The Back Roads to Shrigley

Another fine day, so another chance to don the leathers and head out on the bike. The heat was all consuming, a rare event in Ireland! But one that when it comes you don’t moan about as all too often you are looking forlornly out of a window at ashen skies and mizzle, the type that doesn’t look that bad but soaks you through when you’re in it. My new haunt of the Co. Down roads towards Downpatrick are awesome, but I fancied a change and decided to go wherever the wind took me, a state of mind in itself that is rather freeing. I knew that I would head through Lisbane to Balloo and then turn right along a phenomenal road that I had encountered last time I was out by sheer chance….after that I wasn’t sure.

I could feel the heat coming up through the tarmac, which gives you confidence as the warm road surface helps the tyre adhere really well. The grip was confidence inspiring. The roads seemed to be fairly busy, but in the opposite direction, so I had long straights inviting me with their heat haze shimmering, the small crests and dips were inviting me to come and play. At the end of the road outside Balloo, for no particular reason, I turned left (heading approximately south). I passed a small church, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with headstones from another age…..maybe at one time it served a vibrant community, but any trace of them was gone and these inscribed slabs of granite and sandstone were all that was left of them. The world moves on, and that was a source of pain for me once….that no matter how much you think the world should stop and say ‘isn’t that awful’….it doesn’t, it simply carries on oblivious to the pain you are in. It’s the single point that the Victorians found abhorrent about Darwin’s theory….not that evolution took place, but that it showed that nature was cruel and everything was locked in a vicious struggle for survival, rather than the romanticized frolicking in the countryside antithesis.

Once I was on this road, I was immediately struck by the sheer beauty of the rolling drumlin countryside in which I found myself. Occasionally shocked by a bird that flew out directly in front of me from the hedgerows. The occasional outcrop of trees arched over the road to provide rest bite from the sun and even though my sun visor was down, my eyes were able to see more clearly without the glare. On the Clea Lough Road, I (not surprisingly) passed a series of small loughs. They shimmered through the hedges, and I could see swans swimming on the flat calm surface. I immediately wanted to pull over to stop and take it in, but I couldn’t find a place to pull in and there appeared to be no roads (on this westerly side of them) to lead me to the shore[s]. I still think they would make an excellent location for a picnic, or even a quick pit stop. So more research will have to be done here to see how I can get to them.

I passed through small hamlets, sometimes with a small church associated with them and I can't help but imagine what these places would have been like in their hay-day (probably the 19th Century). My father always said I would like to have lived in another time, but the key point is you need to have lived with money.....being 'poor' in the 19th Century (like any time) would have been grim. I found myself entering a village I had never been to before....Shrigley. I was immediately struck by the rolling countryside in which it sat, but there was a strange dissatisfaction with the place. I pulled in at a lovely monument, a small clock tower it seemed to me, with a large mill chimney as it's backdrop behind the greenery.

However, the village appeared to consist of 1960's housing estate dwellings, and on further research I found that the village once was rather picturesque. The original village and the associated mill workers cottages were swept away and a sense of a modern ugly transposition is right in your face. Indeed, the Ulster Architectural Society have stated: "There is no variety, and there is no attempt to provide any kind of focus or heart to the community. There is not one element in the new estate which preserves or even recalls the identity of the old village; it is entirely inappropriate to its setting in the rolling drumlin country side of County Down." Quite sad then that all that remains is the monument. I also discovered that this was built to commemorate John Martin who built the original cotton mill. The monument was built in 1871 and designed by Timothy Hevey. It is a beautiful piece (to my mind), but beauty is in the eye of the beholder! The Ulster Architectural Society describe it as: "A remarkably imposing monument of brown stone, in three layers; the design has much in common with, but is rather grander than, the Rossmore Memorial of about the same date in the Diamond of Monaghan town. The base, surrounded by iron railings, originally with an elaborate lamp at each corner, is square. Upon this, an octagonal arcade of round-headed arches, carried on columns with Ruskinian foliated capitals, surrounds the central shaft which incorporates the drinking-fountain. Above this rises a square tower, supported by eight flying buttresses springing from pinnacles; in each face is a triple pointed opening divided by small foliate-capitalled columns. Above these openings are large circular oculi in which the clock (now entirely disappeared) displayed its four faces. The tower is surmounted by acute angled gable-pediments, with five-lobed ogee centre pieces; four corner pinnacles, the crockets now missing; and a pyramidal roof terminating in ornate cresting." (ibid). Although the village might leave something to be desired, the road to get there dominates my memory, and the joy I had on that road overcomes any sense of architectural disappointment. I continued south only to discover I was soon at the side entrance to Killyleagh Castle, flanked by beautifully shaped trees.

I had never approached the town from this side, and it came upon me quickly and unexpectedly. But it was a pleasant surprise. I parked up at the front entrance, the bike bouncing on the cobbled roadway. The castle has something of a Disney quality to it....the (later) added turrets and crenelations give it an Errol Flynn Robin Hood appearance. But the original castle was, iteself, a plantation home, rather than a medieval structure. There was a family picnicking on the front lawn, and immediately the small boy had eyes like the moon at the bike. Although in my leathers, I was quickly starting to boil in my own juices, I struck up a conversation with the father: "ahhh he loves the bikes". So I asked if he had ever sat on one....an excited shake of the head told me he hadn't. So I told the father to sit him on the bike. The sheer excitement was shown by the boys limbs visibly shaking! I made sure the bike was in neutral and told him to push the starter button, the bike roared into life. More excitement. However, when I told him to gently squeeze back the throttle, he grabbed it up to 9000 rpm (close to the bike's 10,000 rpm red line). He soon was lifted off!! I made my way out of Killyleagh, keen to get some airflow around my body. I rode with the Shark helmet visor and half face all the way up. The warm smell of grasses and wildflower permeated the air, and I was glad for some refreshing breeze, even if the air itself was slightly hot.

It's amazing how the good weather seems to put everyone in a good mood.....people waved as I drove past them, and all along the route there seemed to be people out cutting grass or hedges, they blurred past me as I twisted the throttle. Hopefully the weather will keep up and Nicola and I can get a picnic out on the bike.....must remind her to ensure the thermal lining is out of her bike gear!!