Ice cream, anyone?

Just a wee shot of Portstewart, from the lower Prom looking towards the harbour.  One of my favourite places.

Portstewart Bay

The seagulls are drying themselves on the rocks, the War Memorial is standing tall, not a sinner in sight.  All is well with the world.  I might have to get an ice cream...

The West Strand

Took the Dog-Hound-Thing to Portrush the other morning to take the sea air.  Ended up under the railway arch in the West Strand, home to one of the many Blue Flag beaches around this area (and no, I didn't take the DHT onto the Blue Flag beach, before you ask).  The light was good, but the wind coming off the Atlantic was serious - had to be batten down the hat otherwise it would've ended up somewhere up in the Antrim Hills.

So, Portrush, or Port Ruis, if you prefer, meaning 'the landing place of the promontory', which is quite a mouthful.  Pieces of flint found along the coast from Portrush to Ballycastle point to human inhabitants in this area as far back as 4000 BC, which represents a fair few generations.  It started life as a small fishing village but in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries it was a popular destination for holidaymakers, largely due to the train line from Belfast, which opened in 1855.   Portrush will always have a place in history, thanks to the industry of a certain Mr W. A. Traill, a local gentleman responsible for the first hydro-electric system of public transport in the world, no less, which started in 1883 and ran from Portrush along the coast to the Giant's Causeway.  Sadly neither Mr Traill nor the tramline are with us any more.

These days Portrush still buzzes with holidaymakers in the summer which is great for the local traders and not so great for everyone else.  Best visited in winter if you ask me, when you've only got the biting wind and sleet for company.  Famous for Barry's amusements, The White House and the links golf course, which will host The Open in 2019.  More on The White House later, by the way - a department store with an interesting history.  Over 100 years old and going strong - how many business can say that?

So here is the West Strand in print.  Well, scanned that is - you know what I mean.  Now Mrs North East Liberties herself told me these photographs were boring.  I kind of know what she means, but there's an honesty about them which I like, so here they are - you can decide for yourself.

Portrush West Strand, looking West.  Donegal just visible in the distance

Portrush West Strand, looking East towards the town

Both snaps taken with a 35mm lens on 35mm FP4+ film, printed on MG IV pearl, just for the record.

Holy Trees and such

Here's another couple of prints from the Ballymoney walkabouts.  I was early for hydrotherapy the other day so had a wee dander around.  Just down the road from the hospital, on Rodeing Foot to be precise (Ed: Rodeing Foot - what's that about then?) lies Trinity Presbyterian church, all lovely stonework and everything.  As I walked past I spied a tree which spookily enough has 3 trunks, all Trinity-like and everything.  Nice, isn't it?

Trinity Tree in ground of Trinity Church, Ballymoney

Yes, I know, there's something not right with the foreground of this print - not sure what happened there, apart from sloppy darkroom technique, that is.

I wonder if the tree was encouraged to grow like that on purpose or did nature just decide...in any case, it looks just right growing as it is in the grounds of Trinity Presbyterian Church on Rodeing Foot in Ballymoney Town.

A bit farther down the road and then a right turn brings you to Meeting House Street and eventually to Ballymoney Train Station&Bus Depot.  Not usually a lot happening here but I liked this old building with its stone work.  An uncommonly long building it is, as you can see, which makes one think it must have been built for something in the large transport line of things - railway carriages or the like.  Unfortunately I know not what.  Anyway, here it is:

Ballymoney Transport HQ

I also had a walk over the new funky footbridge at the Railway Station and took this snapshot:

Arty snap overlooking Ballymoney-Belfast railway track

Yes I did feel like a first year Photography BA student.  And yes I know its printed asymmetrically - on purpose, of course...(Ed: sure about that?). And yes I know there's something not right with the right-hand-side of the print - I was having a bad day in the darkroom, OK?

Cows etc

We have a few animals who share their lives with us - some permanently, like the hens, rabbit and Dog-Hound-Thing, and others temporarily, like the swallows who visit every summer and the cows in the fields beside us, which come and go at the farmer's discretion.  We like it when the cows are in - they are beautiful big creatures, inquisitive and very alert. They watch our comings and goings very carefully.  Sometimes they have calves, which is lovely to watch.  They all crowd round to see the new arrival and give us dirty looks as if to say 'Keep Away', which we do as we don't fancy messing with a few hundredweight of live cows.  Here's a snapshot of the current crop, so to speak:

Inquisitive cows in the field

Yes I know I've lost the blacks a bit here - just think of it in the Salgado style.  The Dog-Hound-Thing loves the cows coming in too - he gets to be all protective of his family (i.e., us) and spends most of the day on High Alert, watching their every move.  If they get too close he'll bark like crazy and make for them, although the fence keeps them separated.  The cows just treat him with disdain most of the time, looking at him curiously.  Unless he startles them of course, when they give a buck leap (as my grandfather would have said) and lollop away to another part of the field.

Now here's a rare event - the DHT in stationary pose.  Usually he's the sort that never stands still - it's either full on running around like a mad eejit or flaked out asleep (and mostly the latter it has to be said, although since he's getting on a bit that's OK).

The Dog-Hound-Thing, in static pose at Portstewart Strand

This was taken in the sandhills at Portstewart Strand, which are just fantastic to walk.  It is reckoned that early StoneAge Irish-folk used to live in the sandhills, using nearby Tober Patrick (St Patrick's well) as it is now known as a source of fresh water.  It's a feast for the senses walking through the sand dunes - I can heartily recommend it to revive the spirits.

There's a (mildly) interesting story about these prints, for those of you enlightened in the ways of the darkroom.  I had some Fotospeed WT-10 developer in my slot processor which was about a month old.  No problem, I thought to myself, I'll just replenish it with about 25% fresh (at 1:29 dilution it's very economical) and it'll be good to go.  But it wasn't.  Every print came out murky, little contrast, almost green in tone and after a couple of hours I was getting disillusioned with my printing session and life in general, as you do.  But I washed the prints as usual and decided to see how some of them toned in warm Selenium.  And guess what?  They had an impressive shift in contrast after toning - pretty much back to normal.   Now I don't think I'll be recommending this course of action in future - I think this developer at 1:29 dilution is good only for a couple of weeks - but it is an interesting result.  Looking at the prints today the un-toned definitely have a greenish look about them - which might well suit some subjects.  And it could be an interesting diversion to see just how long this particular developer keeps active for.  But that's for another day.

Too late

Same old story - more 'improvements' means tumbling some of our historic buildings.  This time its our old friend the local Council, who decided in their wisdom to demolish some cottages in Portrush Harbour.  The harbour in its present form was built in 1827, although ships had been stopping at Portrush since the 18th Century to pick up any passengers brave enough to try their hand in the New World of the Americas.  By all accounts these journeys were not to be undertaken lightly - the conditions were cramped, food scarce and disease rife.  Many young and old died.  But clearly for many the risks were worth it - some 400,000 emigrated from Ulster to America in the 18th Century.

Anyway, back to the cottages.  These were used until very recently by local fishermen.  After asbestos was found in them (presumably in the roofs - corrugated asbestos was used before the 1970s) it was safely removed.  So far so good.  But no, the Council then decided that the most economic solution was to demolish them.  Now I daresay the cost-benefit analysis was carried out with due process and I understand they have a duty to the ratepayers - although where was this duty when the new council offices were built a few years ago?  To quote from their own website, "The reception area and Bann Gallery are lined in walnut. All of the walnut veneer used in the building was soured [sic] from one single tree. The tree was retrieved from a bog in the Gardens of Versailles in France. It dated back to the Napoleonic era and was particularly unusual because of its size."  And before you ask, this isn't the Council of Europe, or Westminster, or even Edinburgh...this is Coleraine, a long way from everywhere.  Enough said.

The local fishermen and harbour users wanted to keep the cottages and an article appeared in our local rag to that effect.  And a few days later I ventured forth to photograph same cottages.  And here they are:

Fishermen's Cottages, Portrush Harbour

Nice, aren't they?  Yes, I was too late.  Funny how quickly the Council can move to avoid any sort of protracted protest against one of their decisions, isn't it?   No doubt the replacement buildings will have lots of glass and concrete and may even win awards and all that, but just sometimes isn't it good to keep old things, in spite of the cost?

Anyway, to lighten the mood, here are some cute little boats I found in the harbour, oblivious to the wanton destruction going on around them:

Little boats

There were bigger boats too but I didn't photograph them.

Bushmills

Sorry about the lack of posting recently.  Had a bad week health-wise...as well as my ankylosing spondylitis, I have tinnitus which from time to time gets pretty bad.  Last week was a for instance, when it was all consuming and very horrible to live with.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I stopped off in Bushmills, or Portcaman as it was known in Norman times.  After the bubonic plague visited in 1348 the parish of Portcaman amalgamated with the parish of Dunluce (where the Castle is), which is just down the road a bit.  These days Bushmills is known across the world for this.  And to make that particular hard liquor requires water, which of course comes from the River Bush.  And since in the 19th Century the village prospered with water-powered industries we have the name it has today.

As I walked around Bushmills I found the old mill house (hard to miss in a village this size) but as it's now a private house with signs to that effect I decided it didn't warrant a snapshot in this little blog of mine.  That's the sort of executive decision I can take nowadays...

The river is beautiful though and the water has a distinctive rich, peaty colour (not surprising given its origin in the Antrim hills).  It enters the sea at Portballantrae, under the Three Quarter Bridge mentioned in a previous post.  Here's a little photo of it:

River Bush, at Bushmills

This might be nice shot with IR film, but as I only had FP4 that'll have to do.

I like Bushmills.  It's not that big but it's honest, no pretences.  Most people just drive through it en route to the Giant's Causeway but that's their loss and probably Bushmills' gain.   This row of older houses was interesting, although the shrubs got in the way.  I probably should have returned with some secateurs or something, but wasn't sure if that's allowed - don't we have to photograph what we see? Anyway, here they are, shrubs and all:

Some houses in Bushmills

I'm not sure yet why they are there - they're next door to the Old Grammar School, designed apparently by Clough Williams-Ellis (of Portmeirion fame), so they might have been connected to that.  Anyway, I liked them and hence they are here.  Like most old things around this part of the world no doubt they will be tumbled soon, so I captured them for posterity, as you do.


There'll be more of Bushmills to come I'm sure...

Old stones

The weekends are pretty busy family affairs, what with my lovely, ever-patient wife, our daughter 'Matilda' and everything.  The 'everything' includes The Hound (our 9-year old border collie) our 5 hens and a rabbit which came to us un-announced and ended up being called 'Rooney van Ramsey' (don't ask, its a football thing made up by The Lad and Matilda).  The Lad is away working for BT this year, doing 'billing' and other important stuff while he takes a break from Uni, so he isn't around much at the minute.  Matilda likes a swim, as do I (good for General Fitness as well as the A.S.) - it's a bit of father-daughter 'bonding' time as well, which is great.   So no, I don't get in the darkroom much at weekends - although I did sneak a little 35mm film into a tank of Infosol3 at 1:14 dilution for 7 and-a-half minutes early this morning when the house was quiet.  The film is hanging in the 'drying cupboard' as I type.  With a bit of luck I might get something printed tomorrow.

The mild spell continues and this afternoon we headed down to Portstewart to see the craic.  Today, the last Sunday in September, was a Big Day in times gone bye.  Known as Chaghera Sunday, it signalled the end of the annual harvest and presumably that meant a rare day off for the labourers, and to Portstewart they would head.  The name apparently comes from a mix of Cookstown and Maghera, two county towns a good bit inland from here.  These days it means everyone drives their car along The Prom, takes the air, gets an ice-cream and generally has a good gawk at everyone else, as is the local custom.  One lap of The Prom and that was enough for us - too busy.  But Matilda enjoyed it, entering The Hound for the Dog Show (didn't win - are the judges blind??) and getting an ice-cream, so all is good.

So for your entertainment here is a print I made of some stones and some wood.

Rock Castle Salmon House, c1600

These particular stones form part of a little cottage in Portstewart which was used by salmon fishermen and dates from around 1600.  Well, I'm guessing the mortar doesn't date from 1600 and nor does the wood where the window would have been, but you get the idea.  Of course The Brother would by now be instigating a philosophical discussion about what it is that gives a building it's building-ness, or some such.  All you have to do to get him started is ask a seemingly innocuous question, such as 'What is a thing?' and he's off, although he'll usually start by informing you (non-too-politely, it has to be said), that that is the wrong question and you should be asking 'Why is a thing?'.  Several hours later and you're trying desperately to cling on to what is by now a distant memory of something - anything - that is real, tangible and understandable in what passes for 'your life'.  That's philosophy for you.

Anyway, this particular cottage-thing lies just in front of Low Rock Castle - famous as the birthplace of Field Marshall Sir George White VC, himself of the Siege of Ladysmith fame.  That house was tumbled only recently and has since been converted into a gated community of expensive town houses and apartments.  Gated community?  In Portstewart?  At least the Salmon Cottage remains, although all boarded up as you can see.