Troon to Portstewart

We rolled the 3-odd miles down to the ferry terminal, which is actually in Troon, and lined up with all the cars. After a quick wait we were issued our tickets and sent to the very front on the queue, nice. We rolled on again down to the boat and the bikes were tied up to a rail just inside the car loading dock. To be honest it seemed a bit ad-hoc compared to the very precise parking instructions and strapping down the cars received.

The trip across to Northern Ireland (Larne) was flat and foggy; pretty typical big ferry replete with shops, bars and food joints etc. We were first off the boat once we arrived and then the only thing which remained was to rendezvous with Dad who was driving up from Belfast to meet us. There were some phone calls, and some waving, and then some running, and then some jumping back when Dad drove past (backwards then forwards), but eventually we were reunited and found a park. We broke the bikes down a bit and drove back to Belfast.

We met up with Mum, Mike and Bron and typical family behavior ensued ... I'll leave the details to the imagination of the reader.

Not without a certain amount of palaver, we waited in the middle of a street parade for quite some time on top of a red double decker to go on a tour around the sites of Belfast. The highlight for me was probably seeing the twine cranes, in the docks Samson and Goliath - The other interesting and sad part was to see much of the area where the troubles have focused for many decades, things like the 2+ mile wall with gates closed at all times outside standard business hours. Flags, murals, lots of razor wire and decay give the strong impression that underlying feelings that drove the conflict only sit just below the surface.

Tour over we packed everything up and drove up to Portstewart for a few days. Dad spent most of his childhood up here, so he's like a big excited kid showing us around, taking us down to 'the front' (the waterfront) and harbour for fish and chips, and icecream apparently still made by the same people from his childhood. A late night, probably the latest we've had all trip; we all got to bed exhausted.