North West 200 Weekend

The day started off with a slight mist, but clear skies – a good sign for the weather ahead. Even in the early morning with the sleep still in my eyes, I could feel the heat on my face as I stood at the back door with a cup of strong cafetiere coffee. Although there were no races due to take place on the Friday, it is often a good day to head up to the North West 200 as the atmosphere can be quite party like. The weather helps though, all too often it has lashed down and as a predominantly fair weather rider that is enough to put me off. I had collected the bike earlier in the week after getting a set of Hepco and Becker engine bars fitted, which also now acts as a convenient Go Pro mounting point, combined with all the other extras I have had fitted this spring and the full service, the bike is in fine shape.

Kivi and I duly set off, alas Dee was unable to come with us and set about parking at the Ulster Museum for another coffee. The café here is delightful, set in the museum overlooking Botanic Gardens. As we left, there was a flurry of Blue Tit song and we realised that a pair have nested in the air vent at ground level in the building – right where we had parked the bikes – the parents waiting impatiently with mealworms to feed the chirping young.

Leaving the Urban Sprawl

Billy McCutcheon was the next port of call, casting his approving eye over Kiv’s BMW R1100GS as well as my Tiger; I like leaving the bike in with Billy for anything and everything, he is someone I trust implicitly as well as having a mechanical skill that is genius, he is fastidious – something I admire and want in anyone looking at my bike, especially the oily bits! I cannot recommend him highly enough. The craic was ninety as we sat in Billy’s with Kivi waxing lyrical about camper vans. But the time to hit the causeway coast was upon us.

We made the mistake of taking the A8 towards Larne – down to single lane traffic from roadworks and the building of the new Larne to Belfast dual carriageway. But once through this, we were on the A2 coast road. There were bikes everywhere, both overtaking us at eye watering speeds, and also coming back down from the NW200. There were a lot of race bikes (Hondas, Kawasakis, Yamahas and the occasional BMW S1000RR) as you’d expect but riding alongside and together with touring bikes (BMW R1200GS, 1100 and 1150GS as well as Triumph Tigers from all eras and Goldwings). The roar and sounds of some of them settled my mind on my next purchase, a Remus exhaust!

We passed majestically under the limestone Carnlough ‘arch’ one of two still standing constructed to allow the tramway network to carry quarried material to the harbour. I include it as a waypoint on the Wikiloc route: http://en.wikiloc.com/wikiloc/view.do?id=6878600. The road immediately after sweeps through boulder fields and sea-hugging sweeping bends to small village after small village, to Waterfoot, Glenariff then Cushendall. Just outside Glenarriff is Red Bay Castle (Caislen Camus Rhuaidh), standing on a high point overlooking the road, its crumbling remains like a tired old man attempting to keep watch over the road and the coastal waters. The stone remains are built atop a motte with two irregular baileys on a promontory, possible the site of a much earlier promontory fort.

The stone castle show two phases, and the existence of a solid stone structure on the site before the construction of the one in 1563 built by Sir James MacDonnel is uncertain. The castle was wrecked by Shane O’Neill in 1565, rebuilt by Sorley Boy in 1568 and dismantled to repair Dunluce in 1604 before finally being wrecked by Cromwellian troops in 1652 (SMR ANT 020:010). Although the date of the stone structure is relatively uncertain, the presence of the motte and bailey[s] put the site in the mid Medieval period (12^th century...with the possibility of an earlier prehistoric promontory fort). Certainly its position is one that would have almost demanded fortification from the earliest times onwards, its strategic position on the coast significant for the then dominant Medieval port of Carrickfergus. 

We spiralled up the Antrim Glens, the road doubling back on itself in a series of tight twists and turns, second and even first gear corners. But the sun was shining and as it pierced through the trees, the shafts of light danced over the road. It’s amazing how the landscape changes here from the lush green glens to the mountain at Ballypatrick. Here it is a cacophony of browns with the heathers wind beaten – today was no different, the breeze off the Irish Sea was strong, compounded by having to overtake a large coach. But here, the road is simply glorious, easily handled bends that can be taken at speed, with long straights that splits through forests. I love this section and clearly there were many other bikers that did too. 

Ballycastle and Sandy Shores

As you approach Ballycastle, the ground seems....sandier somehow, I know that sounds bizarre, but to me it does. As you approach the golf course, keep an eye out on the left for Bonamargy Friary;

It is a late Franciscan foundation established in 1485 by Rory MacQuillan. It is said that the first battle between the warring MacDonnell and MacQuillan clans was fought on nearby land. Traces of an altar can still be found in the adjoining church, and the locked vaults hold the remains of the celebrated chieftain, Sorley Boy MacDonnell, and several of the earls of Antrim. His grandson Randal MacDonnell, 1st Marquess of Antrim, noted for his role in the War of the Three Kingdoms, is also buried there. Perhaps the Friary’s most famous resident was the 17th century prophet and recluse Julie MacQuillen. Known as ‘The Black Nun’, MacQuillen wished to be buried at the entrance of the chapel so that she might be trodden under the feet of those who entered. A worn celtic cross (rounded with a hole in the centre) marks her grave at the west end of the main church.

In Ballycastle, the number of bikes parked on pavements and on every inch of available space was breathtaking it seemed almost as though the town was bursting with bikes! It was here that we stopped for lunch, eating in a cafe overlooking the harbour and ferry port to Rathlin Island. By this stage my right (throttle) hand had started to go a bit numb at the thumb, so I was glad of the break as well as something to rehydrate me. The road from here was busier with normal vehicular traffic, so there was frequent overtaking as well as queues of bikes as we all waited to pass a ‘Sunday driver’. On more than one occasion it was obvious they were slowing, pointing and taking in the views rather than actually concentrating on the road, something as a biker is disconcerting! The road here can be, in small parts, a bit monotonous, with your view obstructed by hedges – when the hedges break though, the coastal vistas are amazing. The road splits into a mini one-way system for 100 metres at Dunluce Castle, and when you come up over the rise of the drumlin, you are greeted with one of the most impressive castle sights in northern Europe as it perches atop the sheer cliff. The ‘Dun’ in the name Dunluce combined with the presence of a souterrain on the site suggests an (initial) Early Christian period occupation on the headland. The earliest parts of the castle are probably 14^th Century; when the castle was badly damaged in 1584 it was subsequently repaired and extended but was decaying by the late 17^th century with parts of it even falling into the sea.

Dunluce Castle (Dún Libhse)

The rectangular mainland court has 17^th century buildings and leads down to a gatehouse of Scottish style which was once reached by a drawbridge. Apart from the north-east and south-east towers and parts of the curtain wall, most buildings visible date to the 16^th and 17^th centuries with a rock cut souterrain sealed by a 14^th century tower (SMR ANT 002:003). Recent excavations have revealed an associated ‘town’ in the fields adjacent to the castle site. On the biking front, by now there was a flurry of activity on the roads, with streams of bike headlights coming and going in both directions. Once clear of the occasional car, the view over the coast line from the sheer cliff road was staggering; in this fine weather the waters were a turquoise shade of blue, the image good enough to grace any postcard. The views to the Skerries from above White Rocks beach were just phenomenal. As we descended into Portrush you realise just how much the North West 200 takes over the place, the sights and the smells – they are all there. We went up to the main coast road section between Portrush and Portstewart where the pits are located. We parked up and when you turn round different engine notes almost confuse your hearing, the whole site has a franticness to it such is the frenetic pace. We bought passes to the classic bike show, which displayed 1924 James’, 1929 Norton’s.....everything you could want. A truly unforgettable experience.   

My journey home was undertaken alone, with Kivi heading back up to Derry. I had, initially, decided to take the main motorway route home and simply blast back to Belfast, but I remembered a site plan I had looked at before the Friday run as a potential route. So I turned off the motorway and headed towards Broughshane and was pleasantly surprised. The village[s] were quiet, and I was virtually the only person on the road! The whole area has something of a rural and agricultural feel to it, through tree-lined roads with twists and sweeping bends led to more a open, rugged and exposed landscape, with jagged bedrock creeping through the tall grassy outcrops. To my right I saw the protruding Antrim mountain that I think is the location of the prehistoric Tievebulliagh axe-factory. As I descended back down to the main A2 coast road I was in my element, the road descended gently to the beach at Carnlough, and I retraced my steps along the coast road home, with the sun starting to set, the views were even more magnificent, and the cooling temperatures soothed me as I had been in my leathers all day. What a way to spend a Friday!