. Since he had guests coming in on the fast boat, he killed an
hour asking us about our trip and telling us about his life. I think I would've
enjoyed it more had I not been so tired. But, it was still fun. When he
left to greet his other guests, we promptly fell asleep.
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