The Linen Hall Library

The Linenhall Library was one of the first places I discovered in Belfast. However, I’ve been reluctant to write about it until now, for fear of not doing it justice, because it really is a wonderful treasure, and it’s right in the heart of Belfast City.

The library was originally located in the White Linen Hall which occupied the site of the present day City Hall, hence the name. Also, its present location, on Donegall Square, was itself the site of a linen warehouse. The library has had its ups and downs over the years, and was almost shut down definitively in 1980, just over 200 years after its establishment as the Belfast Society for the Promoting of Knowledge. However, it seems to be thriving today, and modern concessions such as wifi, a café and an extension have not marred the unique character of the place.

Strolling in from Donegall Square, you pass under the petrified drapes of the entrance, and across the tesellated floor spelling out the institution’s name. Then, a staircase sweeps you up into the heart of the place. The members area, with its comfy seats and green-glass gooseneck reading lamps, beckons from the corner as you ascend a second staircase, leaving the bustle of the streets below even further behind. Here, the sense of stepping back in time is even greater – from the windows on this floor you cannot see the Boots, Mace, Halifax, First Trust, Marks & Spencers, etc. that brand the banks of the city’s thoroughfares with cladding and logos. Seated in your wooden chair, on the slightly leaning floor, all you see are the upper stories: the copper cupolas of City Hall, the stopped clock of the Scottish Provident building and a canopy of trees. Nothing seems to have changed over the centuries.

The Linen Hall is a place to research, to study, to relax, to have a coffee and, judging from some of the visitors, to have a snooze. It’s primarily a place to think, and there’s nowhere quite like it.

The Linen Hall Library is open Monday to Friday:  9.30am –  5.30pm and Saturday:  9.30am – 4.00pm.
Find out more on http://www.linenhall.com

Thanks to staff for allowing me to take photos.

Linen Hall Library photo collage (c) Aptalops

Divis and the Black Mountain (Das Boot, agoraphobia and geocaching)

Last week I took advantage of a rare sunny day to do some hiking in the hills around Belfast. I put on my hiking boots and backpack and drove up to Divis and the Black Mountain carpark (if you think the mountain looks daunting from central Belfast, you should know that the carpark is already quite a way up the mountain).

The area, having been in private hands for decades, is now cared for by The National Trust, and they have produced a simple map with various walking trails marked out. On the site, there are two sealed-off areas with radio and television masts. I guess that it is because these areas need occasional servicing, or the BBC’s vicious-looking guard dogs need occasional feeding, that the route that ascends to the summit of Divis (1562ft / 476m)  is a proper road, with yield signs and speed limits, etc. (no public access). As a result, you may feel that you’re not really getting out into the wild – however, it does means that the summit is accessible (I passed a family with a son in a wheelchair). Also, there are alternative, more difficult, paths (especially if you get lost…) for those who want them. And lastly, the views from the top are so stunning that it really doesn’t matter!

Boardwalk leading to the Black Mountain summit (c) Aptalops

I started with the Black Mountain. Much of this path is a wooden boardwalk which takes you across squelching bogland. The summit is marked by a stone pillar, and gives a taste of the views from the top of Divis. The view from there is even better, not only can you gaze right down the middle of Belfast Lough to Scotland beyond, but you can also see Lough Neagh from the other side. It’s pretty much a 360 degree view over Northern Ireland and, on a clear day, is just breathtaking.

After following the routes to both summits, I tried the so-called ‘Tipperary trail’ (no idea how it got this name, my guess being that it’s because it’s a long way – or maybe Germans named it? ). At a certain point down this route you need to take a left turn – I missed it, retraced my steps, and then realised that the ‘path’, which, confusingly, is given the same priority on the map as the sealed road, was actually a series of thick posts, each spaced about 20 metres apart, stretching off over bogland and the sources of several rivers. This was fine, up until the point where the posts ended – seemingly in the middle of nowhere. At this stage I followed, what I later learned, was an old famine wall leading up the side of Divis – and this is where things got interesting again.

I came across a small patch of open ground with some industrial debris laying around, and next to this, buried in the heather, a large tupperware wrapped in camouflage. I opened it (my wife, who is from ‘the North’, later warned me that one probably shouldn’t open concealed, camouflaged boxes in Belfast) to find, what I soon learned, was a ‘Geocache’. Inside I found several plastic toys, leaflets about the National Trust and a log book. If you are not familiar with geocaching, think of a global, orienteering treasure hunt, or a party that’s been going on all around you that you never noticed, or a hidden world of hiding places, GPS devices and nerds (for me, the term is not pejorative) operating below ‘muggle’ radar. Find out more on www.geocaching.com. Oh yes, and from this site I discovered that my ‘industrial debris’ was in fact the remains of a military aircraft crash from some time in the 40s.

View from the summit of the Black Mountain (c) Aptalops

The rest of my walk is inconsequential – basically aiming for the carpark once it came into view, and avoiding the bulls. As an aside – just before setting out, I had been examining the area using the Google maps satellite view. This is something I think need to stop doing as it seems to be coaxing to life some trace of agoraphobia I have buried within me.

Is it just me? Or do spaces like this and this give you the creeps?

Next step – the Mournes.

Sinclair Seamen’s Church

The Rough Guide to Ireland‘s section on Belfast has an entry for a curious church in the docklands area, situated more or less on the quay opposite the Odyssey arena. The entry invites readers to head down Dongell Quay, if the sea air is “twitching your nose”, towards the ferry terminal buildings and an unusual little church called the ‘Sinclair Seaman’s Church’. Last Wednesday, in the pouring rain, I decided to make the trip.

Sinclair Seamen’s Church, Belfast

Dating from 1857, the church is fairly unassuming from the outside – you have to enter (visits Wednesdays, 14:00 – 17:00) to see its real treasures, all on a maritime theme. The day I visited, I was met by the Reverend, who was expecting the organist, and he kindly gave me a tour of the building. A binnacle, a ship’s wheel, a bell from the HMS Hood, the mast of a boat once used to ferry Guinness up and down Dublin’s Liffey, and various other nautical equipment fill this maritime church – even the collection plates are in the shape of lifeboats. Everything is beautifully maintained.

Perhaps the most unusual feature is the pulpit. It is designed to look like the prow of a ship. The image of Orson Welles climbing up his rope ladder into the prow shaped pulpit in John Huston’s film version of Moby Dick immediately sprang to mind, because this is my only reference point for a pulpit of this type (I was also reminded of the wonderful Schiffergesellschaft in Lübeck, in former East Germany). Apparently I wasn’t the only one to be reminded of Orson’s sermon – the Reverend told me they had recently hosted a screening Moby Dick in the church.

Collection plates in shape of lifeboats

You can find out more the Sinclair Seamen’s Church on the Virtual Visit Northern Ireland site, but of course the best way to experience it is in person. And so, the next time the wind is howling and the rain is horizontal, why not venture down this way, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I will be this way again – I’ve heard great things about the Rotterdam Bar in nearby Sailortown although I fear it may already be closed for good.

A Belfast blog

Belfast from a cave on Cavehill

Belfast is my adopted city. It’s only been a few months, so I’m still in the exploratory phase, i.e. wandering around, talking to people I meet, making an effort to acclimatise.

This blog might have been called ‘A Dub in Belfast’ or ‘An Idiot in Belfast’ – in reference to where I come from (Dublin) and how daunting Belfast can seem if you’re not from here, or from Northern Ireland for that matter (the idiot part).

I’ll be posting about my discoveries. I promise to keep an open mind. Help me out if you can.