April 2, 2009: Come in Mr. Marconi, Can you hear me now?

Today, April 2, 2009, was road trip day.

Actually, today was the day that Lauren was going to visit the University of Ulster campus in Belfast, which has a number of Arts degrees on offer. Her subject of choice is Photography, and I took a chance to email the University and ask for a tour. Lauren had applied to the course, and when they realized this, they suggested that she come in for interview, and bring a portfolio of her work. We spent four hours last night compiling a portfolio, and ended up going to bed way too late (again).

April 2, 2009 was the day that the sun came out in Northern Ireland. A rarity for a land that sees four seasons in a day.

The plan was for Lauren to be interviewed for a place in the University of Ulster, in a BA course in Photography. It's something she's interested in, and when we looked at the variety of far flung schools that she could have applied to, the option of going to Northern Ireland for school made sense since we know more people here than in Syracuse!

The Craig-bus dutifully loaded, we set off to Belfast via the Antrim Coast road, taking in Cushendall, Cushendun, and Glenarm along the way.

The route takes you up hill and down dale along the Ulster coastline. This part of the world is beautiful anytime, but when the sun comes out, it is downright glorious. We stopped at a layby to take in Tor Head, the closest point of Northern Ireland to Scotland, and also the origin of this blog's title.

Tor Head is the location that Mr. Marconi sent the first transatlantic radio transmission to the United States. Who'da thunk it. The buildings themselves are pretty nondescript, and there is nothing there that would encourage the traveller to divert and explore. But the view! Worth the price of admission alone!

The sun stayed out as we drove along windy narrow roads with hairpin turns and sharp drops, the wide expanse of the Irish sea and the white capped waves far below. It was picture perfect.

We stopped at Glanarm, at a church with a very interesting graveyard. Many of the stones are toppled or diplaced, but those still standing all have stories to tell. We found one that chronicled a family who died in the late 1700's, but the interesting thing was that this headboard was very heavily weathered wood.

Bethany and Conor had a blast combing the beach for sea glass and rounded stones. we have a big bag of them now, they seem bound determined to make sure we exceed the incompetent-al airlines weight limits.

Elaine and I often joke about Johnston picnics. When we were going out, we sometimes would have gone on wee runs in the car with her folks, often stopping off for a picnic. Given the fickle nature of Northern Ireland weather, this invariably meant a sandwich in one hand, a steamy hot drink in the other, and huddled up together in the car with the windows fogging over. Today's picnic? Sandwich in one hand, steamy hot drink in the other, etc etc. Yeah the sun was out, it was still blowy though!

After leaving Glenarm, we headed into Belfast. Lauren and I jumped out of the car, and Elaine went on with the rest to Bangor, to visit a friend of her mother's. Lauren and I were met by one of the lecturers of the Photography course, who interviewed Lauren and gave us a very nice tour of the facility there. We'll see how it plays out, competition is stiff for places in this course.

Dinnertime brought us to the town I grew up in, Donaghadee. To all my american friends, don't even try pronouncing it.

Donaghadee lighthouse and harbour is another favorite haunt, though like much of Northern Ireland, time's march has brough several changes. Gone are Kennedy's sweet shop on the corner, the Blue Dot now sells old antique pruck, and Curry's corner grocery is now a hairdressers. Saddest of all was to see that Bow Belle's teashop is gone, replaced by some holistic eyesore. That's all Donaghadee is lost for, some incense burning crystal hugging hippies.

We walked around the lighthouse (as you would when in the 'Dee) and then fish suppers all round from the Captain's Table. The light was getting low when we left, and by the time we went further south to Millisle, it was dark. Since there was no point in pressing on (what was there to see anyway), we made our way back north through Belfast to Ballycastle and our warm beds.