Rathlin Island
Our first day together in Ballycastle, breakfast was every man for himself, but that was easy for us, without small children to wrangle. They range from 7 months to 14, and it is not clear which is the most trouble. The day was overcast and spitting a little rain. We bundled up and walked the few hundred feet to the beachfront, through the park, and to the ferry wharf.
By 9:30, we were standing in line for the ferry to Rathlin Island. I was a little anxious about the tickets. I had printed copies of the 26 tickets, but they didn’t lay out well, so they were hard to organize. They were going to take a week to load on my phone. No problem, the man at the gate had a tablet and looked us up.
The ferry was a small passenger and vehicle ferry, holding about four to six vehicles and two dozen bicycles. The front ramp folded out for all to load. We walked up the ramp, climbed the steps, and sat on the covered deck. Rathlin Island was in the distance.
It was a rolling ride with sea birds following along. At Rathlin, we walked down the ramp to a congregation of people and cars waiting to load. A row of white buildings lined the beach, just under a high hill. A yellow sign read car hire. We followed the signs, houses, and stores on our left, a park with granite benches and a small beach on our right. The whole thing wrapped around the protected harbor. There was a light drizzle.
The signs led us up between the buildings and then at an intersection to the right, out of the two dozen buildings that constituted the settlement. The small road was protected by stone walls, and a few cattle were in the fields. Finally, we came to a large sign, ‘Bike Hire”. Behind a house, an older couple checked our names, then fitted us out with bikes from their large garage. The women showed us various routes to different lighthouses and a sea bird center. She suggested that with the children, we take the easier route to a small lighthouse where seals congregate. She warned us not to get close because the mothers will abandon the baby seals if we approach.
As we adjusted bicycle seats, Lara, our niece, said, “We’re not Hickmans. We’re taking the easy route.” My son Brendan, who has the record for hiking the Pacific Crest Trail in 40 days, and Peter, who likes rim-to-rim runs at the Grand Canyon, headed to the right, and we went left with Lara’s family and Peter’s daughters. The drizzle stopped as we pedaled the narrow rolling road. Cindy hasn’t ridden a bike for years, but did well. At the beach, three miles away, there were several ruins of stone buildings. We left our bikes at the end of the road and walked a path to the building and the shore. Seal lined the sore. Diving ducks worked the margins of the water. In the distance, we could see the mainland. It was great, other than a painful encounter with a stinging nettle by a niece.
At the Marine Hotel, we all gathered for a great lunch, then entertained ourselves until we dropped off our bikes and gathered at a pub to wait for the ferry.
After we arrived back in Ballycastle, the group walked up the street to our house, where Cindy realized she had left her phone back on the island, and someone had hit Brendan’s car but left a note. The damage was minor in the sense that it was only the wheel that was bent, but serious in that his rental didn’t have a spare (a common issue with some small cars). Cindy looked at Find My Phone and saw the phone was in the Marine Hotel. I called, and they said they would send it over on the ferry in the morning. Brendan left the car for another day.
We walked to a pub up the road, but had to split since our group was too large. After supper, we walked home, where kids played and laughed as we talked over a little Irish Whiskey. A good day.
This featured blog entry was written by Deuxenvacances from the blog Two Irelands.
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