Northern Ireland: From Troubles to Trails – Rathlin Island, Dark Hedges and an Unexpected Detour

The time had come to leave Belfast behind and finally start walking. That had been the real purpose of this trip all along. It was Sunday, 17 May, which is of course a major national holiday in Norway. Here, however, nobody seemed to have the slightest idea, and that was perfectly fine by me.

I had planned a fairly ambitious day. The goal was to make some real progress away from Belfast while also stopping at a couple of places I wanted to visit along the way. To make it all work, my AI companion and I had carefully assembled a plan involving train schedules, bus connections, and perfectly timed stops.

What could possibly go wrong?

There is a train line running from Belfast to Larne, and both of my planned stops were along that route.

My first stop was Carrickfergus Castle.

It was early on a Sunday morning, and there was hardly a soul around. The grey skies certainly did not encourage people outdoors. Fortunately, the castle opened early, giving me plenty of time to explore both the interior and the grounds.

It is an exceptionally well-preserved castle with excellent displays throughout. I thoroughly enjoyed the visit, although I have to admit that some of the more dramatic ruins I would encounter later on the trip made an even stronger impression.

Afterwards, I returned to the station and continued to Whitehead.

Whitehead is a colourful little village with all the familiar charm one associates with the British seaside. The village itself was not my main objective, however.

That honour belonged to Blackhead Lighthouse.

Perched on a headland overlooking the sea, it occupies a wonderful location. The lighthouse itself is not particularly large or dramatic, but the walk around the headland is excellent, with plenty of steps both up and down and fine views in every direction.

By now the sun had appeared.

I also discovered that I was no longer the only person outdoors.

After completing the walk, I returned to Whitehead for a coffee before continuing my journey.

So far, so good.

What my AI friend had failed to notice was that 17 May happened to be a Sunday.

The train continued to Larne, where I intended to catch a bus along the coast to my accommodation.

There was only one problem.

No buses were running.

A taxi was an option, of course, but that is usually my last resort.

Being the optimist that I am, I decided I might try hitchhiking instead.

I walked out of Larne and attempted to flag down a few cars, but traffic moved quickly and arrived in clusters. It did not feel particularly safe.

Soon the houses disappeared.

Then the pavements disappeared.

And it became very clear that rural Northern Ireland is not designed with pedestrians in mind.

There is no shoulder at all on many of these roads. I walked facing the oncoming traffic and repeatedly found myself stepping into bushes and hedges whenever vehicles approached.

Having abandoned the idea of hitchhiking, I simply kept walking.

After roughly two hours, I reached Ballygally Castle Hotel.

I went inside and asked whether they could arrange a taxi.

They could.

The taxi would arrive three hours later.

So I ordered an early dinner and made myself comfortable.

As it turned out, I was extremely lucky.

Not long afterwards, heavy rain began hammering down outside while I sat safely indoors.

That evening I eventually reached my bed and breakfast in Cushendall.

The owners ran a cattle farm, and the following morning I found myself helping them after several bulls had escaped from their enclosure.

To be fair, the bulls seemed more interested in making friends than escaping. Whenever I walked past, they came running over to investigate.

The following day would be my final bus journey for quite some time.

From this point onwards, I would be travelling mostly on foot.

I arrived early in Ballycastle, which is really where Northern Ireland’s most dramatic coastline begins.

Since I was also spending the night there, I needed something to do.

Just offshore lies Rathlin Island, the only inhabited island in Northern Ireland.

Ferries run regularly, but they are popular enough that booking ahead is normally recommended.

Being optimistic as usual, I simply turned up at the harbour without a reservation.

For once, it worked.

I managed to secure a place on the second sailing of the day.

I had already read about the upside-down lighthouse on the western side of the island and the large seabird colonies nearby.

When the shuttle bus failed to materialise after our arrival, I simply started walking.

The journey to the lighthouse takes around ninety minutes each way.

That hardly sounded like a problem.

Since I had already booked a place on the last ferry back, I had roughly four hours available.

The road wound gently across the treeless island, rising and falling through open countryside.

Long before I reached the cliffs, I could hear the birds.

At first it was little more than distant background noise.

Then it grew louder and louder.

By the time the cliffs came into view, they seemed almost alive.

Thousands upon thousands of seabirds occupied the ledges and offshore stacks.

It was fascinating to watch.

Rathlin West Lighthouse is famous because the lantern sits at the base of the cliff rather than on top.

Visitors enter at the upper level and walk down towards the light itself.

Seen from a drone, the lighthouse looks remarkably unusual.

From ground level, it is perhaps less dramatic, but still worth the effort.

Eventually it was time to return to the harbour, and I made it back with plenty of time to spare.

The lighthouse would continue to accompany me over the following days.

As I walked the mainland coast, the small white speck on the western side of Rathlin was often visible in the distance.

The following morning I decided on a short detour inland.

I have never watched Game of Thrones, so The Dark Hedges held no particular sentimental value for me.

Still, I had seen photographs of the place, and I do enjoy unusual photographic experiences.

Getting there by public transport is not particularly easy, so I took a taxi in order to arrive before any tour buses.

And I am glad I did.

Walking beneath the trees completely alone was surprisingly magical.

At first the avenue was dark and almost mysterious.

Then shafts of sunlight began filtering through the branches.

For a brief moment, it felt exactly like the sort of place that belongs in a fantasy novel.

Afterwards, I walked the two hours back to my accommodation along the usual narrow country roads, although traffic was thankfully light.

The first days on the road had already delivered castles, lighthouses, runaway bulls, seabird cliffs, and an unplanned march along roads with no pavements.

Yet the landscapes that had convinced me to visit Northern Ireland in the first place still lay ahead.

The great cliffs.

The long beaches.

And the coastal trail that had started this entire adventure.