The Day We Saw Puffins

We had been told The Gobbins was an experience ‘not to be missed’ while in Northern Island, so we had eagerly booked it before watching the YouTube video of someone being drenched by huge waves as they walked the apparently treacherous cliff path. 

It was with some trepidation then, that we packed up and set off from our Belfast accommodation at the appointed time of 8:30 this morning, all rugged up against the anticipated wind, waterproof layers on to protect us from the waves, and drove 40 minutes along the stunning coast road. At the visitors centre we were given our safety briefing, had our hiking boots checked for ankle support, and donned helmets,  before 15 brave souls, plus guide, hopped aboard the shuttle bus which would take us to the trail head for the 3 mile cliff walk. 

Photos were taken at the Gobbins Gate before we ducked through into the unknown and began our journey up steps, down steps, across a variety of bridges spanning cliffs, and through caves. 

Today there was no wind, and only calm seas. Before we had gone far we were removing clothing layers and enjoying the views, learning about the history, geology and bird life of the path, a replica of the one built here in the early 1900’s by an enterprising engineer who set out to promote tourism and the railways by providing outdoor destinations for people to enjoy. 

Just around the final bend at the end of the track, I found what I had long been looking for - a puffin breeding ground, high on the side of a cliff. There were a multitude of seabirds flying, nesting, feeding and calling, but it was the puffin we had all hoped to see and we weren’t disappointed. The iPhone camera did not do them justice, but the highlight of my walk was finally seeing puffins in the wild. 

It was here we had to turn around and retrace our steps over the bridges, down into the deep dark cave, up and down stone stairways and finally the long, steep climb up the track to the road and the waiting shuttle bus. Back at the visitor centre we enjoyed lunch and a well-deserved coffee before setting off in search of the next adventure. 

We found it an hour or so north at Dunluce Castle, where the first challenge was getting into the carpark without being crushed by a tourist bus, the second was getting out of said carpark without being crushed by a tourist bus and the third was finding a park on a quiet road away from the madding crowd. This done, we stepped from the car before  quickly diving for extra layers and warm headwear against the cold and blustery wind on the headland. 

We had a quick look at the castle ruins, took the obligatory photos and set off at pace for the warmth of the car, continuing the drive along the coast in the direction of Magilligan Point. On the way we were lured to a stop by a sign intriguingly named Downhill Demasne, Bishops Gate Lodge, and Mussenden Temple, all of which existed on an old estate with wild and extensive gardens now operated by the National Trust. 

Further on at Magilligan Point we found a Martello Tower which dated back to Napoleonic times. It was about this time we realised we wouldn’t be at our accommodation to check in at 5 as arranged, so Julie rang to organise a slightly later check in. There was some confusion over the name the booking was in, but we were given a door lock code and we continued on our way.

When we arrived in the pretty coastal town of Portballintrae at 5:45, we could not find a panel to input our code and we wandered around in some  confusion for a few minutes before Mark again rang the number we had for the accommodation. It was then that it became clear we had the wrong phone number and the person we had called earlier to explain our late arrival, was not in fact the host at the apartment we had booked!  At this moment someone called Joyce popped out of a door looking for someone called Robin. Boy were we glad to see her. 

We all laughed about the mix up as Joyce and husband Dennis welcomed us into their homely apartment, mainly lived in by their children and grandchildren over the summer, and rented out to tourists at other times. For a while we weren’t sure if we were sharing the rooms with Joyce and Dennis, but having explained everything and shown us the extensive food supply they had got in for us, they left for their home some 15 minutes away and we quickly regrouped, heading downstairs to the pub for a tasty dinner. 

We have since availed ourselves of the washing machine and gazed out the windows as the sun set over the North Atlantic while puzzling over tomorrow’s logistics.