Day 19
Another busy day.
First, before I forget, I have found out more about Mr. Alcock. He went to school with the late King Hussein of Jordan and was asked, years later, by the CIA to take part in a war game. The purpose of the exercise was to try and work out what would happen if Israel and her Arab neighbours went to war. The exercise took place in May 1967. Mr. Alcock wouldn’t tell me the result, claiming security issues. I reckon it is probably a result of official embarrassment due to a wrong prediction!
This evening, he has given me a copy of Understanding Ulster. Mary gave me a series of post cards that she has made using computer imagery techniques from photos she took of the area’s coastline (including many places that I have seen). It seems she is a very good photographer as well as a great cook.
She has produced a series called From Lough Foyle To Fair Head. Fair Head is a couple of miles east of Ballycastle and is pretty much the northwest corner of Ireland. Although that area of land is rounded, one cannot go much further east without hitting water, and soon after, Scotland. The land runs in a southeasterly direction and eventually meets Belfast Lough. In her series of about thirty scenes, the most westerly photo is of Inishowen (in the distance) taken from Magilligan Point, which is almost directly opposite Greencastle. In Trinity, Lettershambo Castle, which features in the last section of the novel, is on Magilligan Strand, which is a flat plain in a triangular shape about four miles long, the apex of which is the point of the same name.
After scanning the photos into her computer, she has manipulated the images into a kind of blur. The end result looks like a watercolour in the Impressionist style. It is a very good effect. The pictures have been printed onto cards, in two different sizes. Quite impressive and very professional.
She is in the process of setting up her own company to market these cards. It is called Roselick Design.
These people have been so nice to me. Once again I am finding myself in a position where I am completely unable to repay the kindness that I have been shown.
I got up at 7:20 and had breakfast, etc and was taken by Mary to the train station at 8 ish.
The 8:25 train to Derry was £7 return and went along the coastline, revealing more of this area’s fields, cliffs and beauties. The train line generally followed the coast. From Coleraine, it followed the River Bann until the sea and then west. It went through a long tunnel under a curious building called the Mussenden Temple. This was built some time ago - I don’t know when - by a raving mad brother of the Protestant Bishop of (I think) Londonderry. The family were also the local landlords, so money was no problem. The brother decided to start up his own religion and built the ‘temple,' which is really just a folly built on the cliff top.
When the train leaves the tunnel, it is possible to catch a glimpse of the folly. I was facing backwards (as there was a great looking chick on the opposite seat) and I was able to see it for a fleeting moment. Apparently (I found out later) it is crumbling due the constant vibrations caused by trains running through the tunnel underneath.
It was a cloudy morning and I could see rain about the place (including over the lough in Donegal) in the same type of ‘solid’ clouds that I experienced while riding back form Buncrana on my third or fourth day here. However, the rain didn’t fall on the train over the Magilligan Plain. Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.
The Lough Foyle’s shore on the Donegal side is fairly straight, however on the County Derry side it bulges out to be quite wide towards the south. As the shore approaches Derry-town, it narrows sharply and becomes the River Foyle, although it remains tidal for some miles. After crossing the Magilligan Strand, the train was rarely far away from the shoreline and, once we reached the river, I was able to clearly see the other side and had an occasional glimpse of the road that I rode on the other day. We passed behind the big factory that I saw on my first night from the other side. It is a Dupont factory – it makes paint, apparently. As we passed it, just before some houses, I saw Culmore Point and the Yacht Club at the very tip. Unfortunately, I didn’t see the beach that I camped on.
As we were passing through the outer suburbs, the rain started - which wasn’t encouraging, but it stopped before the train terminated at Derry station.
I am happy to say that for the rest of the day, it didn’t rain at all. Which isn’t to say it was all that pleasant. Today’s temperature never got above 1ºC, and the wind was fairly strong all day. My trusty Kathmandu served me well all day. I think I took it off once, no ... twice.
Just outside the train station was a bus that took train passengers across the river for free, so I jumped on this and was deposited outside the bus station.
Both Iris and Maire had recommended the Tower Museum to me. They said it explained the history of Derry and was well balanced, avoiding any sectarian bias. I wanted to see it just for that; I didn’t think that would be possible in this country. Mary and Antony had both heard of it, but told me (in a dismissive voice) that they hadn’t been there and hadn’t heard all that much about it.
Asking various street vendors I found it - about ten metres further on then I had wandered the other day looking for the library. I had about an hour before the doors opened at 10 am, so I turned around and wandered through the largely deserted Old City and found a post office. I spent £2.10 posting some previous days of this journal, plus a few knick-knacks that I have picked up along the way (like pamphlets, etc) and continued.
The Old City is in no way like my imagining of old cities (ie. Jerusalem or Acco). The walls themselves have been modified over the years and the top is now a nicely paved walk. The gates have all been widened to allow two lanes of traffic through and the original stonework has to be pointed out by the information signs dotted around.
The inside of the city has modern shops everywhere and the only older buildings are the truly old, the cathedral, St. Augustine’s Church, the Apprentice Boys’ Hall, etc. It is very small and can be crossed in no time at all. The walls are only a mile in length. Each street within the walled city is at right angles to the others. In the middle is the town’s diamond, which now has a war memorial placed in the middle of it.
I found St. Columb’s (Protestant) Cathedral and walked around it and into the foyer. This cathedral played a small but exciting role in Trinity. While Conor and Seamus were in Derry with their fathers, they snuck into the church during a service. It was the middle of marching season at this point, so every one’s juices were stirred up. They got caught and ended up instigating a riot, sort of. There was nothing special about the building itself (seen one cathedral, seen them all) but since it featured in the book, it was good to see it. From the foyer, I looked through the doors to try and see where the boys hid. I didn’t actually enter the church as that would have cost me £1, and I refuse to pay money to enter a church. I wandered around the outside of the church, looking at all the old gravestones (old!) and also to see if I could find any doors that might lead into the interior of the church. The lads in the novel crept into a door around the back of the church. I saw a door, and I guess it could have been the door that Mr. Uris had in mind, but it was nice and newly painted, so I didn’t really get the impression I was looking for.
Trinity says that St. Columba was the local saint, and about half the places in Donegal and Derry were named for him. I guess Mr. Uris added an ‘a’ to the end of St. Columb’s name, as I have only seen it spelt the short way.
I kept wandering and slowly made my way to the Tower Museum and arrived about five minutes before opening time. Along the alley outside the entrance, a good ten or fifteen street vendors were in the process of setting up for the day. These were the same people that I asked the directions to the library from the other day. They were selling the usual crap that these people sell - cheap earrings, bad T-shirts, usually with an American Indian motif, etc. The same type of caravans and shelters were being used that are used the world over. I wandered, faking interest for five minutes, and then saw movement behind the door of the museum. I arrived at the door just as it was being opened.
Since I was incredibly cold, I determined to stay in there as long as possible.
The museum tells the history of Derry, from the monastery set amongst an oak tree woodland by St. Columb to the modern day Troubles.
I am not going to write down the whole history, as it would take absolutely ages. The museum was very impressive. Using models, displays, paintings and slide shows, it showed the growth of Derry through the ages. From a primitive monastery to the first buildings, to colonisation in the Elizabethan age, to Cromwell’s campaign. It touched on the Famine, and the mass emigration that took place from here. The events leading up to Home Rule and the War of Independence. A final segment was a film showing the events that led to the Troubles. It was basically one guy talking and, rather than telling the facts and figures, he was simply regretting the impact it has had on the communities and families of the city. It had to be rather vague, as any fact specifically stated could be thought by one party as biased to another.
The rest of the museum, however, was very informative and unbiased. All facts of the history were simply given, without making any comment on whether the person or party that caused them to happen were right or wrong.
Also, I knew a lot of facts and stories about the city, but the Tower Museum put them all in chronological order. I learnt some new things about the siege and the Apprentice Boys and also that Doire means ‘oak grove’ in Irish.
I left the museum at 12:30 after spending a warm two and a half hours there.
A quick wander through the ‘craft village’ set me on my way out of the area. The Craft Village was an attempt to turn an area that was once No Man's Land during the '70s into a turn-of-the-century village with lots of (overpriced tourist) shops.
I wandered for a bit and, after following the signs, found the tourist information centre. There was quite a lot of literature there about the various places in Northern Ireland. I picked up a pamphlet telling me all about what is on in Derry.
The pamphlet opens up to a map of Derry. It lists a couple of places. Apart from the Tower Museum, the most interesting looking place was the Market House, a museum all about the Famine and the Linen Mill industry of last century. Both of these issues featured heavily in Trinity. Unfortunately, this museum is closed on Fridays. What type of museum is closed on Fridays but opened all weekend? Stranger, I thought, was that the museum was well into to Protestant side of the town. I would have thought that these issues would have been researched by people leaning towards a more nationalist view.
Derry is pretty much divided into two halves. The eastern half is called Waterside, the western half is the Bogside. The river separates the two. The Walled City is on the Bogside, which had always been the Nationalist/Catholic area, as much as the Waterside is the Protestant/Loyalist stronghold. The fact that the old city is a traditional site for Loyalists has been a thorn in the side of any peace loving people. When the Orange Orders hold their marches there every year, the Catholic majority resents it, to put it mildly. Added to that, the hot headed people on the Nationalist side who retaliate with stones, beatings or worse, and the situation just adds fuel to the already hot fire. This is repeated all over Northern Ireland, where Orange marches go through Nationalist area (ie. Garvaghy Road), but Londonderry is the ‘holy city’ for Irish Protestantism.
I went to the desk clerk and asked him about the Genealogy centre, which was mentioned in the pamphlet. I was hoping to find information about Whitecastle.
Without looking anything up he told me that Inishowen was granted to a Norman Knight Richard De Burgo, whose nephew, Walter, built the original Whitecastle in 1350. It was destroyed in 1566 and later the house that is now there was built. Unfortunately the man didn’t know anything about the modern (!) house.
Then he said that the Genealogy centre was closed due to refurbishment, but that if I wanted to find out anything about anything in the Republic, I would have to go to Dublin, even if the place I was finding out about was in Ulster.
I thanked him and kept wandering aimlessly. It was time for a meal, so I walked to the Bogside area of the city, though not actually in Bogside (which I think is an actual suburb as well as an area) and entered a pub. A £1.90 Guinness and a £3.50 meal followed and filled me up nicely.
The pub had the tricolour in it and had Irish written every where - it wasn’t just for the tourists, either, as it was full of locals and I was the only tourist. I felt quite revolutionary.
While I was waiting for the food, it started hailing lightly outside. Then it really started hailing. It was very heavy. Although the hailstones weren’t that big, the noise they made when they came down killed all conversation in the pub. Everyone just turned to the window and sipped their pints in silence. Across the narrow, paved and steep road, I saw four people huddle in a doorway, trying to find shelter. Silly people. There was plenty of room in the pub, and it was a lot warmer in there.
I was determined to find the Bogside. In the pub I discreetly looked at the map and worked out a way to walk. It wasn’t long before I entered a heavily Nationalist area with big wall murals demanding the release of the POWs and the likewise.
Since I was in the Bogside, I walked along with a hard expression on my face and the beanie pulled low over my eyebrows. It was difficult to look tough as the ground was white and crunchy and - at times - quite slippery. Growing up in Darwin, I still love hail and frosts and think that the sound of the ground crunching while I walk is fantastic. I guess I will get used to it in Sweden. I felt like giggling with glee, not being tough.
I passed the Bloody Sunday memorial, which was a bit of a surprise. It was fenced off, with barbed wire topping the heavy iron gate. I guess that is to stop any Loyalist kid with a spray can defacing it. The authorities probably only open it on Bloody Sunday (30th of January), which I think is a shame.
I have long heard of the Free Derry Corner, but not known too much about it. The mural is simply a white wall, with large black letters reading: YOU ARE NOW ENTERING FREE DERRY. As far as I know, it is painted on the side of a house, which has now been knocked down, as only the white wall remains, with a couple of supports on the other side to hold it up. I guess during one of the riots the area was declared Free Derry. There were big riots in 1972, I think. The map in my pamphlet said that this was the Free Derry Corner. On the map, there wasn’t all that much beyond this point. It showed St. Eugene’s Cathedral further north but closer to the river. I would have loved to have a copy of Trinity right there, as Conor lived for a time in the Bogside, and there were lots of sites that I could have made my Trinity pilgrimage to! Never mind. The area looked a little rough - an understatement - so I decided to head up to the city again. There was no need to delve further into the area.
I passed housing estates with barbed wire gates as entrances and other places that would have been guarded by the IRA in times past. All the movies I have seen that have shown scenes like this are true; In The Name Of The Father and The Boxer are good examples. It was quite amazing.
Quite exciting. However, I guess it is the last bit of Trinity pilgrimage I will be able to do. I can’t go to Belfast, however I guess if I spend a couple of days in Dublin, I will be able to see a couple of sites there that are mentioned in the book.
At some point I passed one of those cheap shops and went in looking for gloves. My blue gloves have been falling apart at an increasing rate. Both index fingers poked through and holes in each of the thumbs were getting much larger by the hour. Other holes were appearing as well. I was too embarrassed to take them with me when I went touring with Mary yesterday as they were in such bad condition; so I simply froze my hands instead.
I bought a pair of gloves for £1.89. They aren’t good quality but are fairly warm and will last me through to the end of Sweden, I hope.
More wandering. I went back up the main road in the walled city and entered the City Hall. The pamphlet had told me how magnificent this building was with its stained glass windows and all. True, the windows were pretty good, but they didn’t move me much. I guess this would be a building where a tour book or guide would come in handy. I went into a fairly important looking room, with a big dais, a series of windows and a very good iron sculpture covering the entire wall behind the stage. All the windows reeked of Protestantism, featuring the Red Hand of Ulster and the occasional white steed. Although the Red Hand of Ulster is the official symbol of the province of Ulster, it has been pretty much taken up by Loyalists and is now a symbol of the Protestant parties and armies. The UDA’s symbol is a red hand.
The story behind the Red Hand is a bit of a guess. I have heard of a story before I came to Ireland - years ago, in fact - but since coming here I have asked all sorts of people and no one has been able to give me an answer. I expected a whole range of answers (I am getting used to the Irish) but instead, I haven’t heard one.
The one I heard makes a bit of sense, sort of.
I have no idea what period of history this takes place in, but is probably pre-Celtic.
A long, long time ago, there were two brothers from Scotland - princes - who agreed to a race. They decided that they would race each other to Ireland, the reward for the first brother to grasp the sand of Ireland would be sovereignty over the land.
At one point, Scotland is only nine miles from the coast of Scotland. Ulster is protected from the rest of Ireland by a mountain range, and so traditionally, it has been either the first to be invaded, or the last to hold out from invasion from the south.
Anyway, these brothers started racing. I don’t know if they were swimming or in boats; that is something that I will have to find out at one stage. They were getting close to the shore, and one of the brothers was lagging behind. He realised that his sibling would beat him to the shore, so he drew his sword and hacked off his right hand. With his remaining hand, he through the severed limb with all his might towards the shore. It flew over his brother’s head and landed on the sand. The single-handed brother was the first to grasp the sands of Ireland, and hence he was crowned the king of Ulster.
The reason I believe that this story predates the Celtic invasion is that the Celts believed that the ruler had to be perfect. If he lost an eye or a hand in combat, he would have to step down - which actually meant that he would be killed, and his blood poured over the next leader, an idea that fostered the belief that the leader was immortal, that he was reborn with every new leader.
From the entrance to the Town Hall, I watched the hail come again; covering the old stones that had yet to melt. The whole place was covered with white, and looked great.
I was wandering blindly now (it was about 2 pm) and ended up in a shopping centre for warmth. I realised that this was ridiculous - here I was in a historic town that I may never have a chance to see again - certainly it will be a long time before I am so lucky - so I went and sat down on a toilet, pulled out the pamphlet and looked for places of interest that were cheap and open.
I decided upon a course of action. I would go up to the library (nearby) and find Trinity to look up the maps given and have a bit of a read to find some street names, etc. Then, via the city walls, I would go to the Butcher’s Gate (closest to the Bogside) and walk up to St. Eugene’s (Catholic) Cathedral. I had read that the inside of the cathedral was covered with beautiful mosaic, and that its carillon had 39 bells. I hoped that this would take a bit of time up, as I had to wait until 5:10 for the train back to Coleraine.
The library didn’t have Trinity - I guess that such a book is a little to biased for such a sensitive town - and the cathedral was just a cathedral. I didn’t see a grand bell tower, or even a small mosaic. I sat in solemn silence for five minutes and left. I had an hour and a half to fill in with nothing to do.
The walls had a number of signs for people like me making the walk around the mile. They generally referred to the siege of Derry by the forces of King James, who eventually lost (Apprentice Boys’ Day is one of the highlights of the Orange marching season and commemorates the start of the siege). Another of the signs however, told how up until some time this century, the suburbs of the Bogside had reached right up to Derry’s walls. Now there was nice, manicured grass rising in a gentle slope. This had worried me, as more than once, Trinity mentioned how the Protestant kids used to throw copper coins down at the Catholic drunks at the base of the wall. More than once it used this as a symbol of the hopelessness of the Bogside, which was largely the result of Protestant Ulsterism (The book is a little biased on the side of the nationalists).
I went back to the same pub and had a plate of chips (£1.30) and another Guinness (£1.90), I finished them slowly and made my way back to the train station in a slow walk. By this time, it was dark and the Christmas lights were showing. They were quite pretty, especially when I was in Waterside, as the lights on the clock tower, town hall and city walls (from across the river) were nicely reflected on the river. On the way I saw a big linen factory that has survived since the last century and thought of Witherspoon and McNab, the main linen factory in Trinity.
Dinner was once again exceptional and the hosts once again plied me with Guinness and offers of freedom of the fridge.
I forgot to mention; the Tower cost £3.75, which brought today’s spending to £23.35!
However, the £10 given to me by the Doherty’s helps and I went to a cash machine to check my balance. I didn’t find a Lloyds bank all day - or any other bank that I had seen in England for that matter, I guess they aren’t here for the same reason as the political parties. I found a machine outside the Bank of Ulster, and just like the bank in Moville, it wouldn’t let me have an account balance without withdrawing money. I withdrew £10 and found I had £70 left. (Yates’s last pay packet!). Hoorah! After the thought of spending lots of money, common sense pervaded and I realised that here was the emergency money that I had not brought with me. So the £4 per day budget continues, but at least I have an emergency fund if I need it. On saying that, knowing my own weakness at saving, I will probably end up spending the damn money. I have lived on £4 out of necessity, not choice.
In the evening, I was able to check my e-mail using the Alcock’s computer, so I wrote a quick message to everyone.
Now I am quite exhausted. I am trying to gear myself up for a big ride tomorrow. God help me!
First, before I forget, I have found out more about Mr. Alcock. He went to school with the late King Hussein of Jordan and was asked, years later, by the CIA to take part in a war game. The purpose of the exercise was to try and work out what would happen if Israel and her Arab neighbours went to war. The exercise took place in May 1967. Mr. Alcock wouldn’t tell me the result, claiming security issues. I reckon it is probably a result of official embarrassment due to a wrong prediction!
This evening, he has given me a copy of Understanding Ulster. Mary gave me a series of post cards that she has made using computer imagery techniques from photos she took of the area’s coastline (including many places that I have seen). It seems she is a very good photographer as well as a great cook.
She has produced a series called From Lough Foyle To Fair Head. Fair Head is a couple of miles east of Ballycastle and is pretty much the northwest corner of Ireland. Although that area of land is rounded, one cannot go much further east without hitting water, and soon after, Scotland. The land runs in a southeasterly direction and eventually meets Belfast Lough. In her series of about thirty scenes, the most westerly photo is of Inishowen (in the distance) taken from Magilligan Point, which is almost directly opposite Greencastle. In Trinity, Lettershambo Castle, which features in the last section of the novel, is on Magilligan Strand, which is a flat plain in a triangular shape about four miles long, the apex of which is the point of the same name.
After scanning the photos into her computer, she has manipulated the images into a kind of blur. The end result looks like a watercolour in the Impressionist style. It is a very good effect. The pictures have been printed onto cards, in two different sizes. Quite impressive and very professional.
She is in the process of setting up her own company to market these cards. It is called Roselick Design.
These people have been so nice to me. Once again I am finding myself in a position where I am completely unable to repay the kindness that I have been shown.
I got up at 7:20 and had breakfast, etc and was taken by Mary to the train station at 8 ish.
The 8:25 train to Derry was £7 return and went along the coastline, revealing more of this area’s fields, cliffs and beauties. The train line generally followed the coast. From Coleraine, it followed the River Bann until the sea and then west. It went through a long tunnel under a curious building called the Mussenden Temple. This was built some time ago - I don’t know when - by a raving mad brother of the Protestant Bishop of (I think) Londonderry. The family were also the local landlords, so money was no problem. The brother decided to start up his own religion and built the ‘temple,' which is really just a folly built on the cliff top.
When the train leaves the tunnel, it is possible to catch a glimpse of the folly. I was facing backwards (as there was a great looking chick on the opposite seat) and I was able to see it for a fleeting moment. Apparently (I found out later) it is crumbling due the constant vibrations caused by trains running through the tunnel underneath.
It was a cloudy morning and I could see rain about the place (including over the lough in Donegal) in the same type of ‘solid’ clouds that I experienced while riding back form Buncrana on my third or fourth day here. However, the rain didn’t fall on the train over the Magilligan Plain. Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.
The Lough Foyle’s shore on the Donegal side is fairly straight, however on the County Derry side it bulges out to be quite wide towards the south. As the shore approaches Derry-town, it narrows sharply and becomes the River Foyle, although it remains tidal for some miles. After crossing the Magilligan Strand, the train was rarely far away from the shoreline and, once we reached the river, I was able to clearly see the other side and had an occasional glimpse of the road that I rode on the other day. We passed behind the big factory that I saw on my first night from the other side. It is a Dupont factory – it makes paint, apparently. As we passed it, just before some houses, I saw Culmore Point and the Yacht Club at the very tip. Unfortunately, I didn’t see the beach that I camped on.
As we were passing through the outer suburbs, the rain started - which wasn’t encouraging, but it stopped before the train terminated at Derry station.
I am happy to say that for the rest of the day, it didn’t rain at all. Which isn’t to say it was all that pleasant. Today’s temperature never got above 1ºC, and the wind was fairly strong all day. My trusty Kathmandu served me well all day. I think I took it off once, no ... twice.
Just outside the train station was a bus that took train passengers across the river for free, so I jumped on this and was deposited outside the bus station.
Both Iris and Maire had recommended the Tower Museum to me. They said it explained the history of Derry and was well balanced, avoiding any sectarian bias. I wanted to see it just for that; I didn’t think that would be possible in this country. Mary and Antony had both heard of it, but told me (in a dismissive voice) that they hadn’t been there and hadn’t heard all that much about it.
Asking various street vendors I found it - about ten metres further on then I had wandered the other day looking for the library. I had about an hour before the doors opened at 10 am, so I turned around and wandered through the largely deserted Old City and found a post office. I spent £2.10 posting some previous days of this journal, plus a few knick-knacks that I have picked up along the way (like pamphlets, etc) and continued.
The Old City is in no way like my imagining of old cities (ie. Jerusalem or Acco). The walls themselves have been modified over the years and the top is now a nicely paved walk. The gates have all been widened to allow two lanes of traffic through and the original stonework has to be pointed out by the information signs dotted around.
The inside of the city has modern shops everywhere and the only older buildings are the truly old, the cathedral, St. Augustine’s Church, the Apprentice Boys’ Hall, etc. It is very small and can be crossed in no time at all. The walls are only a mile in length. Each street within the walled city is at right angles to the others. In the middle is the town’s diamond, which now has a war memorial placed in the middle of it.
I found St. Columb’s (Protestant) Cathedral and walked around it and into the foyer. This cathedral played a small but exciting role in Trinity. While Conor and Seamus were in Derry with their fathers, they snuck into the church during a service. It was the middle of marching season at this point, so every one’s juices were stirred up. They got caught and ended up instigating a riot, sort of. There was nothing special about the building itself (seen one cathedral, seen them all) but since it featured in the book, it was good to see it. From the foyer, I looked through the doors to try and see where the boys hid. I didn’t actually enter the church as that would have cost me £1, and I refuse to pay money to enter a church. I wandered around the outside of the church, looking at all the old gravestones (old!) and also to see if I could find any doors that might lead into the interior of the church. The lads in the novel crept into a door around the back of the church. I saw a door, and I guess it could have been the door that Mr. Uris had in mind, but it was nice and newly painted, so I didn’t really get the impression I was looking for.
Trinity says that St. Columba was the local saint, and about half the places in Donegal and Derry were named for him. I guess Mr. Uris added an ‘a’ to the end of St. Columb’s name, as I have only seen it spelt the short way.
I kept wandering and slowly made my way to the Tower Museum and arrived about five minutes before opening time. Along the alley outside the entrance, a good ten or fifteen street vendors were in the process of setting up for the day. These were the same people that I asked the directions to the library from the other day. They were selling the usual crap that these people sell - cheap earrings, bad T-shirts, usually with an American Indian motif, etc. The same type of caravans and shelters were being used that are used the world over. I wandered, faking interest for five minutes, and then saw movement behind the door of the museum. I arrived at the door just as it was being opened.
Since I was incredibly cold, I determined to stay in there as long as possible.
The museum tells the history of Derry, from the monastery set amongst an oak tree woodland by St. Columb to the modern day Troubles.
I am not going to write down the whole history, as it would take absolutely ages. The museum was very impressive. Using models, displays, paintings and slide shows, it showed the growth of Derry through the ages. From a primitive monastery to the first buildings, to colonisation in the Elizabethan age, to Cromwell’s campaign. It touched on the Famine, and the mass emigration that took place from here. The events leading up to Home Rule and the War of Independence. A final segment was a film showing the events that led to the Troubles. It was basically one guy talking and, rather than telling the facts and figures, he was simply regretting the impact it has had on the communities and families of the city. It had to be rather vague, as any fact specifically stated could be thought by one party as biased to another.
The rest of the museum, however, was very informative and unbiased. All facts of the history were simply given, without making any comment on whether the person or party that caused them to happen were right or wrong.
Also, I knew a lot of facts and stories about the city, but the Tower Museum put them all in chronological order. I learnt some new things about the siege and the Apprentice Boys and also that Doire means ‘oak grove’ in Irish.
I left the museum at 12:30 after spending a warm two and a half hours there.
A quick wander through the ‘craft village’ set me on my way out of the area. The Craft Village was an attempt to turn an area that was once No Man's Land during the '70s into a turn-of-the-century village with lots of (overpriced tourist) shops.
I wandered for a bit and, after following the signs, found the tourist information centre. There was quite a lot of literature there about the various places in Northern Ireland. I picked up a pamphlet telling me all about what is on in Derry.
The pamphlet opens up to a map of Derry. It lists a couple of places. Apart from the Tower Museum, the most interesting looking place was the Market House, a museum all about the Famine and the Linen Mill industry of last century. Both of these issues featured heavily in Trinity. Unfortunately, this museum is closed on Fridays. What type of museum is closed on Fridays but opened all weekend? Stranger, I thought, was that the museum was well into to Protestant side of the town. I would have thought that these issues would have been researched by people leaning towards a more nationalist view.
Derry is pretty much divided into two halves. The eastern half is called Waterside, the western half is the Bogside. The river separates the two. The Walled City is on the Bogside, which had always been the Nationalist/Catholic area, as much as the Waterside is the Protestant/Loyalist stronghold. The fact that the old city is a traditional site for Loyalists has been a thorn in the side of any peace loving people. When the Orange Orders hold their marches there every year, the Catholic majority resents it, to put it mildly. Added to that, the hot headed people on the Nationalist side who retaliate with stones, beatings or worse, and the situation just adds fuel to the already hot fire. This is repeated all over Northern Ireland, where Orange marches go through Nationalist area (ie. Garvaghy Road), but Londonderry is the ‘holy city’ for Irish Protestantism.
I went to the desk clerk and asked him about the Genealogy centre, which was mentioned in the pamphlet. I was hoping to find information about Whitecastle.
Without looking anything up he told me that Inishowen was granted to a Norman Knight Richard De Burgo, whose nephew, Walter, built the original Whitecastle in 1350. It was destroyed in 1566 and later the house that is now there was built. Unfortunately the man didn’t know anything about the modern (!) house.
Then he said that the Genealogy centre was closed due to refurbishment, but that if I wanted to find out anything about anything in the Republic, I would have to go to Dublin, even if the place I was finding out about was in Ulster.
I thanked him and kept wandering aimlessly. It was time for a meal, so I walked to the Bogside area of the city, though not actually in Bogside (which I think is an actual suburb as well as an area) and entered a pub. A £1.90 Guinness and a £3.50 meal followed and filled me up nicely.
The pub had the tricolour in it and had Irish written every where - it wasn’t just for the tourists, either, as it was full of locals and I was the only tourist. I felt quite revolutionary.
While I was waiting for the food, it started hailing lightly outside. Then it really started hailing. It was very heavy. Although the hailstones weren’t that big, the noise they made when they came down killed all conversation in the pub. Everyone just turned to the window and sipped their pints in silence. Across the narrow, paved and steep road, I saw four people huddle in a doorway, trying to find shelter. Silly people. There was plenty of room in the pub, and it was a lot warmer in there.
I was determined to find the Bogside. In the pub I discreetly looked at the map and worked out a way to walk. It wasn’t long before I entered a heavily Nationalist area with big wall murals demanding the release of the POWs and the likewise.
Since I was in the Bogside, I walked along with a hard expression on my face and the beanie pulled low over my eyebrows. It was difficult to look tough as the ground was white and crunchy and - at times - quite slippery. Growing up in Darwin, I still love hail and frosts and think that the sound of the ground crunching while I walk is fantastic. I guess I will get used to it in Sweden. I felt like giggling with glee, not being tough.
I passed the Bloody Sunday memorial, which was a bit of a surprise. It was fenced off, with barbed wire topping the heavy iron gate. I guess that is to stop any Loyalist kid with a spray can defacing it. The authorities probably only open it on Bloody Sunday (30th of January), which I think is a shame.
I have long heard of the Free Derry Corner, but not known too much about it. The mural is simply a white wall, with large black letters reading: YOU ARE NOW ENTERING FREE DERRY. As far as I know, it is painted on the side of a house, which has now been knocked down, as only the white wall remains, with a couple of supports on the other side to hold it up. I guess during one of the riots the area was declared Free Derry. There were big riots in 1972, I think. The map in my pamphlet said that this was the Free Derry Corner. On the map, there wasn’t all that much beyond this point. It showed St. Eugene’s Cathedral further north but closer to the river. I would have loved to have a copy of Trinity right there, as Conor lived for a time in the Bogside, and there were lots of sites that I could have made my Trinity pilgrimage to! Never mind. The area looked a little rough - an understatement - so I decided to head up to the city again. There was no need to delve further into the area.
I passed housing estates with barbed wire gates as entrances and other places that would have been guarded by the IRA in times past. All the movies I have seen that have shown scenes like this are true; In The Name Of The Father and The Boxer are good examples. It was quite amazing.
Quite exciting. However, I guess it is the last bit of Trinity pilgrimage I will be able to do. I can’t go to Belfast, however I guess if I spend a couple of days in Dublin, I will be able to see a couple of sites there that are mentioned in the book.
At some point I passed one of those cheap shops and went in looking for gloves. My blue gloves have been falling apart at an increasing rate. Both index fingers poked through and holes in each of the thumbs were getting much larger by the hour. Other holes were appearing as well. I was too embarrassed to take them with me when I went touring with Mary yesterday as they were in such bad condition; so I simply froze my hands instead.
I bought a pair of gloves for £1.89. They aren’t good quality but are fairly warm and will last me through to the end of Sweden, I hope.
More wandering. I went back up the main road in the walled city and entered the City Hall. The pamphlet had told me how magnificent this building was with its stained glass windows and all. True, the windows were pretty good, but they didn’t move me much. I guess this would be a building where a tour book or guide would come in handy. I went into a fairly important looking room, with a big dais, a series of windows and a very good iron sculpture covering the entire wall behind the stage. All the windows reeked of Protestantism, featuring the Red Hand of Ulster and the occasional white steed. Although the Red Hand of Ulster is the official symbol of the province of Ulster, it has been pretty much taken up by Loyalists and is now a symbol of the Protestant parties and armies. The UDA’s symbol is a red hand.
The story behind the Red Hand is a bit of a guess. I have heard of a story before I came to Ireland - years ago, in fact - but since coming here I have asked all sorts of people and no one has been able to give me an answer. I expected a whole range of answers (I am getting used to the Irish) but instead, I haven’t heard one.
The one I heard makes a bit of sense, sort of.
I have no idea what period of history this takes place in, but is probably pre-Celtic.
A long, long time ago, there were two brothers from Scotland - princes - who agreed to a race. They decided that they would race each other to Ireland, the reward for the first brother to grasp the sand of Ireland would be sovereignty over the land.
At one point, Scotland is only nine miles from the coast of Scotland. Ulster is protected from the rest of Ireland by a mountain range, and so traditionally, it has been either the first to be invaded, or the last to hold out from invasion from the south.
Anyway, these brothers started racing. I don’t know if they were swimming or in boats; that is something that I will have to find out at one stage. They were getting close to the shore, and one of the brothers was lagging behind. He realised that his sibling would beat him to the shore, so he drew his sword and hacked off his right hand. With his remaining hand, he through the severed limb with all his might towards the shore. It flew over his brother’s head and landed on the sand. The single-handed brother was the first to grasp the sands of Ireland, and hence he was crowned the king of Ulster.
The reason I believe that this story predates the Celtic invasion is that the Celts believed that the ruler had to be perfect. If he lost an eye or a hand in combat, he would have to step down - which actually meant that he would be killed, and his blood poured over the next leader, an idea that fostered the belief that the leader was immortal, that he was reborn with every new leader.
From the entrance to the Town Hall, I watched the hail come again; covering the old stones that had yet to melt. The whole place was covered with white, and looked great.
I was wandering blindly now (it was about 2 pm) and ended up in a shopping centre for warmth. I realised that this was ridiculous - here I was in a historic town that I may never have a chance to see again - certainly it will be a long time before I am so lucky - so I went and sat down on a toilet, pulled out the pamphlet and looked for places of interest that were cheap and open.
I decided upon a course of action. I would go up to the library (nearby) and find Trinity to look up the maps given and have a bit of a read to find some street names, etc. Then, via the city walls, I would go to the Butcher’s Gate (closest to the Bogside) and walk up to St. Eugene’s (Catholic) Cathedral. I had read that the inside of the cathedral was covered with beautiful mosaic, and that its carillon had 39 bells. I hoped that this would take a bit of time up, as I had to wait until 5:10 for the train back to Coleraine.
The library didn’t have Trinity - I guess that such a book is a little to biased for such a sensitive town - and the cathedral was just a cathedral. I didn’t see a grand bell tower, or even a small mosaic. I sat in solemn silence for five minutes and left. I had an hour and a half to fill in with nothing to do.
The walls had a number of signs for people like me making the walk around the mile. They generally referred to the siege of Derry by the forces of King James, who eventually lost (Apprentice Boys’ Day is one of the highlights of the Orange marching season and commemorates the start of the siege). Another of the signs however, told how up until some time this century, the suburbs of the Bogside had reached right up to Derry’s walls. Now there was nice, manicured grass rising in a gentle slope. This had worried me, as more than once, Trinity mentioned how the Protestant kids used to throw copper coins down at the Catholic drunks at the base of the wall. More than once it used this as a symbol of the hopelessness of the Bogside, which was largely the result of Protestant Ulsterism (The book is a little biased on the side of the nationalists).
I went back to the same pub and had a plate of chips (£1.30) and another Guinness (£1.90), I finished them slowly and made my way back to the train station in a slow walk. By this time, it was dark and the Christmas lights were showing. They were quite pretty, especially when I was in Waterside, as the lights on the clock tower, town hall and city walls (from across the river) were nicely reflected on the river. On the way I saw a big linen factory that has survived since the last century and thought of Witherspoon and McNab, the main linen factory in Trinity.
Dinner was once again exceptional and the hosts once again plied me with Guinness and offers of freedom of the fridge.
I forgot to mention; the Tower cost £3.75, which brought today’s spending to £23.35!
However, the £10 given to me by the Doherty’s helps and I went to a cash machine to check my balance. I didn’t find a Lloyds bank all day - or any other bank that I had seen in England for that matter, I guess they aren’t here for the same reason as the political parties. I found a machine outside the Bank of Ulster, and just like the bank in Moville, it wouldn’t let me have an account balance without withdrawing money. I withdrew £10 and found I had £70 left. (Yates’s last pay packet!). Hoorah! After the thought of spending lots of money, common sense pervaded and I realised that here was the emergency money that I had not brought with me. So the £4 per day budget continues, but at least I have an emergency fund if I need it. On saying that, knowing my own weakness at saving, I will probably end up spending the damn money. I have lived on £4 out of necessity, not choice.
In the evening, I was able to check my e-mail using the Alcock’s computer, so I wrote a quick message to everyone.
Now I am quite exhausted. I am trying to gear myself up for a big ride tomorrow. God help me!
posted by Bren Carlill @ 6:51 AM
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