Day 11: Inverness to Belfast

Day 11: Inverness to Belfast

It's truly wonderful how seamless our travels have been thus far. We have been blessed with good weather and our bookings for lodging, car and plane have gone off without a hitch. We got to Belfast early and after getting our rental car, headed directly to Bushmills (it's a town not just a distillery) where we would meet our bus to the Giant's Causeway.

The Giant's Causeway is a natural formation of hexagonal stones formed by an ancient volcanic eruption. These stones form a walkway that jet into the sea on the coast of Northern Ireland. The day was gorgeous and the weather was perfect. Rob and I walked past the walkway until the path ended due to erosion. We climbed up on a grassy slope and while sharing a beer enjoyed the tall stone pillars of rock that formed the surrounding canyon walls. We wondered about he birds as they soared toward the top of the canyon and then just before they appeared to be landing would freeze in mid air and turn back into what looked like a free fall and then repeat this maneuver. It was amazing.

We got back to Belfast and checked into our room. Our hosts warned us that it was the eve of the 12th of July and that bonfires would be lit across Belfast to commemorate the Protestant's victory over the Catholic's at the Battle of the Boyne over 300 years ago. Earlier in the day when we were getting our car, the rental agent mentioned the holiday and the fires in passing. When I had asked him the reason for the party he just said, "Well, it's a long story." You said it Mr. Budget rental car guy.

When we found out that Belfast is home to the most bombed hotel in Europe, we knew we had to go there to have dinner in their restaurant. Downtown Belfast felt strange but not in a good way. Rob thought it wasn't a good sign when every guy, "looks like he could kick my ass." Our meal was good but the maitre d' said it would be best to be home or at least off the streets before 11 because things could get troublesome. Rob and I headed out of the hotel after having read the history of the many times it had gotten blown up, which was highlighted on the spiral staircase leading to the piano bar. Outside, Rob was taking my picture and I sensed something approaching me. It was a car driving very fast into the hotel driveway. In that instant all I could think was, "So, this is how it ends. All of those stories I heard of the IRA when I was a child and how I should never, ever, ever go to Belfast; was going to end in some pissed off, partying Protestant running me down in front of a hotel infamous for death and dismemberment. Great." The car stopped short of me and both the driver and his passengers erupted into laughter. Rob thought it was funny too. I guess my Catholic roots are not accustomed to Protestant humor.

Rob and I walked down to the five story stack of wooden pallets that would be the fuel for the bonfire that would start later on around midnight. We took some pictures of it and and some pretty cool graffiti and decided it was time to make our exit. By the time we were back in the neighborhood we were staying in there was a large fire already burning on the street adjacent to us. Of course we had to investigate. We walked past a a bar called, "The Raven Social Club" and outside were several men, two in bright orange shirts. They were having a smoke and spoke in a loud, almost unintelligible brogue and yes they looked like they could kick Rob's ass. 

Across the street near a metal fence used to separate the neighborhood (you know in case of disruptions like throwing bottles and rocks at your neighbor) the fire was about three stories tall and the fire department was working to extinguish it. There was a creepy sense of festivity as families gathered in the street to watch as the fire almost engulfed what appeared to be a Catholic charity thrift shop. It was time to go home. 

The next morning Rob and I were both glad to be leaving Belfast and as always, our exit was seamless.