Ards Peninsula, Wonderfully Modest

Ride Date 18 September 2020

By Ren Withnell

Oh yesssss, this bed thing is very nice yet I awake long before I dare disturb sleeping beauty. I presume she must have slept well as she is merely dangerous this morning as opposed to terrifying. 

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside, oh I do like to be beside the sea. The rough plan today is to ride down the coastal side of the Ards Peninsula with the promise of a small ferry across the tip from Portaferry to Strangford. 

Once more Sharon rustles up some tasty tortillas and I throw more hot tea down the sink, some of which makes it to the flasks. Outside the sun is shining although I'd say there's a firm, cool, perhaps cold breeze. As we're headed to the coast I think it wise to put on an extra layer, we can always take it off can't we. 

Sharon has decided she'll ride her bike today. Oddly after my reticence about her not riding yesterday it's just a tad frustrating she's chosen to ride today. You see we have to make our way through Belfast, or at least the complex looking motorways and bypasses through Belfast. More chances to get separated and on busy bustling roads in a city finding each other could be problematic. 

I'll keep my trap shut, we've ridden through far worse places than Belfast. Amsterdam, in the rain, on the wrong side of the road, suicidal cyclists, trams, 125s with camping luggage, Jeeez. Remember dear reader, we do these things so you don't have to.

Sat Nav does help. It pains me to admit this. I have been all too proud of my navigational skills over the years although they have let me down, often. 

Sat Nav is not an ultimate panacea though. It's not always obvious which lane you need to be in, not every exit off a roundabout is logical and not every rule of the road is reflected on the screen. It is a tool in an armoury of tools, it is a guide not a reason to not read signs, both directional and instructional. It can also be a distraction.

As we ride I spot a familiar sight, although I've never been here before. The 2 massive cranes of "Samson" and "Goliath" at the Harland and Wolff shipyard are clearly visible from what I hope is the A2. Much like Giant's Causeway this is another iconic image that comes to mind whenever Northern Ireland is mentioned. I am taken back to the '70s and '80s, watching the BBC news about strikes and bombings and redundancies. It is oddly emotional seeing these massive metal towers in the flesh.

Normal service is resumed when we get out of the city and onto the much more normal, relaxing and less complex dual carriageway heading around Bangor. We drift calmly and casually under the guidance of my phone's screen towards Donaghadee for our first stop.

Donaghadee (dona-gadee... dona-hadee... dona-ghgh-adee...??) feels different to the quaint, pretty "local fishing" harbours north of Belfast. This is larger, more industrial-revolution scale. I can envisage men in cloth caps using large steam powered hoists while hard handed women gut vast piles of fish in a factory. The industrial revolution has passed, the harbour is still in use but thankfully much quieter and all the better for it.

Donaghadee Harbour means business. 

We walk the broad harbour wall to the stout lighthouse at the exit to the sea. 2 men dangle lines into the water although it seems obvious they're here just to chat and avoid cutting the grass. They nod and smile to us before tugging a line, just to ensure we know they are actually fishing.

Following the coastal road south we pass through Millisle and into Ballywalter. The tangible difference from the Causeway Coastal Route is still here. This route, according to the signs is called The Mourne Coastal Route. It feels more real, more lived in, less touristy. 

Please don't misinterpret this. It is still pretty and green. It is still acceptably quiet. It still feels very coastal. In some ways I like the twee and cutesy northern coast, in some ways I like the real and lived in feel of this route. I can imagine holidays on the northern route, I can imagine a pleasant and comfortable lifestyle living here. Not better nor worse, just different.

In Ballywalter we park up behind the Spar minimarket. Inside we grab more ingredients for tonight's tea and a few snacks. Outside we sit on the bench to dine, sipping tea from our flasks and chomping our wraps. A handful of people come and go, walkers throw balls for their dogs. It feels alive and lived in while lacking the chaos of the city. The beach we see in search of toilets would make for a lovely evening's stroll.

A constitutional walk along here of an evening seems idyllic.

Portavogie's harbour is very much in use with plenty of trawlers, workers working and steel buildings. We only stop for a brief look and to stretch a little. Definitely a larger place and yet it still feels laid back.

Portavogie is still hard at work.

You'd think I've done so many ferries by now they'd be second nature, and they are - normally. However the approach to Portaferry's ferry terminal bewilders me. I can see the ferry. I can see the slipway. But, erm, errr... There's big "No Entry" roundels and "HGV Only" painted on the floor. I stop. I ponder. The deck hands are flailing their arms at me but not in a cohesive and understandable manner. 

It probably only takes me 20 seconds to work it out but when you're looking like an idiot yokel from Bolton it feels more like an hour. My flashing fleeting eyes finally spot a sign "Ferry traffic 200 yds". It leads away from the slipway which is confusing. I lead us down a lane that folds back on itself, designed for cars to queue while waiting to cross. We ride straight onto the ferry and the ramp is raised behind us. Marginally embarrassing, thankfully the wisdom of age softens my shame.

Yeah, erm, sorry about that sweetie.

We enjoy a short calm ride across the waters, being relieved of £3.50 each. Disembarking is much less confusing as there really is only one way off. 

I guess the way off is, erm, forwards?

I consider just heading back to the chalet, However it is still only 1330 and Sharon reports she is comfortable and happy to ride some more. Well that's good then, except I hadn't given this any further consideration. We'll, erm, we'll just keep on following the coast then?

The road opens up along with the landscape. While not empty there's much more space between the houses and small villages. This is rolling, soft arable land now with a rural farming feel. In keeping with this feeling we cruise along, slowly making our way towards Ardglass.

Ardglass is, once more, quite small and perfectly pleasant yet it has a different vibe to it. It's just a tad touristy, not Blackpool per se but the small shop sells ice creams and postcards, that sort of thing. I figure it must be posh too as the harbour (marina?) contains private boats and yachts, one of them particularly swish. 

Shall we get a yacht with room for the bikes sweetie?

There's a small castle style building in the harbour. What it's there for I'm not sure, I figure it was a shelter for harbour workers or perhaps simply a folly. Sharon, wishing to be the princess of this castle, delicately slips and slithers her way across the slimy rocks to go and play. At the age of 50 she's still not right in the head.

Could this be Sharon's new home?

It's still only 1400 but we've got about an hour's ride back according to Google which means, well lord only knows. I think by the time we get back we can call this a good ride so we head north towards Belfast. The roads are wide and flowing with verges, proper verges. Back in England verges do exist but they're the exception, far from the rule. Verges seem to be a thing in Europe so I get that "abroad" feeling again. Odd, nice, but odd.

Sat nav is handy but it is merely a tool. I need to be in the 2 lanes to the right of me but Belfast is bustling with traffic. If I were alone I'd push my way in but that makes life very hard indeed for Sharon following me. The good thing about sat nav is if we don't make this turning it will re-route. I follow this lane and allow sat nav to do it's thing.

Belfast is a city. I'm sure a local could point out the beautiful architecture of such-and-such a building, there's likely a fascinating tale about that statue, I bet the nightlife is amazing and there'll be thousands of years of history here. But it is a city. I see towering office buildings, confusing road markings, one way systems and angry executives in big cars bullying Sharon to go faster. 

Wrong lane, traffic. Right lane, queue. No signs and sat nav is vague. Too many signs. Impatient pedestrians. Taxi from the right cutting in. Wrong lane again. There is only one way to view a big city as far as I'm concerned, through a screen in the comfort of your own home. Relief comes in the form of a big road that eventually becomes familiar. It's teatime by the time we're back at the chalet.

Sharon and I discuss our day as we sort out food and drink. It's strange. We seek out vast mountains and chocolate box villages, stunning views and remote places. The Ards Peninsula is none of these things and yet today has been a pleasure. We agree we both felt "right at home" on the country roads and in the coastal towns. Maybe it's just being on holiday, maybe it's this whole Covid thing, who knows, we're just glad we had a look.

I now have to work out where we should have a look at tomorrow. To the maps!

Contact ren@bikesandtravels.com