U.K. Trip, Day 23

Gortrim Forest Park, Northern Ireland

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After our last breakfast this morning, and packing, and chatting with our hostess, we were on our way back east. It rained... all... day... long.... A steady, persistent, soaking rain. We drove through Donegal, bought fuel, and crossed the border, where the roads immediately worsened. Scott really wanted coffee, as our last B&B had only served instant, but nowhere was a cafe to be found (we laughed at Edinburgh again!). 

We stopped at Gortrim Forest Park in the Sperrins. It turned out to be a nearly-deserted wood of tall, dark pine trees, reaching away across the hills. We sat in a car park overhung with evergreens and ate lunch. A flock of wee schoolkids in jackets and wellies pranced out of one of the forest service buildings and onto their bus, and then the place was quite empty. 

The rain seemed to let up, so we went for a walk through the dripping forest, following the burn. Gorgeous waterfalls. The path crossed and recrossed the burn on bridges so that we could gaze down on the backs of fast, sleek water as they shot back and forth through narrow channels, or fell over short drops, or swam smoothly over pebbly flats. All overhung with bracken and rowan trees. We walked back through the forest, which dripped. Perfectly straight pine trunks, rank on rank, marching away. The ground was lime green with moss and shamrock clover, and, in some places, immense ferns.

Back at the car we decided to take the drive through the park. This looped us up to a newly-logged hillside, so newly-logged that we could see the machines piling logs at the foot of the slope. Horrible, that desolate, jagged expanse, but that's paper for writing and boards for houses. Also, there were fields of new young trees sprouting up thickly. It was all very weird and desolate under the rain and low clouds, with the hills veiled in mist. 

We left the forest park finally and drove on straight through the valley of the Sperrins. Quite lonely. We passed farms and occasional single houses, but every wee town seemed deserted. Mist and rain blew over the grey hills. We managed to find our way out of this dreary dreamscape at last, but only to have to navigate the badly-marked B roads to the A6. So we went through Antrim and up to Doagh by the B59. We stopped for diesel, and Scott finally found some decent coffee. We were supposed to be at the Ws' house at six, but we were an hour early, so I pointed us down the road, and we stopped at Trinity RPC. I just wanted to show Scott the building. He drank his coffee, and we sat in the car park listening to Energy Radio, i.e., crazy club music, in which U2 and Coldplay were inexplicably mixed. 

It was so good to see the Ws again. After Scott piloted the car to a space in the crooked driveway, Mrs W welcomed us at the back door, and I received a whiskery kiss from Mr W, and Scott, a handshake. Then the warm kitchen. Claire had also just arrived, and Calvin joined us a little later. We ate a solid meal and talked and talked. After we ate, Mr W led us in family worship, and we sang Psalm 20B and 138B, beautiful--Claire, alto; Mr W, bass; Calvin, tenor; Scott, Mrs W, and me, melody, singing our hearts out. We played an uproarious round of Articulate, girls versus guys, with plenty of chaffing and laughter. Tea, camaraderie, warmth from the stove, and the rain sweeping over the windows outside. 

After we played, Calvin left, and Scott went upstairs. I stayed to chat with Claire before she left and then went up myself. Everything exactly the same, down to the smell of the house, down to the clock chime in the hallway. So many nights listening to that chime! When I went upstairs, Scott was busy inviting people to The First Traditional Ye Olde June 15th Party, in celebration of our return.