While in Ireland earlier this year, we decided to rent a car on Sunday and drive up the coast. Ingrid mentioned going to The Giant’s Causeway, which I had never heard of, but it turned out to be delightful. We drove about three hours north of Dublin to the tip top of Northern Ireland. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that I was a little wary of traveling through Northern Ireland. Why, you might ask? I was a teenager/college student during the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. I remember the news being filled with The Troubles and stories of bombs, and blasts, and violence, and death. It’s funny how an idea, or a perception, can get stuck in your mind, even if it’s not reality anymore. The drive turned out to be lovely. The most trouble we encountered was, as a driver accustomed to driving on the right side of the road, making a right hand turn, not realizing we were crossing oncoming traffic. Oncoming traffic that happened to be very close.

We opted for the guided tour of the causeway. A few of us walked out of the visitor’s center into blustery winds and a drizzle that persistently became a respectable rain. Despite that (or maybe because of that, it seemed fitting to be exploring Ireland in the rain) we had such a fun afternoon. The tour guide was incredibly humorous, sharing the story of Fionn Mac Cumhaill and the creation of the causeway. We walked down to the water’s edge, and explored the magnificent rock formations. And walked in the presence of giants.

Looking up

Ingrid at the Causeway

Like puzzle pieces

Looking over the sea

Basalt