I had been fascinated with Derry long before Derry Girls hooked me in – its role during the troubles and what happened there, its proximity to the republic and its ancient walls had all made me want to visit for a long time, The Derry Girls remark that all tourists want to do when they come to  Northern Ireland is visit the Giant’s Causeway. Predictably that’s where we were headed after we picked up the hire car. We left off the first part of the tourist coastal loop in order to spend some time walking around Derry in the afternoon. We headed up one of the freeways and  pulled off to visit the Dark Hedges, which to be honest were a bit of a letdown and probably dreamed up as a tourist attraction to make sure all of the tour buses didn’t end up at the Giant’s Causeway all at once. You had to pay for parking and then walk quite a way to essentially walk up a road where the gnarled century old trees have joined across the road to make an arch. As that happens in my street at home (with 70 year old trees) it didn’t seem that spectacular. Admittedly, we visited in winter when there was no foliage but it wasn’t worth the 10 pound parking fee. And I can’t for the life of me understand why there is a hotel here and why they need acres of parking for buses.

From here we let Google direct us and we saw a few back country roads and lanes before we connected up with the main tourist drive taking us on to Dunseverick Castle, our first castle in Ireland. Or not. Three laps around the very small parking area on the edge of a village amounted to naught so we decided to keep heading towards Giant’s causeway. Parking there, unless you want to pay extra for the Causeway experience, is around a kilometre’s walk to the causeway and then a bit of a hike down the hill to the Causeway itself. I have seen pictures of course but you don’t know how mesmerising the place is going to be until you see it. Nestled in a cove where almost all the rock formations are hexagonal while the rock formations in the surrounding coves are all quite ordinary. The causeway certainly fits the bill of those tourist spots where the picture doesn’t match the reality. You can walk freely around the Causeway and there are plenty of people doing just that. Those ethereal shots you see on postcards must have been created by closing the whole attraction for a day. Despite the crowds it was well worth the visit as well as climbing up and down the rocks – the flat surface of the hexagonal rocks actual made them easy to use as steps. Although going up was easier than coming down. I also decided to take my life in my hands doing some goat walking up a steep path and steps to walk back up the cliff and see the organ. You can see it from the beach and it looks like a series of church organ pipes. When you get up close, it looks like somebody perfectly piled up the hexagonal stones from the causeway beach. Itwasn’t the height of the trail itself but rather the dirt path carved into the side of the hill had virtually nothing to protect you from falling off. It was worth the climb for the view but it was very windy and cold so once we walked back to the car I was happy to be driving again, at least for a short while.

If you toured Ireland and stopped at every castle, I am certain it would take you over a year to circumnavigate the small island. But there are some worth a look. And some are worth paying money to see inside. We decided the ruin of Dunluce castle was the former and we took a bit of a walk around outside and took some snaps of this castle, like so many others, perched on the side of a cliff face exposed to the battering winds and waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Ireland’s ability to be the envy of the picture postcard industry is hard to overstate – from these winswept coatal ciffs to the rolling green hills. And the castles. And the churches. If it wasn’t for the history that forms so much of the folklore of Irish diaspora communities throughout the colonies (or former colonies) it would be hard to understand why any of them left (or indeed still leave) this beautiful place.

We drove westward along the Causeway Way stopping every so often to snap a pic of another castle ruin or cute little farm house or fisherman’s whitewashed cottage. The other thibg you have to be aware of on any Irish road is the tractors. I am pretty sure there are nearly as many tractors in Ireland (north and the republic) as there are cars. And you share the roads with them everywhere (apart from the freeways). Last time I was here I bought Dan a t-shirt with a pic of a tractor that said “pimp my ride”. At least now he understands what it means – still not sure it will be on high rotation in his t-shirt draw.

We arrived in Derry just over an hour before the sun set, parked and set out on a loop of the city walls. This is one of the best preserved city walls in the UK but (probably because of the history) doesn’t really feature on the touristy map. The walls are much lower than the ones in York, less than a metre off the ground in some places. And they are just part of the fabric of the town. Inside of the walls, the cobbled streets are no tourist trap – just a series of functioning businesses – shops and bars, with the odd bed and breakfast. Like its sister city, murals are part of the fabric of Derry. But the first one you come upon is unexpected – a monument to Derry’s new favourite daughters – the Derry girls who have taken the world (or at least Netflix audiences) by storm. As Northern Irish heroes go, they are probably better known than Stiff Little Fingers or Van Morrison. Just as the show hilariously tells the story of life in Derry during the late 90s in the leadup to the Good Friday agreement, you get an even stronger feeling here that the troubles are a thing of the past, despite the fact those fighting for an Irish free state in this town live just miles from the border. The other reason to walk around the city walls is that you get an excellent view of the city below . We could hear the crowd at a Gaelic football match in the stadium below (wish we’d researched that – Gaelic football would have been fun to watch). We were in Derry on a Saturday night and that meant party time in Ireland. Just stepping in for a quick pint anywhere within the rows of pubs within the city walls was an impossibility. Not even into the aptly named – Tracy’s Bar. [Brown Eyed Girl – Van Morrison – I haven’t always been a Van Morrison fan but have come to appreciate his music (along with a range of other mellower performers) as I get older. (Of course punk and ska – and the occasional grindcore track – still feature heavily on my playlist as I think inside I will remain twenty-something for life). This track,  the quintessential Van Morrison offering, seemed the most appropriate for this trip.]

We could also see some of the murals on the gable ends of the Irish republican enclave below, commemorating the many who died in the troubles, including children and the many many who were killed on Bloody Sunday. There are more murals here than in Belfast but less of a sense of foreboding. Perhaps it is the lack of wall. In Derry, the community was predominantly pro-republican catholic so the town doesn’t have the same sense of lingering community division. The murals tell quite a different story – one of conflict with authorities rather than community. In a country steeped in a history of conflict and discrimination, what happened here in the latter part of the twentieth century is a very recent memory. And while there are daily reminders, largely it is a community getting on with it. And tonight they were united behind their local football team.

From the past we walked towards a glimpse of the present – the peace bridge, a curving s shaped footbridge that crosses the River Foyle, joining the old town to the other side of Derry. All white tubular steel, it is supposed to represent the joining of hands across the river in peace.  From here we wandered back towards the area where we found the murals to  Jack’s Bar – what was a neighbourhood bar – for dinner. I had the vege soup – which was actually a pretty good pea and ham soup and feeling the need for something a bit healthier, I opted for the salmon. It of course came on a bed of bacon mash and with white sauce. It also came with an extra side (you could add chips) but I opted for the vege (which was mostly root vege). Dan had a pepper steak with mash and chips (and a very good pepper sauce).

Obviously Derry’s ancient history and typography make it a prettier city than Belfast but it has no less heart and I don’t know whyt more people don’t come here. Perhaps it is the lack of accommodation – the Gaelic football game was probably the reason, now I think about it, but we had to stay about 15 minutes out of town in the end. It was a short drive, to what was essentially a very large roadside hotel. They had upgraded us and we stayed in a suite at the back end of the hotel – it was decorated with very luxe peacock wallpaper and peacock blue furnishings and bedding. (Dan remarked about how many pillows were on the bed) and a pretty lush bathroom. We headed down to the hotel bar for a beer before retiring for the evening.

We decided to head back into Derry for breakfast, partly because we weren’t sure what we might find on the drive from Derry to Galway on a Sunday morning and partly because we hadn’t really explored the area inside the walls. Derry’s old town is essentially a big square and the centre of it is what you imagine was a town square in ancient times. It now has a monument in the centre, forming effectively a cobblestoned roundabout. The streets were deserted on a Sunday morning and most of the stores were either shut for the day, with just a smattering of them open on Sunday afternoon.  This included a rather interesting souvenir shop with some cool t-shirts. This was really the first store we saw that really had anything vaguely resembling souvenirs and it wasn’t the average Irish souvenir shop. [Theme from Harry’s Game – Clannad – this band  very essence of the ethereal Irish landscapes. You imagine this echoing through the hills at sunrise, its sweet choral sounds filling the air. Less well known than ex-member Enya, you can hear her musical inspiration.]

We had Breakfast at Ship Quay Inn. The breakfast was essentially for residents of the Inn (which was really busy with the weekend football game) but they found room for us – we essentially got the Inn breakfast, coffee refills and a side of toast for a pretty good price. And it was really good. I had the Fry which came with black pudding, a poached egg, tomato, mushroom and sausage while Dan opted for a cheese and ham onlette. The lady who ran the place was flitting about everywhere, welcoming guests and trying to ensure her very young (and probably quite new) staff were doing what they needed. This didn’t slow things down too much and we were soon on our way to Galway.