“Is it Giant’s Causeway or Giants’ Causeway?”

“What?”

“Is it Giant apostrophe ess Causeway, or Giants apostrophe Causeway?”

“Is it important?”

“You know how I feel about apostrophes.”

“But is it actually important?”

“I feel it says a lot about a nation if they name something after a type of people or just a descriptive term for a single person when they could have used his or her name. If this was made by a tall fellow called Lenny then he’d probably like it if it was known as Lenny’s Causeway rather than Giant’s Causeway. The latter feels disrespectful. It would be like if they told me that some feature on the website was going to be named in my honour and they only called it Software Developer’s Just Really Horrible Bug instead of using my name.”

“I’m pretty sure Lenny the tall chap did not really build this causeway so it’s not really that important after all, is it?”

We were in Northern Ireland, the second stop on our Sky Princess cruise hitting the UK during the return to cruising following the pandemic. This wasn’t my first visit to the bit of Ireland that England stole as I’d definitely crossed the border once or twice during visits to the Emerald Isle with my family as a kid, but my memory of those events is limited to my mum turning around from the passenger seat in the car to me and my brother and saying “We’re in the crap bit of Ireland now.” I might be making that up. I don’t actually think my mum had any strong feelings about Northern Ireland, and certainly none that she’d want to share with children. Some members of my extensive Irish family did have strong feelings, by all accounts. Probably best I leave that subject where it is.

For my wife, this was her first visit to any part of Ireland. She’s been mentioning for years that she’d love to pop across and to see the bits of the country where my family live (Mayo, since you asked nicely) but I’ve been less keen. It’s not that I’d not love to see Ireland as a photo-happy adult (the last time I was there, I was maybe 19 or 20 and the primary purpose was to get drunk) or that I’d not want my wife to see Ireland; it’s just that if my family found out we were over then we’d be somewhat committed to visit my aunt and my other aunt and my other aunt and my other aunt and that other aunt and that uncle and my cousin and my other cousin and my other cousin and, well, you get the picture.

Taking a cruise to Northern Ireland allowed us to tick off a part of the British Isles that neither of us had truly visited and we’d have a decent excuse of not being near any relatives so therefore could do what we wanted guilt-free. Sky Princess docked at Belfast and we did consider exploring the capital city or taking one of the tours offered there but the lure of the UNESCO World Heritage Site of the Giant’s Causeway won us over.

Our bus drive from the port had taken place accompanied by some serious rain throughout. We expected that we would be getting wet on this trip, but just as we rolled up to the National Trust-run location on the northern coast the inclement weather ceased. That bus drive had also been accompanied by our local guide telling us a bit about Northern Ireland in her strong, Northern Irish accent. We waited eagerly for any mention of a “fillum” but it wasn’t to be. We did, however, get some strong indications that she was pro-Brexit and already blaming the EU for perceived (yet not described) issues she felt were entirely the result of the foreigners who’d stuck by the letter of the stupid agreement the stupid British government had signed. So, that was lovely.

This was the sort of cruise excursion where you’re left to your own devices. There’s the road to the Giant’s Causeway. Go down. Take a look. Take some photos. Try not to kill yourself on the rocks. Meet back at the bus at this time. We did all those things.

The road down to the Giant’s Causeway was not as steep as we feared, nor even quite as long as we’d worried about. The walk was easy enough even though we set off at a decent pace to maximise time at the historic landmark (and because we were concerned that walking back up would take longer) and the views out to sea and of the shoreline rocks and hilly formations afforded plenty of chances for snapping away.

Audio guides are available and there are spots along the walk where the signs indicate what you should be listening to. This might be some geological information or just a bit of storytelling. I didn’t take an audio guide because it would have got tangled up in my camera straps and I’d have required resuscitation following accidental strangulation. It’s a constant fear of mine.

You’ll know that you’ve reached the Giant’s Causeway when you see a large mass of brightly-coloured tourists standing with arms stretched out or looking back coyly over their shoulders so that other people can take Instagram-worthy photos. The mostly hexagonal columns of basalt are another sure sign you’re in the right spot.

How was the Giant’s Causeway formed? Well, there are two answers to this: the fable and the truth. The truth is that, like basalt columns the world over, they were formed following volcanic activity and rapid cooling that caused cracks to create the shapes you see today. The hexagon is a naturally-occurring form as its edges form the shortest lengths between horizontal layers where weaknesses are offset vertically. You’ll see it in drying mud and in overlapping soap bubble formations and in the storm at Saturn’s north pole. Similar basalt rock formations exist on the coastline of Scotland, and we visited some on the south coast of Iceland at Reynisfjara in 2018.

The fable that lends the Giant’s Causeway its name is that Fionn mac Cumhaill (or Finn MacCool if you can’t pronounce Gaelic (and nobody can)) built the causeway from Ireland to Scotland in order to fight a giant there, Benandonner. Fionn, having built the causeway, is therefore a giant himself in this tale (hence the important apostrophe), although historically he’s supposed to have been a human warrior-hunter. While Fionn supposedly had a magic thumb of knowledge (early form of Smartphone) this didn’t bestow him with supersize powers so the giant size of him in this story is one we’ll just have to credit to authors employing retcons, although there is a suggestion that an older Irish mythology of the Fomorians – who were supposedly giants – got mixed up here somehow. Regardless, in one version of the Giant’s Causeway legend, and the version that our tour guide told us, Fionn realised that Benandonner was larger than he was so rather than fight him he dressed as a baby and got his wife Sadhbh to tell Benandonner that Fionn was actually Fionn’s son. Benandonner then assumed Fionn would be too huge to fight so destroyed the causeway between the countries. Using brain to defeat brawn.

My wife didn’t venture too far onto the 50 million years old rock formations because she’s got a history of falling over things. I did better than her, wandering about a bit but still not so far out as many people there. That rain that had fallen, plus spray from the breaking waves on the coast, coupled with the value of the photographic equipment I was carrying lent me a certain caution lacking in others.

We’d had more than enough time to see what we wanted to see and to experience this natural wonder on this excursion stop, so decided to head back up the inclined road towards the Giant’s Causeway visitor centre ahead of most of those in our tour group. We knew we’d be a bit slower heading up than down, we’d have a chance to use the toilets without that crowd of people who’d fled there immediately upon disembarking the bus, and we’d be able to see if we could find any souvenirs before it was time to set off. And, of course, loads more photos, some of them even of different things than I’d shot on the way down.

A few purchases in the gift shop and some brightening weather concluded our trip to see the Giant’s Causeway. We spent a little time by the bus, waiting for everyone to arrive and admiring the views across the Antrim countryside. We enjoyed noticing that the paving stones were hexagonal; an appropriate choice for this location. The remainder of this excursion would see us hit a few photo stops before returning to Sky Princess as Belfast and that will be covered in the next part of this cruise travelogue series: County Antrim Coastline.

The remainder of our time ashore while the ship awaited us back in Belfast would include a drive-by test of tedium and two photo stops.

“Does everyone here like golf?” asked our excursion guide from the front of the bus. We were near the back so may have missed some positive excitement from nearer where she was sitting, but to our ears it sounded like this question was met with silence.

“Who here has heard of the Open Golf Championship?” Yes, we’d heard of it, having not lived our lives to this point in oubliettes, but didn’t feel in any mood to encourage someone who sounded like she was a closet cheerleader for a sport we rank as only marginally less a crime against humanity than Formula 1 and basketball.

“We’re so proud to have hosted the Open!” she positively squealed, as our bus took us past Royal Portrush Golf Club on one side and a static caravan park on the other. “That’s where the TV crews were set up!” she continued, possibly expecting an ooh or an aah. She then mentioned some players’ names, I think, or maybe she described what a hole was. It was golf stuff. The memories of this period on this cruise excursion have slipped from my mind, I’m terribly, terribly sorry to say.

A quick turnaround by the bus had us soon retracing our route to Portrush from the Giant’s Causeway back to a place along the road where we could all get out and take a look at and photograph Dunluce Castle from a distance. It was a nice-looking ruin, and possibly would have looked more foreboding with stormier skies, but the views to it and across the grassland out to sea were very nice and not in any way golf-related which probably disappointed our guide who likely would’ve killed to be able to tell us all how many yards there were to the wall and that we’d probably need a Number 5 Sand-Niblick from here.

Dunluce Castle has existed in some form since the thirteenth century, although the ruins of what you can see these days were additions made in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries when first the Clan MacDonnell seized Antrim and set about improving the defences and living quarters, and then La Girona of the Spanish Armada was wrecked ashore nearby with great loss of life, a salvageable and sizeable amount of cannons that could be used, and treasures that could be sold to pay for extra work on the structure.

Our final photo stop of the day would be to the Portaneevy Car Park. A car park!? They are spoiling us on this tour! But wait, it’s not the car park that’s the thing to take photos of here, it’s the views from it, and they were definitely worth seeing if you get as giddy as a goat when someone says the magic word “islands” to you.

Looking northwest we could see Carrick-a-Rede, a small island just off the coast of County Antrim, connected to the mainland by a rope bridge. For centuries the gap between the island and the land was a route for salmon to swim through and so local fishermen would rig up netting to catch hundreds per day. By 2002 this was down to a couple of hundred across an entire season thanks to overfishing, nearby pollution, or the salmon finally catching on that they could swim on the other side of the island and not end up on someone’s plate by the end of the day.

To the northeast we could see another island, though one considerably farther away. This was Rathlin Island and it’s the most northerly point of Northern Ireland. Our guide pointed out that the wind and currents in this area often made landing on the island, or even passing through the strait, a very dangerous endeavour. Its small size also belies the fact that it’s been host to some interesting historical events:

• the first Viking raid on Ireland landed on Rathlin;
• Robert the Bruce sought refuge on the island;
• Sir Francis Drake was instrumental in massacring Scottish and Irish refugees in 1575;
• during the first world war, German U-boats struck a naval vessel and a passenger cargo ship off the coast of Rathlin with survivors ending up on the island.

Beyond Rathlin we could see more land on the horizon, and that land turned out to be Scotland. In fact, what we were looking at, and what you’re seeing in the photo below, is the Mull of Kintyre, immortalised or brutalised (opinions differ) by Paul McCartney and Wings in 1977. We’ve had to add this experience to our list of countries we’ve seen from other countries. Us travellers: we’ve got lists of everything.

This concludes the excursion we took through Princess Cruises for our day in Northern Ireland. In the next post in this series I’ll cover the sailaway and evening’s activities on board Sky Princess ahead of our arrival in Liverpool, the final port on this short cruise.

Often, when we’re returning to a cruise ship in port we’ll look out for our cabin so that we can point at it and say “There’s our cabin.” If you cruise then you’ll probably do it too. It’s like spotting a cow in a field and saying “Look! A cow!” It’s just one of those things you end up doing when you cruise; file it there alongside waving at people from your balcony as one of those activities that you don’t feel compelled to do when you’re flying or taking a bus somewhere. Cruising is a different way to travel.

Anyway, we couldn’t see our cabin because we had an aft balcony, so we were able to board without any pointing-at-things delays.

Cruise ports are generally not very attractive places, and particularly so when they’re simply additions to more traditional commercial docks dealing with huge amounts of cargo and ferries. We’ve seen worse, but Belfast certainly counts as one of those ports only a mother port could love. Puddle-covered tarmac, silos, cranes, a general feeling of isolation and despair.

Now, where Belfast cruise port does excel is in its wildlife. You’ll always see birds at ports – mostly gulls, of course – because birds are nature’s natural lovers of cruise ships. They just love the effortless way in which ships glide over the oceans and seek out interesting sights or new experiences. It’s far less common to see seals, though, but we got lucky after we’d returned to our room to freshen up a bit and have a drink on our balcony ahead of departure time. We ended up watching at least two seals swimming, floating around a bit, and sometimes going on extended dives for the best part of half an hour. A little bit of research indicates that these were harbour seals which, quite frankly, was a waste of researching time and I really could have guessed it if I’d given it a little more thought.

After Sky Princess started to move away from Belfast cruise port – and after the Love Boat theme blasted out across the deserted, industrial landscape – she made a 180 degree turn as she had been facing westwards and needed to head east. This brought into view the P&O cruise ship Azura which was in the docks undergoing maintenance ahead of her own post-pandemic cruising restart. Azura, to us, will always be known as “the poo ship” thanks to the – at time of writing – two short cruises we’ve had on her six months apart and the presence of a persistent odour both times near one of the lounges. It’s the sort of thing that could put someone off ever cruising on a particular ship again, but we like to give ships time to change, and perhaps one of the many refits and refurbs she’s had in the intervening years has addressed the problem, so – again, at time of writing – we are due to give Azura another chance to impress us in 2023 when we’ve booked a week in the Mediterranean hitting Italy and Croatia on her.

The sun was behind the hills around Belfast as we pulled out into the main channel away from Northern Ireland and towards Liverpool across the Irish Sea. Belfast cruise port may not have been pretty, but the sunset and dusk views back towards it as we left certainly were.

And so to the evening aboard Sky Princess. It won’t surprise anyone to discover that this followed the pattern of most evenings aboard cruise ships for us. There would be drinking, and there would be food. First up was a pre-dinner cocktail in Take Five. We were too early for the band but the venue was still a relaxed, quiet place to just take the weight off your feet and try some of the fabulous cocktails there. When the band aren’t playing there’s also a jazz jukebox you can select tunes from, although each time I tried it on this cruise we ended up leaving the lounge before the tracks I’d picked came up.

Our evening meal was our first chance to try out Bistro Sur La Mer, a new eatery on some of the more recent Princess Cruises ships. My wife enjoyed everything she had but I wasn’t so lucky with my choices; the paté en croute in particular was just this side of revolting, with a questionable texture conjuring up impressions of pencil erasers embedded in corned beef gelatine that came close to triggering my gag reflex. I also wasn’t enamoured with the location of this speciality restaurant with it being right off the piazza and subject to a lot of ambient noise. Still, there are more food options to choose from so we’ll definitely give this place another go.

Just because we fancied somewhere different to have some evening drinks after dinner we tried first the Crown Grill Bar, then the Vista Lounge. The first location was quiet, peaceful, and offered interesting cocktail options; the latter was more vibrant, with music playing, people dancing, lots of people-watching opportunities, but a more limited drinking range to select from, it being mostly limited to the core drinks you can typically get through the app.

In the next post in this Sky Princess UK cruise travelogue series we’ll hit Liverpool, the city in which I went to university more years ago than I like to be reminded of.

Not the port area, though, because that was the very definition of uninteresting.

The distance of the cruise port area to Belfast city centre was enough to require a shuttle bus and it wasn’t too long before we’d hopped off opposite the city hall, had a quick nose at the tourist information centre, then set off on a walk to where we wanted to hit first. Lovely little architectural touches and some gorgeous bits of derelict or unloved buildings pleased my eye. A monument of Henry Cooke seemed important and after reading up about him he seemed to symbolise Belfast’s history pretty well, being a divisive figure with a set of beliefs at odds with those of other people’s sets of beliefs, memorialised in bronze afterwards by his supporters likely mostly to just piss off the opposite side.

We encountered a few bits of street art on our walk to our first destination of the day, and we would encounter a whole lot more before the end of the day.

It didn’t take us too long to reach where we’d been aiming for, and since the likelihood of you hitting this write-up without having searched for the name of the place or at least seen the title of the post before you randomly clicked on it is as close to zero as makes no difference then it won’t surprise you to read right now that this was the Crumlin Road Gaol.

Just before we entered the gaol, though, we were quite taken with the building opposite. Neoclassical, lovely portico with Corinthian style columns? Yes please! This was the mid-nineteenth century Crumlin Road Courthouse, a convenient location close to the gaol at which to try the accused. Its fate in more recent years has been blighted by redevelopment plans needing to align with its Grade 2-protected status and mysterious fires. You’d be amazed how often there are mysterious fires when redevelopment is involved. Amazed.

The courthouse and gaol were connected by a tunnel to facilitate transferring prisoners and after we’d paid to enter – after also helping some French visitors understand the payment process and where to go following some confusion dealing with the person at the counter (thanks GCSE French!) – the first part we looked at was that tunnel.

We then absolutely enjoyed a couple of hours within the walls of the prison. I won’t go into the history of Crumlin Road Gaol because there are better sources for that and if you’re interested in visiting then you’ll likely have some idea anyway. You will learn so much more inside. This was one of those places that has a lot of videos you can watch and these can be hit and miss sometimes, but at Crumlin Road they were utterly fascinating. Genuine accounts from prisoners from both loyalist and republican sides in the troubles including successful escapes, fictionalised accounts of older stories of inmates including young women and the poor put in there for the most minor of offences, the punishments doled out. Well worth checking as much out as you can.

One of the aspects of the visit that we appreciated the most was the one-way system in areas of the gaol with timed entries and exits. Effectively, to get into one wing, for example, you’d need to wait in an anteroom until a gate opened up, timed to allow others out at some other point. This stopped everyone walking through en masse and it stopped people heading back to parts they’d already seen, but the best part about it was the removal of just that tiny bit of freedom of movement. It was fascinating to see people tutting and getting a little frustrated that they couldn’t move on without realising that they were getting to experience the merest hint of what the prisoners had to live through.

The last area we wandered through inside the gaol was the execution chamber, built in 1901. In total seventeen prisoners were hanged at Crumlin Road Gaol. This chamber housed chilling “entertainment” in the form of silhouettes of the condemned and guards with the rope hanging and sounds of the doors opening.

Out into the fresh air at the end of our visit we had a good chance to admire the architecture of the gaol and its distinctive star-shaped arrangement. In addition there were some classic vehicles from the times of the troubles: armoured cars, a truck, and even a Wessex Helicopter.

The very final part of the gaol experience was a quick look inside the Matron’s House. The matron was tasked with looking after the incarcerated women and children.

We’d had such a wonderful time in the gaol and had reached past lunchtime with the realisation that we had loads more walking planned during our time in Belfast so we did something unexpectedly sensible for us and grabbed a spot of lunch in the gaol’s café. We offset that sensibleness by ordering cocktails too.

Unfortunately, in addition to being very expensive the food was basic and dry and the drinks were frighteningly sweet. Luck of the draw, perhaps, or maybe just another nod to the likely average-at-best nourishment that prisoners would have received. Maybe. What are cocktails like in prison, anyway?

In the next post in this cruise travelogue series we’ll head off for a walk to see the Protestant and Catholic areas take on street art either side of the Belfast interface area.

An interface area was a place where neighbourhoods in Belfast with strict ethnic or religious affiliations came together in a spirit of friendship and understanding. Wait. Wait a second. No, that’s not quite true. It’s where anger and violence was commonplace. The areas were therefore often patrolled or segregated by barriers. Following more sensible heads prevailing these parts of Northern Ireland’s capital city have taken on more historical, educational roles, and some have become popular tourist destinations. The west Belfast interface area between the Shankill and Falls roads (loyalist, protestant and republican, catholic areas respectively) is one such area, now known for its street art either side of the barricades, still interestingly sectarian in nature as we were to discover.

The first piece of street art we came across, however, was above a corner of the Shankill Road known as Conor’s Corner, dedicated to a late nineteenth century local artist and featuring some of his work on the walls. The street art that caught our eyes, though, was more modern; a Blade Runner-style artwork called Hope and painted by Dan Kitchener.

At this point we were in the largely loyalist, protestant part of Belfast and the street art was very indicative of themes you associate with British self-identified patriots nowadays: military figures of the dim and distant past, glorifying war achievements, any ethno-cultural prejudices a bonus. John Henry Patterson got his own bit of glorifying on the walls just north of the interface area and he does have a fascinating history: born in Ireland, serving in Africa, killing lions, becoming part of the Ulster Volunteers against the idea of Ireland ruling itself (because it’s nice to be subjugated), then leading what was called the Jewish Legion during World War I which would be the precursor to what is now the Israeli Defence Force. It’s highly likely that defending antisemitism from his own superiors towards the men he commanded ended up pushing him over the edge into full-blown Zionism (because it’s nice to subjugate). A very influential individual.

Through one set of barriers we passed by a few odd sculptures and the Imagine mural which hoped to serve as some sort of bridge between the two cultures either side of the interface area. From this point on the artwork would take on a very different feel with the emphasis on peace, freedom, stopping wars, stopping oppression, releasing political prisoners, and just generally trying to get along with everyone.

We took our time walking slowly along this road, taking in all the themes of the pieces of street art, and we quite often saw taxis turn up and stop with tourists, the drivers acting as guides and giving details on the history of areas or of the meanings behind particular pieces of art. This is quite a popular way to see Belfast by all accounts and if you’re less happy with wandering about on your own or have more pressing need to make the best use of your time then it offers an alternative way of seeing sights such as this.

We eventually turned off the road we’d been walking along and started heading back towards the centre of Belfast where we had one final destination on our agenda for this day in port. At this point the political street art came more-or-less to an end and more general artworks started to pop up on walls and the sides of buildings.

In the next post in this Regal Princess British Isles cruise series we’ll try out some local craft ales then enjoy some of the architecture and sculptures around Belfast City Hall before heading back to the ship.

“Did it involve the drinking of beer?” you might be asking yourself if you’re at all familiar with us.

It did involve the drinking of beer. Give yourself a gold star.

But first there were some roads to navigate and these included the odd statue or sculpture here and there – Belfast likes them – and some more street art – Belfast likes that too – and we’re quite keen on the two things as well so photos were taken.

Of particular interest was the statue of Frederick Douglass, an escaped slave-turned-abolitionist and orator, who had been invited to tour Ireland in the 1840s, partly to ensure he stayed out of reach of his former owner who might try to retrieve his “property”. His life story is absolutely fascinating and well worth a read. This is the first statue of him to be erected in Europe.

The drinking establishment to which we were headed, and where we had a couple of very nice pints in lovely surroundings, was Bell’s Brewery. We will always try to find local craft ale brewers whenever we travel. The place had a good range and was very spacious with the fermenters on show and some memorabilia on display too.

After resting our feet and treating our taste buds we made our way to where the shuttle bus would be, but with still a bit more time to spare and with no idea when we might be back in this part of the world we took in a circuit of the outside of Belfast City Hall. Did I mention that Belfast likes statues? I did!? Well, it really likes statues and you can find a lot in the grounds of the administrative building.

Construction of the city hall was started at the tail end of the nineteenth century, not being completed until 1906, and the decision to build an administrative headquarters of this size was due to Belfast being awarded city status in 1888 by Queen Victoria and it being felt by the new city’s councillors that something grander than that already in use was needed. The building therefore incorporates some elements that are early Edwardian but with a lot of Baroque touches too.

It was interesting to see a plaque marking a memorial garden for the Titanic’s victims in the grounds of City Hall as this was the second one we’d seen on this cruise, having walked to one in Cobh in the Republic of Ireland.

Below you can see some of the other statues and memorials erected around Belfast City Hall.

Pictured first is a memorial to the soldiers who fought and lost their lives in the Second Boer War and a bust of William Pirrie, who, amongst other non-cruise-related notable achievements, was on record during his chairmanship of Harland & Wolff shipbuilders of saying that the Olympic-class ships (Olympic, Britannic, and Titanic) were unsinkable and that the small number of lifeboats on them were there to help others. Ah.

James Horner Haslett was a politician, an MP representing the city in the House of Commons first for Belfast West then for Belfast North, and served as mayor of Belfast for two years in the late 1880s.

The USA Expeditionary Force Memorial commemorates the arrival of American troops in Belfast in 1942. The only Victoria Cross recipient from Northern Ireland in World War II, James Joseph Magennis, gets a monument too. His cross was awarded for a successful if arduous limpet mine-planting task on a Japanese cruiser.

Unveiled just a couple of months before our visit to Belfast there were two statues to two female political activists, Mary Ann McCracken (abolitionist) and Winifred Carney (suffragist).

Of course, Victoria got herself a prime piece of central real estate for her statue although she didn’t live long enough to see it.

And finally, the Cenotaph.

We admired a little of the other architecture surrounding Belfast City Hall but at this time we saw a shuttle bus arrive, boarded it, and were soon on our way back to the ship.

To conclude this post and our visit to Belfast – a visit that had been far more interesting than Dublin, it would be fair and easy to say – here are some photos of dinner aboard Regal Princess in the evening and a couple of cocktails we availed ourselves of as we enjoyed some of the entertainment on the ship during its overnight sailing away from Northern Ireland.

In the next post in this Regal Princess British Isles cruise series I’ll cover the start of our day docked in Greenock, Scotland where we spend absolutely no time there at all and head off to look at Stirling Castle instead.