House martins and swallows are always around, catching flying mayflies in the car park of Glencar Waterfall during a rainstorm, or diving from the roof of The Shandon Hotel above Marble Hill Strand beach in Donegal, where sand with a linen-like color flows into the gray-green sea.
It could have marked its 10th official birthday last year, but Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way has been utilized by generations of these small, chilly migratory birds, which travel from the Sahara to spend their summers in the UK and Ireland.
Moreover, they are aware of the Causeway Coastal Route in Northern Ireland as well.
Besides the 60 million-year-old natural geometric wonder known as Giant’s Causeway, this 120-mile rugged, enchanting coastline, beginning in Belfast and concluding in Derry – Londonderry, is frequently overlooked on road trips.
But no more.
As part of the Shared Island initiative, which “seeks to utilize the complete potential of the Good Friday Agreement to promote collaboration, connectivity, and shared understanding across the island,” Tourism Northern Ireland and Fáilte Ireland have joined forces to remind travelers that when you reach the end of the Wild Atlantic Way, the sea is far from finished, the cliffs don’t fade away, and the Guinness remains as plentiful as ever.
It’s feasible to complete both stretches, starting from Kinsale, Cork, then crossing the northern bend of the island to Belfast, over a period of three to four weeks. However, it’s remarkable how much you can experience in just a few days.
Even so, it would be very simple to remain in one place, no matter where you end up. For instance, Paul Cole from the Whitehead Community Association, a “blow-in” who relocated to the charming Victorian coastal town in the 1960s. He leads a relaxed e-bike tour along the Blackhead Coastal Path.
“You might be born and never depart, but you can’t be buried here,” he says in a foreboding manner (it’s a local joke, as there’s no cemetery), handing over a paper bakery bag containing Fifteens, a nostalgic snack consisting of 15 digestives, 15 marshmallows, 15 glazed cherries, and a can of condensed milk.
Paul is a strong advocate for Whitehead, where you can enjoy a cup of tea surrounded by large locomotives at the Whitehead Railway Museum and see house martins flutter in front of a row of houses along the promenade that are as vibrant and colorful as a fresh set of felt-tip markers.
He is heartbroken when we run out of time to pour a pint of Guinness at his local Irish bar, but there’s whiskey to be enjoyed at Northern Ireland’s first whiskey hotel, The Harbourview Hotel in Ballymena.
Covered in ivy of the same color as the striped throw cushions on the opulently quilted beds, it was once known as The Londonderry (the Marchioness of Londonderry constructed it in 1848), and was subsequently owned by Winston Churchill – they possess replicas of his rental records and property documents.
After rowing through large areas of seaweed and observing gannets diving headfirst near the shore at Carnlough Beach, I believed I was prepared to enjoy a glass of whiskey.
I should be, given the recent surge in Irish whiskey – in 2012, there were only four distilleries; now there are 54, but drinking it straight causes a burning sensation in my throat.
Adrian McLaughlin, our host and co-owner of The Harbourview, adds a drop of water to my glass: “The water beats the whiskey and says, ‘Bring out your flavors,'” he explains in a friendly manner, and it works—suddenly, it’s much more enjoyable to sip.
My taste buds are always pleased, no matter which part of the coast we’re visiting. The portions are huge, and the servings are plentiful.
At the Manor House on Rathlin Island (where Iolo Williams resided during the filming of this year’s Springwatch), the rich and irresistible lobster Thermidor is as vibrant red as the beaks of the puffins that float near the cliffs below Rathlin West Lighthouse.
There’s a little bit of rough seas,” says our captain as I attempt to focus my binoculars on the peculiar creatures. “You’ll be happy to know we don’t add extra for the rollercoaster portion of the journey.
At The Rusty Mackerel, a pub located at the base of Slieve League, Europe’s tallest reachable cliffs – which appear dramatically steep and filled with midges on a moist, humid day – serve a rich fish pie accompanied by a piece of brown bread, taking you back in time to autumn, when the scenery is covered in purple heather.
And at Willow and Lore, a “fire, feast and folklore experience,” we spread Irish butter on crackers and thick potato bread so generously that every bite leaves tooth marks.
No place is as delicious as Derry.
Similar to its Peace Bridge, which gracefully spans the River Foyle, designed like two hands reaching to greet, Derry – Londonderry serves as a bridge, meeting point for the Wild Atlantic Way and the Causeway Coastal Route.
A city-side tavern where you can enjoy a good meal and relax before smoothly continuing your journey in any direction you choose.
Hannah Ramraj from Derry By Fork leads us through a tour that definitely comes with a caution: don’t have breakfast first. The fiery, addictive Catanzaro sandwich – salame, ‘nduja with creamy cow’s milk cheese and jalapenos in lightly fried Tuscan schiacciata bread (sourced from Italian deli Salumeria Mariuccia, owned by Antonio Lovati), can keep you going for days.
But to skip a glass of Dopey Dick available on tap at Guildhall Taphouse – named after the orca that swam up the Foyle in 1977 – would be a shame.
Skipping the freshly made nachos at the Mexican street food spot Guapo is not an option, as there’s usually a long line outside. Even Claire Mankoo’s daughter is often in the queue. “I tell her she doesn’t need to, but it’s just part of the experience. I don’t know if they’re looking at the boys in line,” she says with a laugh.
Coffee is also essential, ideally from Terra Bakehouse, where zero waste is a core principle; any leftover milk from the coffee machine is repurposed to create ricotta.
I also managed to pour a pint of Guinness at O’Loughlin’s Irish Bar on Waterloo Street, near Peadar O’Donnell’s – a well-known place that, on the night we walk in, is full of people of all ages singing, dancing, and embracing – Paul would have liked it.
By the conclusion of a road journey, it’s common to become weary, tired of living out of a bag, carrying swimsuits and raincoats that never seem to completely dry.
A last swim in the ocean completely removes that sensation. In Mullaghmore, experienced surfers are pulled out to ride towering waves, but further along the coast is Strandhill, famous for gentle waves that are ideal for newcomers.
Nevertheless, it is also known for its strong undertow.
You are not permitted to swim, but there are three surf schools where you can get lessons. Our instructor, Zuhe Coronil, who owns the Atlantic Surf School, is also a newcomer. Born in Venezuela, his mother taught him to surf as a young child, and while traveling in Spain, he met an Irish couple who encouraged him to try surfing in Ireland.
“I came for six months and have been here for 12 years,” he says happily.
He has us extending our limbs and practicing our pop-ups – jumping from lying on the board to standing – before entering the waves.
He’s incredibly excited about the water, cheering every time I get up, offering creative advice such as, “Look up! You go where your eyes go,” and, “Think about your ex and paddle with anger.”
It drives me to rush back in, eager to improve this time, and the next, until my armpits hurt from lifting water and handling my board, and my face hurts from laughing wildly each time I catch a wave.
As we slowly return to the surf center, tired but full of energy and saltwater – very eager for the rich baked crab claws and charred sea bass covered in salsa verde at The Venue Bar and Restaurant – more house martins fly above, their wings as dark as our wetsuits.
Track the birds and the surfers, and you’ll likely be on the right path.
