The wind has gone round to the north, and is forecast to be up around F5 or F6…..not normally a problem except that our direction is north and the tidal race through Ratlin Sound  is not to be taken lightly in this weather.

A conversation with Ken, the amazingly helpful harbourmaster at Glenarm, confirms the decision. We’re going nowhere for the next 2 days. He gives us the local knowledge of some vicious standing waves reaching 2m just off Tor Head and also of the dangers of an entrance into the river at Coleraine in strong Northerlies.

Freshly showered, we head off to catch a bus to Larne, which is the closest ‘big’ town. The drive along the coast is very pretty, with little villages clinging to the rocky shoreline, and the steep hillsides behind.

Larne itself has seen better days. It reminded us in some ways of Grimsby, with its shuttered shops, the preponderance of vapes and tattoo parlours, and a slightly more modern, but nonetheless dispiriting shopping centre which has turned its back on the high street. A coffee stop turns into lunch/dinner of pie and mash for John and Yee Tak, and quiche and mash for James. With an hour left before the bus back, we set our sights on something more liquid. But this is an Irish town like none we have visited so far. There is not a pub or a bar in sight. We decide to walk back to the train station (near the bus stop) and find a bench for an hour…

…but as luck would have it, there is a station bar. It is wall to wall TV screens showing racing and premier league football, but the barman and handful of early afternoon drinkers are really friendly….one even delivers the Guinesses to our table. It turns out that another used to be on the lifeboat crew at Red Bay, just up the coast. He now has a small fishing boat, and corroborates our own instincts and that of the harbourmaster,  by saying that he most definitely won’t be going out in the next two days.

Back on Heydays, Ken the ever helpful harbourmaster, offers us a more comfy berth for the night, to get us out of the northerly swell which is starting to make its presence felt, even inside the marina. We make the hop around the marina and he compliments us on how easy we made it all look, even in what is turning into a fairly fresh breeze….we try not to look smug, as the next time we do it, we’ll get it wrong….in front of the inevitable crowd of onlookers.

Musings so far…

Seen through the eyes of the news and other writings, we clearly recognise the very different cultures in the north and south of this island….the Catholic dominated south with its proud sense of independence and struggle against the English Crown, and the protestant North with its siege mentality against southern takeover and fierce loyalty to the UK. This is not the time or place to delve into the politics of the two states, just a reflection on what we have seen so far…

…a resurgent and lively independent state largly at peace with itself, and  making real investment in its civic infrastructure. Proud of its battles for freedom, but seemingly without any lasting grudges against the English. A preponderance of bars, music, art and colour (in the towns and villages we visited), all in contrast to a much less colourful and dour protestant north. The lack of bars, the militaristic marching bands of the various orange lodges and, in the words of one local, “our tendency to want to memorialise individuals and never forget.“

He went on to explain that the different marching bands memorialise different people from King Billy to local heroes, as the wreath laid yesterday affirms.

A couple of further musings…

…there seems to be an interesting contrast between the Irish Republic tricolour, representing green for the Catholics, orange for the protestants and white for the hope for the future, set against the St George cross of the north, with its crown and red hand of Ulster, representing a strong and separate loyalist identity and, so we are told, no surrender.

The detective writer Peter May, has set his Lewis Trilogy in the outer Hebrides and he describes the Northern calvinist Isles as dour and soulless, with, even until very recent times, a banning of pubs or music on Sundays, in contrast to the Catholic southern isles of South Uist and Barra, where life (and drinking and music) was more free and easy. If Heydays gets that far next year, we’ll report back.

There is something about knowing that you’ve not got much time to sleep,  which makes it even worse getting to nod off. Fitful, is the best we managed sadly, so the alarm at 2.45am was not welcomed.

The best bit is laying out all the warm clothes in advance so that one isn’t hunting around in the early hours. Morning greetings to each other are polite but cursory, as each of us goes about our usual chores.

The wind overnight was still whistling through the rigging a bit more than we would have liked,  promising a more lively sea.

At 3.35 we’re ready, and cast off in the pitch black with just faint outlines of shapes of boats for company. We slide gingerly out of the marina and head out for the first pair of red and green channel buoys.

In days gone by, we would have written down the light pattern for each buoy, and ticked it off as we go past. Perhaps we should do that now, but we have electronic charts, so no need for old fashioned stuff eh? We feel our way down the lough and feel the seas rise as we clear the entrance. We round the final south marker and head north. We catch a glimpse of the lights of a couple of fishing boats, but otherwise we have the sea to ourselves. Just us and the drizzle,  which has set in!

With the early flood in our favour, we plug on, making good progress along the Ulster coast. We realise too late that we’ve already broken the law, as we should have notified the UK border force of our intention to come back into the UK.

There is no spectacular dawn today, just a gradual and very faint lightening of the sky. We start to make out a horizon, and then gradually more detail of waves and clouds. Taking turns to snooze is not easy, as the motion is quite bumpy at times, but as the morning wears on the drizzle fades, the wind lessens, and even the waves show signs of easing.

We had originally planned to stop in at Ardglass, but with all the delays, time is of the essence and we plough on to Bangor.

The coast line is grey and uninviting for photo opportunities, but we pass the South Rock lighthouse, and then as the visibility improves,  we find ourselves able to see four different territories…The Isle of Man, The Irish Republic, Ulster, and Scotland’s Mull of Galloway….even though they are mostly grey smudges above a grey sea.

The Irish sea is fascinating in all sorts of ways, not least being tidal flow. All along the South coast, the Bristol Channel, the south Irish coast and halfway up the Irish Sea, we have been used to thinking of flood tides as flowing east or north, and ebbs as west or south….easy. However, there is a huge amount of water in the areas bordered by Morecambe Bay, the north Welsh coast, and Galloway. The only two places for it to go are south past Anglesey and north through the boringly named North Channel. The problem for the latter is that it meets water sluicing down the west coast of Scotland. The  result, for those of you now asleep, is that firstly the ebb flow is now north (unnatural for us southern sailors) and secondly very fast.

As we pass the entrance to Strangford Lough, (sadly no time to visit this year, but certainly when we come back down) and turn more northerly, we get the full benefit of a strong north going ebb. The sun makes a watery appearance and the sea flattens, with just a long, lazy swell remaining from astern. Heydays slides down the front of this swell, occasionally making 10knots over the ground. This may seem glacial to those of you with yellow Ferrari, motor boats or even a decent pair of legs, but for our old girl, it is like turning into Usain Bolt.

We approach the first tidal race, Donaghdee Sound, just before Bangor, around 2 hours earlier than planned…

…”how far is it to our next planned stop in Glenarm?” muses Yee Tak. John and I look at each other and with a few tidal calculations, plus weather checks, it seems clear that, given the previous setbacks,  this makes sense. 

A slight change of course takes us ever more northerly…

and we head out across Belfast Lough. Even the wind seems to agree as it veers to put us on a nice beam reach. 

With Lough Larne rushing past one side and the twin lights of East and West Maiden on the other…

…we find ourselves in the approach to our first stop in ‘the six counties’.

We had called ahead to talk to the harbourmaster and he was extremely helpful. We knew exactly where to moor and had all lines and fenders ready, so that we were through the entrance, tied up and out of sailing togs all within about 10 minutes.

A very tiring day, but a brilliant and very satsfying adventure. Cruising is not meant to be about rushing along,  but the earlier delays mean that we need to get to our winter berth in Coleraine within the next week. 84 miles in 13 hours and 15 minutes, average speed of 6.3 knots.

Footnote:

We wander ashore, to have a quick look around, and possibly find a drink or two. First impressions are of a much more dour little village than the equivalents we have visited in the south. Gone are the gaily painted cottages, to be replaced with a fairly uniform grey stone or pebbledash. To be fair, the village was based partly around a quarry, hence the easily available stone. It reminds us in many ways of  parts of Scotland, where we saw the same grey stone and pebbledash.

The two pubs (next to each other) seem warm and inviting…

…but it feels like we have stepped back a few decades to the kind of drinking place we went to as students in the seventies. Everyone is very friendly though. Several locals say goodbye as we leave and the landlady hopes to see us tomorrow..

Further footnote:

As we tuck into dinner back on Heydays, two police cars with blue lights flashing station themselves at either end of the village, holding up the traffic. We hear what at first is rapid gunfire, or is that just our prejudice or conditioning? As it turns out, it is massed drums and the start of a procession of marching fife and drum bands. There are around 10 different bands all with 20 or so men and boys. All very smartly, but militarily uniformed….and all carrying the Union Flags,orange flags, and the flags of St George with the Ulster Red Hand in the middle.

Why am I bothered by appearing to take an overt picture? As a result what we end up with is a blurry image….

…and a lot of questions…

A bit of a clash as they say, between the need to push on north and prudence/comfort. We had planned to make the trip along the coast to Ardglass, but the forecast was not at all conducive or welcoming, especially the predicted sea state after a day and night of near gales.

One option which we briefly discussed before bed, was to wait a day and then make a longer passage directly to Bangor, bypassing Ardglass on Friday. It would mean a 3.30am start to get the ebb out of the Lough and also to get a favourable tide through Donaghdee Sound and round to Bangor.

A 7am wake-up shows no change in the forecast and so we make the decision  to stay and leave on Friday. Back to bed with a coffee  and we plan to take the bus to Dundalk. We’re told that it is much more together than Newry across the border, although Newry has better shopping!

The morning is bright but cold….John finally decides it’s socks weather…

A morning walk along the pontoon disturbs the local heron…

The bus to Dundalk leaves from Carlingford village by the harbour…

…where we watch youngsters from the local adventure school throwing themselves into the chilly waters, presumably for fun!

We are even more fascinated by the local sauna by the beach as a group of men (they are all men), rush out of the hot box and get into the lough….why?

We’re not sure if King John was fond of throwing himself into the sea, but he built a castle here and was one of the few Kings of England to visit the island of Ireland.

The bus is busy (as have been most buses so far), and it takes us out round the headlands of the Cooley peninsula which we passed (bumpily) yesterday.

We arrive in Dundalk thirsty…

…and then hungry.  So there’s nothing for it  but to have an all day breakfast at Ma Brady’s.

We’re immediately taken, by the extraordinary amount of murals and street art, all created by different artists, and telling real or imagined stories of Dundalk….

What is nice is that despite being a ‘border town’ and having its share of violence during the troubles, there’s not a balaclavas clad man with a gun in sight…

…although there are a few swords.

Another big difference between Dundalk and anywheresville in UK, is that the high street is busy, full of independent shops….and they’ve taken the time to coordinate paint…

There’s an old tobacco and stuff factory, and we wonder at the art work writing. Apparently the line is from Robbie Burns, his link with Dundalk is that his sister lived here, and the company, searching for a name for a new cigarette called it Sweet Afton…

With an early start tomorrow, we hope on the bus back to Carlingford, and have a quick look round this lovely village…

The route back to the boat takes us past the little restaurant/bar at the marina….it would be rude not to…

A few last minute checks on tides, wind, waves etc, and then all ready for an alarm tomorrow at 2.45am!

The wind and rain overnight has passed through, leaving a bright morning…albeit with the promise of more to come.

Final preparations around the boat, and we slip the mooring just on High Water, to take the first of the ebb away from Malahide…

The SE winds overnight have kicked up a bit of a swell, which is breaking over the shallows at the entrance, but nothing to bother us…

With a fresh SW breeze we are almost on a dead run and opt for just a genoa. We have quite a large one, but with the benefit for us of roller furling. It loses something in performance as it is progressively furled, but without tame gorilla’s on a heaving foredeck to change sails, it is a great compromise.  We briefly consider using the cruising chute…..even bigger, but with the wind set to veer and increase, we take the easy way out.

Heydays soon settles in to a decent 6 knots through the water, and we even have time to muse over the weather fronts coming through, bringing some amazing clouds and even a rainbow.

This part of the country is quite flat, with what appears to be nice beaches. Lambey island is soon astern, and we so want the lighthouse to be called Rockabilly, but the Irish in a rare dour moment call it Rockabill…

As the morning wears on, the wind is most definitely at the top end of the forecast. Soon, we’re experiencing quite frequent gusts well into F7 territory. As we roll away some genoa, we’re grateful that we didn’t use the ‘chute. As it is, the autohelm has a hard time keeping pace with waves which are building nicely over the port quarter. Every so often, a larger pair come through, and Heydays lifts up her skirts and surfs down into the trough at well over 8kts. It requires quite a bit of concentration to keep her heading where we want to go.

The only boats we see are a small trawler heading home and a couple of coasters heading into Carlingford Lough…no mad dogs as far as we can see.

By early afternoon, Drogheda and the Boyne are well astern, and the Mountains of Mourne are clearly visible, and it is time for us to start to look for the lights and buoys to lead us in.

If we had thought that landfall would bring us an easier time, we were sadly mistaken. Even in what we thought would be the lee of the mountains, we are still getting gusts of over 30kts, and enough of a swell even across a short fetch, to dump the occasional lump of salty water over us.

As we make our final approach to the little marina at Carlingford, a sudden strong gust sets up a mini waterspout. Sadly we’re too busy with fenders and ropes etc to get any sort of shot.

Once safely moored, we’re into a couple of gins plus snacks to tide us over before dinner, and reflecting on what was a much bumpier ride than expected.

It’s also odd in some ways, to be moored on one side of the Lough in the Republic, while just a few hundred meters away is Ulster and the UK, with a freight ferry from Heysham to Warrenpoint….and all the attendant nonsense about trade with the EU, borders and customs…

As the sun sets over the mountain, we still get a reminder of what is outside, as a sudden down draft or squall comes whistling through, well into gale territory, even in this supposedly sheltered spot.

The wind, which has been steadily F7 for the last 4 days, finally eased overnight,  producing a better night’s sleep all round. The whistling, flapping and general clanking (from other boats) eventually becomes quite wearing.

Dawn broke with sunshine and hope that we’ll actually get our keels wet today.

Around 10.30 we finally get the brilliant sight of the crane moving into position.

We follow along almost reverentially  at something of a funereal pace, as Heydays is gradually manoevered  into position. We top up with diesel, and the engineer comes aboard to make final checks as we’re lowered into the water.

It’s almost possible to hear the old girl sigh as she floats in her natural environment once more…

With thumbs up from the engineer and the sea staying outside the boat, Heydays is back under her own power…

…and we’re soon back alongside, ready to get her ready for our much delayed journey north. With the tide gate missed for today, Wednesday will be the start…

We pop into town for a quick lunch…

…and a last look round. Malahide has been a great place to be holed up,  but its time to leave. We have to mention again Therese and the team in the yard, who have gone out of their way to help despite the technical problems. We hope that some flowers and a few cans will go some way to showing our appreciation. 

We hope that the next post will be from somewhere else…

So FedEx were supposed to have delivered the part for the hoist by now, although to be fair, the weather is atrocious. Even if they manage to get the hoist repaired today, it would be a very tricky lift in these high winds, so we’re resigned to have to wait until Tuesday. Even then, we will need to carry out several checks around the repairs, and there is no chance of getting the genoa bent on. It’s looking increasingly likely that it will be Wednesday before we can get the water moving under her keels. We’ve revised passage plans several times already, but even if we make it up near Ratlin island, there is no guarantee that the tides and weather won’t conspire against us.

This is a much more promising forecast, but we’re tracking the low to the NW of Ireland very carefully! The jet stream (and hence the weather patterns) seem to be tracking more southerly earlier in the year than previously. This is the weather we would normally associate with October…

The direction of the flood (rising tide) and ebb (falling tide) changes  in the north channel. This is the narrow stretch of water between Mull of Kintyre and Ulster. In the right (wrong?) conditions, this can set up some unpleasant standing waves and overalls, so timing is everything. The pilot books are clear…..get it wrong, and the best outcome is that you get spat out the way you came. Timing over the next few days will be everything…

*late update….the part arrived and will be commissioned tomorrow morning. So definitely no sailing until Wednesday. It’s a tough life, but we resigned ourselves to an early evening drink (s) and an early bird dinner at Sale et Pepe. This turns out to be a great meal, very reminiscent of the atmosphere at the old Logis hotels in France.

Early to bed, ready to welcome the yard staff  first thing.

The last two or three weeks for Heydays crew has been spent in the bosom of families and grandchildren, a festival or two, and for Chris, the celebration of a big birthday. In the meantime,  Heydays has been lifted out and had a new stern gland (re-packed to be precise), together with a flush through and check of the cooling system, a check of the cutlass bearing and a general clean up of her bottom.

She was due to be lifted back in on Wednesday, but the hoist promptly failed, requiring a specialist part from Italy. Therese, the manager in the yard at Malahide was brilliant at keeping us up to date, but with flights already booked, three of us decided to head back to Ireland anyway, ready to make a getaway once the part arrived (for Chris, the lure of quality time with grandchildren was a bigger draw). With Heydays still on dry land the yard made arrangements for us to have access so we can stay on board…albeit having to traipse out to the loos. They also organised for the night watchman to let us in, with ladder access to the old girl.

Still  hopeful for the part arriving Friday, and for a Saturday getaway, we caught the night flight from Southampton to Dublin. An hour delay meant that we didn’t get to Malahide until around 11pm, but everything worked as planned and we finished off the evening with the odd rum or scotch…

Having left at the end of August in shorts, T shirts and sun cream, it was something of a shock to find that we needed warm clothes and jumpers.

Friday morning gave us a chance to inspect the old girl more thoroughly…

…and mostly looking good.  The copper coat has done a great job so far and the propeller seems to be fine as well.

Although there is a frustration at not being launched, and we glare menacingly at the hoist every time we pass…

….it’s an ill wind as they say. Malahide is not a bad place to be holed up.

The part is now due to arrive on Monday, but the winds are not to be trifled with at the moment…

….the ill wind allows us to get on with several jobs which had been on the list for a while, and we take a bus into Swords which is just near the airport and has both BandQ and a marine chandlery. 

The bus only takes coins (not notes and definitely not cards). The driver looks at the shrapnel which Yee Tak has in her purse, about €3, and says “don’t worry, just give me that”….this amounts to roughly half what we should be paying.

…but even better, we get to the town centre where the bus terminates and ask where to catch the bus out to the out of town mall for B and Q.

“Stay there” he says as the bus empties. He then shuts the doors and drives us in our own double decker to the mall. The generosity, and loose interpretation  of rules of the Irish never ceases to amaze us.

Dinner at a heaving bar called Gibney’s…

Saturday, is very blustery, with winds whistling and wining in the rigging, but its fine, so no excuse not to get on with jobs.

With a polished hull, transducers antifouled and reseated, we decide to make the most of a break in the rain to take the train to Howth and stretch our legs.

The little harbour is actually quite a major fishing port…

…and the dockside is lined with fishmongers, fish restaurants and the most amazing hardware/chandlery. It’s a struggle to get John out, but we replace a tired fender which gets some quizzical looks on the train…

We buy fish and oysters for our lunch tomorrow,  and settle down to an early dinner in Crabby Joe’s….just a light seafood platter and some tempura prawns…

Some hardy souls have been out racing, and we watch them returning with varying degrees of control. Interesting to note though, that anything looks easy if you have a crew of 5 or 6 tame gorillas…

A harbour seal watches us lazily…

As for any sailing content in this blog? We’ve talked a lot….what is doable, what plan B and C look like if the winds keeps blowing through etc etc. The stretch north up to Fair Head is ok in a blow….especially if the wind stays in the west, but the north coast past Ratlin Island is not to be triffled with. Lots of water from the Atlantic trying its hardest to force its way between Ireland and Scotland. We’ll make decisions closer to the time.

You would have thought that I would have known how to upload videos by now. Well, I have, just….

So here are just a few from the recent past,  but I’ll try to include them in the main posts next time…

This was a very atmospheric moment, listening to a pipe and drum band by the dockside in Waterford as the sun went down…

…and then we went in search of some more music in a bar not so very far away. A really talented musician making full use of loops, but playing such a range of instruments.

As we left Waterford and motored down with the ebb, a pod of dolphins decided to play….or were we just disturbing their fish? Bottlenose we think, unless either of our readers knows different…

….and occasionally we actually sail…

I’ll get better at the commentary….hopefully!

Friday was spent peering at the engine and researching the various possibilities around our suspicions. The engineer will visit Monday,  but we wanted to get as much info as possible first.  There were some very kind and knowledgeable people on both Facebook and especially the Moody Owners Association,  who had some valuable insights. The rest of the day was a bit domestic, making use of the washers and even dry cleaners on site.

Lovely atmosphere in town in the evening, lots of relaxed al fresco dining….but all outside tables packed away by 9pm…

With a weekend ahead before the engineer comes, we decide to take a train to Dublin…on the day that Oasis come to town! It’s rammed more than usual, but still a lovely city nonetheless.  We’ve all been before, and have ‘done’ all the usual touristy stuff. So we just wander along the Liffey and stop for a pint, before turning back south and a late lunch/early dinner in Marco Pierre White’s place. Another pint at O’Donoghues….used to be a tiny bar where the pints were passed over people’s heads….now expanded and clearly we’re some of the oldest there.

We finish off at St Stephen’s Green and just sit and people watch for a bit. Again, a lovely atmosphere in the early evening….then train home and possibly a nightcap…

Sunday starts with one of the more glamorous boaty jobs….replacing the seals on the sea toilet.  Actually it’s not too bad, and after a hosedown, its almost a pleasure in there. We decide to take train along the coast to Howth…along with the half of Dublin not waking up with hangovers after Oasis.

It’s a lovely fishing town and a real intergenerational mix just out for Sunday…

Lots of buskers and a radio museum which makes us feel really old, as lots of the exhibits we grew up with.

Monday, and at least there is good news from the engineer. He doesn’t believe that there is a problem with head gasket or heat exchanger. He’ll check again when he changes the coolant. Relief all round, especially for the wallet.

We fitted in a quick visit to Malahide Castle, complete with another funny and informative guide.

John and Chris have left for domestic duties so James and Yee Tak are currently in charge before the old girl is lifted out on Wednesday for power wash and scrub, stern gland and cutlass bearing, to get her all ship shape for the cruise up to Coleraine in September.

With the genoa down and stowed below,  plus a final tidy up and polish, Heydays is ready to be left for a few weeks. We have time for a last walk out along the estuary just after low tide. An on-shore breeze seems to be creating some breakers over the sand bar at the entrance…note to selves for when we return…

We’ll return to the blog in a few weeks.

The engine has behaved itself so far although we have not used it much above a tickover. This, combined with the other bits and pieces which have arisen, convinces us that the sooner we can make it to Malahide (which was our planned stop anyway), the better. This will give us time to hopefully arrange for some work to be carried out before we return in September.

With that in mind, we nose away from the mooring in the early light and head out of the river, with only some cross gulls and a lone cyclist watching us go.

With a dead calm and a flat sea, we’re motoring slowly into the last of the ebb, before, hopefully, we catch the flood up to Dublin. The seascapes are beautiful…

…and there is still early morning mist over the Wicklow mountains…

As Arklow is left astern, we munch on some breakfast and another brew of coffee. We’ve opted for the inshore course along the coast, i.e., inside the many shoal banks which litter this part of Ireland. Some sea fog descends and for a short while we’re in our own circle of grey. But just as quickly as it came, it lifts and we’re back to counting headlands.

A small boat waves cheerily, heading in the opposite direction….against what is now quite a strong flood…and a few fishing boats appear….

A seal allows us to pass close by and just watches us with complete indifference…

With Wicklow now astern, we can start to see the headland of Dun Laogharie and beyond it, on the other side of Dublin Bay, the big lump of land that is Ben of Howth. We start to keep a watchful eye for ferries and larger stuff, both from Dun Laogharie and from Dublin itself.

As we’re about to cross the southern traffic separation zone, what was a speck on the horizon becomes ever larger. We alter course to pass it at 90 degrees and watch gratefully as its aspect changes and we see the port side, and it passes harmlessly astern. On the other side of the bay, a fast cat approaches, and this time we change course to pass well behind.

Ben of Howth is very distinctive and a positive hive of activity of small boats and dinghies…

Just north of Howth is the rocky island of Ireland’s Eye. Lots of gannets seem to use it as home and alongside the little terns of one sort or another, we think we spot a fulmar.

And then, with the very last of the north going tide, we’re on the approach to Malahide and a date with the engineer.

Trundling down the well marked channel, we pass beaches and swimmers and the kind of watery leisure activity not seen as much further south.

So finally, we’re moored up in Malahide marina, and a lovely welcome from the staff here. We get to speak to the engineer about the various issues we’ve got and they’ll come and look at the boat Friday or Monday morning.  They seem both knowledgeable and helpful, so hopefully we’ve got a way forward…perhaps.

It’s a shame that we’re here about 3 days early, not because this isn’t a great place, but because we have had to miss out on Courtown, Polduff and Wicklow…perhaps next time!

For now though, until 11 September, Heydays is snuggly tied up, and our sailing is over for a while.

Our little cruise along the South East and East coast of Ireland has been brilliant for the most part, not just the sailing and great places, but outstandingly for the warmth, wit and general friendliness of everyone we have met. Too many clichés spring to mind, but Ireland for us is great….although as Denise, the harbour master in Coleraine, makes clear, the best is yet to come. We look forward to planning north and then west around the Ulster coast in September.