Efter avklarat brolopp, kom det både vykort, milstolpesbesked från utmaningen Giant’s Causeway och utmärkelser från både Garmin och Runkeeper!
Continuing along the coast, I arrived at the mountain cliff known as Fair Head (Binn Mhór). The huge mass, 985ft (300m) tall, which juts into the ocean for more than 3.1mi (5km), has a distinctive appearance thanks to the columns of dolerite rock that rise up the cliff face vertically, like the pipes of an organ. This geological wonder was formed 60 million years ago when a sill of igneous rock was injected between horizontal sedimentary layers formed in the Carboniferous period during seismic activity.
The view from the top was sensational. Across the churning waves, I looked all the way out across to Scotland, the islands of Jura, Islay and the Mull of Kintyre. These lands were once home to fearsome Viking settlers, and the view of them reminds me of the tale of the daughter of the chief of Rathlin.
Rathlin is the closest island to Fair Head and, back in the early medieval period, the islanders were under constant threat from their Norse neighbours. The Chieftain of this small community could never hope to muster enough fighting men to drive back the raiders. Instead, he turned to diplomacy.
Sending an envoy, he offered the Viking Lord an alliance. The Lord travelled to Rathlin and, as he stepped off his longship, he locked eyes with the Chieftain’s daughter. He felt his heart leap, and he that instant fell in love. The Lord promised an alliance on one condition: she would become his bride.
The young lady’s heart already belonged to another and, spurning her father’s wishes, she refused to countenance the match. The Lord left for his lands spurned.
Some time later, when a Viking longship arrived on their shores, the islanders expected the worst. But instead of steel and fire, the Viking envoys brought an invitation. King and daughter were to travel to Fair Head for a feast, to celebrate their new alliance and to show there was no bad blood between the two peoples.
The chieftain and his daughter arrived at Fair Head and enjoyed themselves heartily. Whole roast boar turned on spits, sparkling wine from foreign shores flowed into silver goblets, and the laughter and conversation were so ebullient that it covered the sound of the crashing waves foundering on the cliffs below.
Soon, the band struck up a tune native to the land of Ulster, and the Viking Lord approached the young woman, extending his hand in invitation to dance. As she accepted, the band picked up the tempo. Lost in the pleasure of movement, the daughter failed to realise the pair were spinning closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. Just as the music swelled in crescendo, the Viking took her in his arms, spun like a top and released her, carrying her over the cliff face and letting her fall into the abyss.
It’s not a particularly happy story, and the only lesson I feel I can take from it is ‘beware of Vikings bearing gifts, ’ but it happened here, beneath my feet, on the great cliff face of Fair Head. Oh well! On to Ballycastle.