Walking and hitch-hiking from Cork to Belfast
30 years ago
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| My route in 1988 |
July 1988. I was unattached again after a seven year relationship fizzled out and my life was at a turning point. I had not visited my grandparents and uncle in Ireland for many years and I felt that I really didn't know the country that I was born in. I am, and feel Irish, being born in Belfast but I moved back to France at just six weeks old and lived there for the next seventeen years.
Now at thirty one years old the plan was simple and minimal: take the ferry from Swansea in Wales to Cork then walk the west coast of Ireland and take the ferry home from Belfast three weeks later. I had the first day planned and a rucksack with a tent, sleeping bag, stove, maybe enough clothes and waterproofs. Even with good walking boots, carrying the 50 lb (22 Kg) rucksack was not going to be easy.
Now thirty years later, many things have changed as you would expect. I've been happily married for twenty six years with two beautiful daughters and my first granddaughter. Back in 1988 I had to make sure that I always had change for the phone box so that I could call home every few days, and GPS, mobile phones and the Internet where the stuff of science fiction. I still enjoy hiking as often as family life allows, although it's been a few years since I've been rock climbing. When I turned sixty last year, I realised that if I was going to do the remaining route from Galway north along the west coast of Ireland I'd better just do it.
The 1988 trip has left wonderful lasting memories which I will share with you in this blog from the notepad where I kept a diary of the trip, and the wonderful places and people that I met on the way. I set off on my own but I was seldom alone on the trip as there were usually other walkers going my way. The trip took me 950 Km (600 miles) around Ireland, walking and hitch-hiking, but also taking to time to enjoy the places I found myself.
I have some great notes to remind me of this trip and I will occasionally add a few memories when appropriate, but the rest of this blog will be taken directly from my notepad.
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| 1988 Diary |
I have some great notes to remind me of this trip and I will occasionally add a few memories when appropriate, but the rest of this blog will be taken directly from my notepad.
Sunday 10th July 1988 - Swansea to Cork ferry
Well, the trip's started in earnest now. I started the trip from Terry's in London at 2 PM where I stayed last night and left the car. I felt rather nervous putting on the rucksack and walking out the front door. I took the bus to Kings Cross station then the tube to Victoria bus station. I kept worrying about the time. I didn't want to miss the coach even though I had plenty of time.
The coach trip was rather uninspiring with rain most of the way. It didn't really feel as if I'd started this trip until we arrived in Swansea. My first impressions of the ferry port were of surprise. I suppose, being a Sunday it would be quiet but it looked desolated and empty. The one and a half hour wait at the ferry terminal was terribly frustrating. I wasn't getting anywhere!
Once aboard I was lost. What do I do now? Walk around, find a seat, drop off the rucksack, wonder around again... Nothing's open, I can't change any money to Irish Punts. Come on! This is boring again.
The ship eventually pulls out of harbour and I get even more nervous than I was this morning. What the hell am I doing? Why walk around in the rain for three weeks on my own? Because I decided to and I'll do it.
Anyway, we're underway and it's not too choppy yet. A pint of lager later and I'm starting to get used to the idea. I'm sitting in one of the numerous bars on board where a band is playing. More musac that music but what the hell it passes the time. It's a gorgeous evening and I'm starting to relax into it. I'm not sure where I'm going to sleep yet as I didn't book a bunk but if I hit the Guinness I shouldn't have any trouble.
Monday 11th - Clear Island
What a night last night! Talk about a rough crossing! It started off a bit choppy but between 2 and 3 AM we hit some really heavy weather. I thought that something was up when the crew started dishing out sick bags in the bar, and they were being used, where ever possible everywhere you looked. I really thought that the ship was going to topple over a few times. I was lying on the floor, hanging on and I wasn't the only one. I didn't get much sleep needless to say.
We arrived in Cork just an hour late and I took the bus into town from the harbour. Not a very inspiring place but after waiting for the banks to open, I changed some money and has some breakfast, which was an effort, then took the bus to Skibereen.
I got off at 12:30 and started the only walk that I had planned, to Baltimore. The rucksack didn't feel as heavy as I expected, but I was glad to put it down 3 hours later. I had another 3 hour wait for the ferry to Clear Ireland so I had my first taste of real Guinness. Not bad! I didn't know the protocol for pouring Guinness so I was a bit confused when the barman stopped filling up my pint when it was only 3/4 full, then put it down to start on someone else's. I assumed that the second pint must have been for a local and that this took precedence over serving an English tourist. I would soon appreciate the art of pouring a perfect pint of Guinness, having realised that it has to allowed to settle for a short while before topping it up. I'm not going to be able to touch the stuff back home now.
I met a couple of German guys, Owe and Marco, who are also going to the island. The ferry trip takes about 3/4 hour past Sherkin Island, all tiny coves, cliffs and caves.
The first thing that strikes you about this part of the country is the pace of life as demonstrated by having to wait 10 minutes while they pour your Guinness. Things happen as they happen, not late or anything, just at the right pace for the place.
The island is magnificent! You arrive at a tiny little harbour with just a few houses, a cafe, two pubs, a centre for the bird sanctuary and a craft shop. That's about it for the north harbour. It's only a 1/2 hour walk to the south harbour where the hostel is, with 2 or 3 other houses, This is a brilliant place to end up on my first day. If the pace of life gets any slower, it will be going backwards, and maybe that's just what I need right now. What a great place to relax.
It's actually Wednesday morning as I never got round to writing yesterday. I had a relaxing morning then went to explore the headland opposite in the afternoon, where I got caught in an amazing rain storm. The wind was really strong and the rain so heavy and blowing horizontally, that I was leaving a shadow in it when my back was to the wind. I was with Tom, Angela and Sheila from the hostel who had been making fun of my matching dark green waterproof jacked and trousers, or spacesuit as they called it. They weren't laughing later!
Fortunately we hadn't gone too far from the hostel and soon got back to shelter, along with a few "drowned rats" that had chosen to put up their tent in the campsite at the other side of the bay. On the way back we were checking that we couldn't actually get any wetter by jumping in every puddle we passed. Theory confirmed.
The warden, cook and receptionist at the hostel lit a fire which was soon virtually smothered in wet clothes. I settled in for a few games of cards for the rest of the afternoon, then walked back up the hill to the north harbour to see Angela and Sheila off on the evening ferry back to the mainland. On the way we were offered a lift in a car that had seen better days. You could actually see the road though the floor and perhaps seeing our surprise at the state of the car, the driver explained that when the rust caused by the frequent sea stray got too bad, the cars were taken to the east side of the island and pushed off the cliffs into the sea.
The pub at the top of the hill between the north and south harbours consisted of a single small packed bar that shared an entrance with the shop to it's left. I was worried that I'd arrived quite late around 10:30 PM but I was relieved that it was still open and busy. As expected, people started leaving between 11 PM and midnight, and I was thinking of finishing off my second pint of Guinness when some more people started to arrive. The bar was still serving, and they had a guitar. The flute player I'd met on the ferry also turned up a short while later and the evening turned into a spontaneous sing-along. Everyone had to take turns in singing, with or without the guitar, when called out. Some would tell a story and I scraped through on the guitar with "House of the Rising Sun". It was still going strong when I eventually left around 3:30 AM, which I thought was remarkable for a Monday night.
We arrived in Cork just an hour late and I took the bus into town from the harbour. Not a very inspiring place but after waiting for the banks to open, I changed some money and has some breakfast, which was an effort, then took the bus to Skibereen.
I got off at 12:30 and started the only walk that I had planned, to Baltimore. The rucksack didn't feel as heavy as I expected, but I was glad to put it down 3 hours later. I had another 3 hour wait for the ferry to Clear Ireland so I had my first taste of real Guinness. Not bad! I didn't know the protocol for pouring Guinness so I was a bit confused when the barman stopped filling up my pint when it was only 3/4 full, then put it down to start on someone else's. I assumed that the second pint must have been for a local and that this took precedence over serving an English tourist. I would soon appreciate the art of pouring a perfect pint of Guinness, having realised that it has to allowed to settle for a short while before topping it up. I'm not going to be able to touch the stuff back home now.
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| Ferry to Clear Island |
The first thing that strikes you about this part of the country is the pace of life as demonstrated by having to wait 10 minutes while they pour your Guinness. Things happen as they happen, not late or anything, just at the right pace for the place.
The island is magnificent! You arrive at a tiny little harbour with just a few houses, a cafe, two pubs, a centre for the bird sanctuary and a craft shop. That's about it for the north harbour. It's only a 1/2 hour walk to the south harbour where the hostel is, with 2 or 3 other houses, This is a brilliant place to end up on my first day. If the pace of life gets any slower, it will be going backwards, and maybe that's just what I need right now. What a great place to relax.
Tuesday 12th - Cape Clear
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| Cape Clear Hostel |
Fortunately we hadn't gone too far from the hostel and soon got back to shelter, along with a few "drowned rats" that had chosen to put up their tent in the campsite at the other side of the bay. On the way back we were checking that we couldn't actually get any wetter by jumping in every puddle we passed. Theory confirmed.
The warden, cook and receptionist at the hostel lit a fire which was soon virtually smothered in wet clothes. I settled in for a few games of cards for the rest of the afternoon, then walked back up the hill to the north harbour to see Angela and Sheila off on the evening ferry back to the mainland. On the way we were offered a lift in a car that had seen better days. You could actually see the road though the floor and perhaps seeing our surprise at the state of the car, the driver explained that when the rust caused by the frequent sea stray got too bad, the cars were taken to the east side of the island and pushed off the cliffs into the sea.
The pub at the top of the hill between the north and south harbours consisted of a single small packed bar that shared an entrance with the shop to it's left. I was worried that I'd arrived quite late around 10:30 PM but I was relieved that it was still open and busy. As expected, people started leaving between 11 PM and midnight, and I was thinking of finishing off my second pint of Guinness when some more people started to arrive. The bar was still serving, and they had a guitar. The flute player I'd met on the ferry also turned up a short while later and the evening turned into a spontaneous sing-along. Everyone had to take turns in singing, with or without the guitar, when called out. Some would tell a story and I scraped through on the guitar with "House of the Rising Sun". It was still going strong when I eventually left around 3:30 AM, which I thought was remarkable for a Monday night.
