The Gentle Giant

When was the last time I shook with excitement, I struggle to remember as I strain my eyes through the view finder to spot a rope bridge over a chasm.

Standing on northern Ireland’s gorgeous antrim coastline, with the very blue north atlantic Ocean spread out before the eyes, it’s impossible to not tremble. The wind, strong enough to send a digicam flying from your hands, ensures you do. And if you are as excited as I am, then I suggest you don’t remove the camera from your neck. A september morning is almost always windy and rainy in this part of the world and I get only a glimpse of the famous Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, built by salmon fishermen over a chasm that is 30m deep and 20m wide. If you’re lucky, you get to walk the bridge and some daredevils even choose to get married on it. Well, this is not the first time that weather has gone against my plans.

Driving along the coastline, we make several stops before we arrive at Bushmills Inn, near the Old Bushmills Distillery, the oldest whiskey distillery on the planet. On a chilly day, nothing can be more soulsatisfying than a hot drink. At Bushmills Inn, it is what they call the Hot Bush—warm whiskey with cinnamon, cloves and lemon rind. Carrick-a Rede fades in my mind as Hot Bush works its soothing magic on me. I ask for refills as I work my way through an enormous helping of the good ol’ Fish and Chips, served with excellent mustard and crispy fries. Conversation centres around the next attraction on the day’s itinerary—the rock formations at the Giant’s Causeway, a Unesco world heritage site. And there’s a reason why most tourists stop at Bushmills for lunch before heading there: the wind. You do need the warmth before being lashed and if there’s pelting rain, then you need to keep a hip flask handy. But I don’t have one so I order Irish Coffee before the coach rolls out. Laced with the smooth whiskey, it makes me feel like I am ready to take on a twister.

“When the world was moulded and fashioned out of formless chaos, this must have been the bit over—a remnant of chaos.” That’s what author william Makepeace thackeray had to say about the Causeway. One look at the rock formations and you would think that no one but a giant could have created them. The legend goes that a giant called Finn McCool built the Causeway for his lover, she-giant staffa, so she could walk across from her home in the hebrides. The coach takes us down a narrow coastal road to the windswept world heritage site and it’s a struggle to keep my balance as I disembark.

I manage to climb up to a point from where I can see the basalt columns packed together. The entire landscape is like the studio of an absent-minded sculptor. With rocks here and rocks there—some of them with names like Giant’s Granny, honeycomb and wishing well—and the restless waters in the background, the Causeway entices you to sit and watch the hours go by. In this case, we have only an hour. Soaked to the skin, we climb back into the coach. The dry wit of northern Ireland, courtesy the tour guide andrew Beggs, helps us forget that we are in wet clothes. Laughter and limericks keep us busy as we drive past pastoral landscapes to Upperlands, a village more than an hour by road from the Causeway. The quaint ardtara house, a country mansion, is home for the night.

My room overlooks a pretty lawn with white chairs and tables. I turn on the fire, more for the experience than warmth, and sit on the window ledge with a hot cuppa. At this point, Daryll, the most beautiful man I had seen in a long time, breaks my reverie. He carts my strolley bags into the room and leaves with a smile that makes me go weak in the knees. “Watch out for the whiskey and the men in northern Ireland”—my friend’s voice rings clear in the head. I pull out the best clothes I have packed and dress up for dinner. Over an excellent pumpkin soup, duck breast and a killer chocolate mousse, I watch Daryll as he goes around attending to diners. I stay back for coffee, attempting conversation with the smiling, reticent man.

I wake up to cloudy skies and more rain. It’s time to move on to Belfast, the capital of northern Ireland, and there’s no Daryll in sight as I struggle to bring my bags down the wooden staircase. Two hours later, I find myself standing before a colourful wall. Che Guevara, IRa members, Margaret thatcher, Palestinians and faces from other parts of the world stare back at me. I am at the Peace wall, which was built to separate Catholic and Protestant neighbourhoods. Once europe’s most bombed city, Belfast has many such walls. While most of them are covered by murals and slogans, the Peace wall stands out for its lifelike depictions. Andrew points out to man who is drawing on one corner of the wall. A former IRA member, many like him spend mornings making graffitis and their evenings in a bar. Belfast has come a long way from its bomb-andbullet days. Though the Victorian architecture largely remains, hip hotels, trendy restaurants, swanky malls and nightclubs are turning it into a party town. Belfast, till recently, had the highest number of BMws in Britain. The city is also big on boutique hotels and I am happy that we too are staying at one.

I am tempted to spend the afternoon in the black tub but Belfast’s big attraction is next on the itinerary. So off I go to the shipyard where RMS titanic was built. “Built in Belfast. Sunk by an englishman. She was all right when she left here.” That’s what almost every second person in Belfast gives you by way of introduction to the titanic saga. Changing the Belfast skyline is a new building, in the shape of two hulls, coming up at the titanic Quarter. Due to open on the 100th anniversary of the sinking next year, titanic Belfast will have nine galleries telling the story of the ship from birth to death.

For the time being, you can tour the dry dock where the ship was kept and the office of harland & wolff, the builders. I spend an hour reading letters from the company to the bereaved, studying the company’s duty register for the labourers (down to the minutest details of number of tea breaks taken in one working day) and family history of some passengers.

I plan an evening out at Crown Bar, arguably the most atmospheric in town. A short walk from the acclaimed Deanes Deli, where we dine that night, peals of Guinnessinduced laughter greet us as we walk into Crown’s. We find only a stool next to the red-top granite bar. But that doesn’t bother us. The Guinness flows smooth and fast and, before we know it, our only night in Belfast comes to a close.

At A Glance

Getting there

Fly Delhi/Mumbai-london on British airways. From Heathrow, take an aer lingus flight to Belfast. Fare: 45,000 approx

When To Go

Avoid the winter. But remember that Northern Ireland is cold through the year so be prepared for wild winds and rain.

MUST DO

Stay

Upperlands: Ardtara Country House; tel: +44 (0) 28796 44490;

Belfast: Ten Square Hotel, Donnegall Square South;tel: +44 (0) 28 90 241 001; www.tensquare.co.uk

Eat

The Ulster breakfast with black and white puddings.

Shop

Pick up whiskey marmalade and oat cakes from Ditty’s Home Bakery in castledawson, Upperlands.

See

Drive down to Merlough Bay on the antrim coastline.