| From glen to glen
 MALCOLM
ROGERS samples a slice of the Ulster Way, cutting north across the hills
and glens of Antrim.
Whenever Antrim is mentioned in relation to a holiday destination, the
immediate image is of the Coast Road and the Giant’s Causeway. But
you don’t have to confine yourself to these undoubted jewels.
Of course, if you’ve not been along the Antrim Coast Road before,
a visit is almost obligatory, as this is one of the world’s great
roads.
But having feasted yourself on the likes of White Park Bay, Benbane Head
and the almost impossibly picturesque harbour of Ballintoy, you equally
owe it to yourself to head up into the glens, park up the old motor, and
ramble along the Ulster Way for a bit.
The slightly mis-named Ulster Way is a well sign-posted route that circumnavigates
most of the Six Counties, with only an occasional foray into the three
Ulster counties south of the border.
The 500-mile route meanders from Belfast, as far south as Carlingford
Lough, then over to Fermanagh. From here it follows the line of the loughs
before turning north and on towards the city of Derry.
From Derry it follows the Atlantic coastal route — and it’s
here where we pick it up. Because the section from Glenariff Forest to
Ballycastle (some 20 miles) provides everything that you could want from
an Irish walk: Moorland, woodland, open heath, stupendous views of the
Atlantic, and finally a sojourn in a town that is one of the North’s
finest seaside resorts.  A
miss is as good as a Moyle
The section of the Ulster Way that comes under our scrutiny today is known
as the Moyle Way, which starts opposite the entrance to Glenariff Forest.
The first part of the track takes you through the forest — a mainly
coniferous forest, with soft, pine-needle strewn paths to walk along.
The forest clothes the lower slopes of Trostan, the highest point of the
Antrim Mountains (some 1,800 feet). It’s an easy enough climb if
you want to add it as an optional extra. As you might imagine, the views
from the top are wonderful, with Scotland, most of Ulster and the Isle
of Man visible on a clear day.
On a not so clear day (not unknown in these parts) you’ll be lucky
to see your hand in front of you.
Having sorted out whether you’re for the summit or not, either way
you’ll need to make your way past the waterfall, along the Glendún
River and into the enchanting Slieveanorra Woods.
Keep your eyes skinned here because there are deer, badger, fox and stoat
about. Particularly in winter time this can be an enchanting part of the
walk if there’s a scattering of snow about. The animal tracks point
to this being the main animal M1 round these parts.
As you ascend up the slopes of Slieveanorra the going gets easier. The
peat — except in the wettest of conditions — is compact and
springy. Walking here is as if you’re wearing a pair of air-powered
trainers.
The summit of Slieveanorra (just shy of 1,700 feet) has views back across
the Slieveanorra Nature Reserve. Important areas of upland blanket bog
surround the mountain — so if you see someone poking about in the
turf, they probably haven’t lost their contact lenses; it’s
more than likely some scientist from afar come to conduct research into
our bogs.
History gleaned in the Glen
The bogland round Orra Beg was the scene of a mighty battle way back in
1559 — which of course in this part of Ireland is a mere blink of
the eye away. It might as well have happened last weekend.
The heel of the hunt as far as the battle is concerned was a squabble
between the O’Neills (the big shout hereabouts) and the MacDonnells.
The MacDonnells, being local, came up with a cunning plan and lured the
O’Neills (and their henchmen the McQuillans) onto the boggy ground,
where they floundered, and were easily finished off. So let that be a
warning to you to watch your step, and don’t stray too far from
the path.
While you were on the top of Slievanorra you may well have noticed a stone
cairn. Indeed, you’d be hard put to miss it, unless it’s an
exceptionally foggy day. Anyway, the cairn was raised by Sorley Boy MacDonnell,
chief of the clan, to commemorate the battle. His two protagonists, Hugh
Phelim O’Neill and Daniel McQuillan’s graves are both on the
slopes of the mountain. Rightly do they say in Ireland: “Every hill
has its heroes, and every bog its bones.”
A dose of the bends
The gravel path descends zig zag down the northern slopes of Slieveanorra,
with the north Antrim coast and Rathlin Island clearly visible ahead.
Soon you’re moving from the lonely moorland into the forested lower
slopes — in autumn the larch hereabouts is so golden that it lights
up the entire area.
Before long you reach a minor road that clings to the hillside. Well,
most of it clings to the hillside. If you look off to the right you can
still see where one whole bend in the road has made a bid for freedom.
Scattered down the slope are the remains of a section of road that has
detached itself from the rest and slid down the valley. Mind how you go
now!
In a forest, you can never get lost. Just look for small stream and follow
it down river. It will eventually lead to a bigger river and this will
eventually bring you down to the sea — or at any rate out of the
forest. And that’s exactly the tactics to employ here — a
couple of streams (or ‘burns’) babble gentle down the hill
until they lead you to the Glenshesk River. After a few miles you’ll
come to McQuillan’s Grave, last resting place of the afore-mentioned
loser in the Battle of Orra Beg.
Seeing the wood from the trees
 Heading upwards from Ardagh
and you soon come to what is, sadly, all too rare a sight in Ireland —
an oak grove. The Breen Woods, now a national nature reserve, are the
remnants of the great forests that once covered Ireland. The lonely moorlands
of Antrim, the wild open heathland of the Cooleys — even the stone
slabs of Co. Clare were once all heavily wooded with birch, hazel, oak
and ash. The woodland was cleared firstly for fuel, then for grazing.
The great oak forests were next — felled for multifarious reasons.
Some went for boats for the British navy, some were used in the construction
of cathedrals and the like. Then the ash and the hazel were removed —
sometimes burnt to the ground by the invading forces in an attempt to
literally smoke the rebels out. I tell you — in Ireland you might
think you’re just out for a walk, but quickly you become embroiled
in the whole history of the place.
Once through Breen’s Wood you’re into open farmland, but soon
Ballycastle Forest looms in the distance. This is the last climb of the
walk, and worth every wheezing breath you take. Because at the top of
the hill the forest has been clear-felled and from the vantage point at
the top Ireland’s most north-easterly point is visible — Fair
Head.
It’s fair at Ballycastle
Ballycastle is in sight now, and it couldn’t be a better place to end
a long hike. I have a tremendously soft spot for the town because it was
where, many, many years ago, I played my first residency with a ballad
band. It was in the Royal Hotel, and the place, I am pleased to report,
is still going strong.
The craic is ninety throughout the year in Ballycastle, but if you find
yourself passing through at the time of the Fleadh Amhrán agus
Rince, aka the Ould Lammas Fair, then you can multiply the craic quotient
by a factor of at least a thousand.
If you’d prefer a more sedate time then book yourself into a seafront
B&B, find a nice comfortable seat to look out on the Sea of Moyle,
and tear away with those great words: “At the Ould Lammas
Fair boys, were you ever there?
Were you ever at the fair at Ballycastle, oh?
Did you treat your Mary Ann to some dulse and yellow man,
At the Ould Lammas Fair at Ballycastle, oh?”
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