It was, it seems, fated that the bike run to retrace some of the steps in Valhalla and the Fjord would take place on the one clear day in a week of (ongoing) storms! Kivi had suggested the route, as he had travelled up to Belfast, rather than me going to Derry. Fair play to him, as the weather on the Wednesday night was, literally, awful; exceptionally strong winds and heavy rain. As he said when I met up with him at my house: "It was like driving with someone with a hose on full blast in front of me." His Dainese 'Bruce' jacket though had, apparently, been more than able to cope. Looking at the sky, I had thought my newly bought Dainese would also have the chance to prove itself, but it wasn't to be.
We couldn't believe our luck when there wasn't a cloud in the sky on Thursday morning, and duly set out towards Comber. Hunger, though, soon caught hold and we stopped in Sugarcane for a fry (not the healthiest of options, but my logic was that as it was still exceptionally cold, we would burn off the calories!). Shortly outside Comber, we turned onto the Ballydrain Road towards Mahee Island and the sublime remains of Nendrum Monastic Site. Kivi had been here on a University fieldtrip, but had not been back since. For me, it remains a location I come to when I need time to think or simply to gain a little head space. We were the only ones there, although we were nearly blown off the top! Kivi pointed out the exceptionally small scale of the stone line graves, truly tiny. Something I hadn't noticed or thought of before. By now the bikes were caked in the dirty water and mud particles that lay all over the road[s] from the preceeding storms and rain, suddenly I thought that I hadn't 'ACF50'd' the bike in a while, and it would definitely need some after this!
I remembered the smaller back roads past Tullynakill Church towards Sketrick Castle that we took on the ABR Ireland Rally in May 2014. But either with the passage of time, or maybe I wasn't paying attention at the time, I forgot just how technically challenging they can be, and Kivi's BMW R80RT is not really designed for them, my Tiger is more suited, but even then, I am not a technical rider; I am more of a meander[er] despite my love of speed! Outside Killinchy I decided to get back onto the main A22 Comber Road, heading south towards Killyleagh. The roads are busier as a result, but are still single lane ribbons of tarmac laid over the rolling drumlin countryside. At this stage, our speed was low anyway to enable us both to look around. As we neared the outskirts of Downpatrick, glimpses of the Mourne Mountains are tantalising, almost teasing and begging you to carry the journey on further towards them. Although I have no doubt it will not be long before we are back there, camping at Meelmore! Outside Downpatrick, there is a sweeping 90 degree left hand turn over the Quoile River, left taking you towards the splendid road to Strangford Town. We went right, towards Downpatrick and our next destination: Inch Abbey.
Inch Abbey is, historically, aesthetically and in jsut about every way exceptionally interesting, I wrote extensively about it is Valhalla and the Fjord. But it recently was also used to shoot several scenes of HBO's 'Game of Thrones'. It is a shame though, that towards the lake and reeds, litter (mainly beer tins and cider bottles) are everywhere, caught around branches and blowing along the ground. The view and whole setting is magnificent, so this is something of a blight. After leaving Inch we travelled non-stop to Strangford Town, to catch the brief and quaint ferry over to Portaferry. The roads towards Strangford are, again, single lane, but in the main well surfaced and they entice you to twist the throttle. Enclosed in large parts by hedgerows, there isn't really awful lot to see, but as it approached Strangford Town, the landscape flattens out and the lough shore encroaches on the road. Approached by a causeway, Strangford has managed to retain its small village feel, but the economic downturn has not been kind; restaurants have closed and as with most small towns and villages, the spending by Stormont on their upkeep has waned, the results are becoming increasingly visible. This is also the case for the roads, which increasingly are mroe pot-holed and less well lit, money for repairs and even replacement bulbs apparently gone from the public purse (yet a Special Advisor or Permanent Secretary still earns a fortune with a guilt-edged pension - go figure!).
After the brief ferry ride over to Portaferry, the light began to fade, although still dry, it was exceptionally cold (the Dainese performed flawlessly though), so we decided to battle our way up the eastern shore back towards Belfast. The eastern (peninsula) shore is, for me, less pretty than the western side, I am sure there are those that would disagree, but I have always felt that way. I was glad to show Kivi my 'neck of the woods' perhaps part payment for all the times he has led me through Donegal. I cannot wait to plan the next (longer) trip away!
