Bushmills to Belfast on the Antrim Coast

By the next morning the storm had passed through and the rain had stopped, the sun was out and burning, the mercury was urgently rising and the watery puddles were steaming.

Today we were driving the final section of the Causeway Coast and after turning south the even more picturesque Antrim Coast was laid out before us which goes all the way to Belfast and our final destination.

Three quarters of the four hundred miles of Northern Ireland coast are protected areas and as we made the next section of the journey it was easy to understand why.  Although the sun was shining brightly it was still quite cool and I suppose that the unpredictable weather is a bonus here because if Northern Ireland had the climate of the Spanish Costas then it wouldn’t be long before they were covered in sun loungers and the shoreline would be overrun with pedalos and water sports.

We stopped first at the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge.  The travel guides make this sound like a death defying challenge to cross a swaying adventure with only irregular wooden steps and rotting rope handles to separate the brave visitor from certain death on the jagged rocks below followed by a swirling watery grave as the unpredictable currents carry a shattered and broken body out into the turbulent sea.

The truth is that this is not nearly so exciting as is made out and there is no Indiana Jones sort of danger whatsoever and visitors cross over the twenty metre bridge as though on a pedestrian crossing on any town centre High Street and make their way to the rather disappointing final destination on the walk.  It is as safe as being on a cycle path in the Netherlands, as safe as a bubble-wrapped Amazon parcel delivery!

Samuel Johnson is reported to have said the the Giant’s Causeway was worth seeing but not worth going to see and whilst I would take issue with him over that I think his assessment could easily be applied to Carrick-a-Rede!

If the bridge is a disappointment (especially having paid £6 each for the privilege) the coastal walks are not and the thirty minute walk there and back from the inevitable National Trust centre and souvenir shop provided splendid views along the rocky coast in both directions and today with the sun shining we could almost make out people waving to us from Scotland.

We were in the far north east now and these stretches of the road regularly appear in top ten lists of drives in the UK. 

It only ever really makes it to number two in a list of coastal drives in Ireland however, coming in behind the Dingle peninsular and having driven that previously I have to say that I am inclined to agree with that judgement.  In my opinion it is better than the Ring of Kerry by some considerable way.  

It isn’t exactly the Amalfi drive, nothing can hope to compare with the Amalfi drive but it is well worth making the effort to get behind the wheel of a car and experience this wonderful part of the United Kingdom.

Along this stretch of north east Ireland runs the A2 road which is said to be the longest stretch of principal highway in the UK which clings so closely barnacle like to the sea.

The road here adheres like Velcro to the base of the cliffs and swings around the headlands and bays in extravagant sweeps and roller-coaster twists and turns.  To the west were the glens of County Antrim decorated with dainty wild flowers and rolling gently down to the coastline and to our left was the Irish Sea and just twenty miles or so away the coast of nearby Scotland.

Along the route the road is flanked by gnarled hawthorn trees standing stoically alone by the roadside, it is, I later learn, because the locals are reluctant to cut them down for fear of disturbing the little people.  Shades of Iceland here and the Huldofolk.

County Antrim is one of the staunchest Protestant and Loyalist parts of Northern Ireland and we were left in no doubt about that as we drove through villages where the kerb stones and the lampposts were painted red, white and blue and a Union flag flew above the front door of almost every house.  Until that is we came to Cushendun, a harbour village abandoned by the A2 road and which is a catholic enclave emblazoned with green, white and orange.

The going was slow because we stopped several times to admire the beaches and the uninterrupted views and by mid morning we had only covered a few miles south when we stopped for coffee at the walled garden of Glenarm.  It was a charming place but there was no time to stop longer than a coffee and a cake  and soon we were back on the road.  I declined the refreshment break for reasons previously stated. 

Next stop was the Gobbins coastal adventure walk…