Port of Belfast
Sure enough a gale was blowing as I arrived in
Belfast. I made straight for the port, and to my astonishment discovered
that the sailing had not been cancelled. The bus was hidden somewhere in
the middle of Montgomery Transport lorries but it was positively going
to travel. This was the last major obstacle in the exercise.
City Airport
It was drawing dark as I drove to Belfast City Airport
to return the car. Unusually, rental cars are deposited miles away from
the terminal, which is all good and well on a fine summer’s
day. But as I stood in the magnificent desolation that is
Belfast City Airport long term car park, waiting for a bus back to
civilisation, I realised that my whole journey could end right there and
then. So I walked the half mile to the terminal building.
Chaos and Confusion
I took a taxi from the airport to the harbour. At the
terminal, the friendly Stena staff escorted me through the building, and
showed me up the stairs to the waiting area. The hall was full of
people, looking as though they were waiting for the last boat out,
before some cataclysmic event occurred. They all had the
rabbit-in-the-headlights look that said "please release me, let me
go". All the free Daily Records had been read, and lay strewn over
the floor, the seats and the humans. The pride of the Stranraer fleet
for the past 20 years - the Galloway Princess -finally docked. Suddenly
everyone was gone and I found myself on the car deck looking for SCS.
As if by magic it appeared, and as the shunter crashed the gears while
reversing it into position I almost said "be careful - that’s my
bus !"
A life on the ocean wave
The ship departed 30 minutes late, and as it cruised
up Belfast Loch, I watched the impromptu display of fireworks on all
sides. I guess this was to celebrate Guy Fawkes a week early - and
not the progress of the bus. The captain assured the ragged
passengers that the stabilisers would be in use, and amazingly they
seemed to do the job. Sailing through the pitch dark night over
stormy seas, I hadn’t felt so comfortable in a long time. Soon the
familiar sweeping light of Corsewall lighthouse was visible and I
informed those brave enough to endure the howling gale on deck, that
land was definitely ahoy. Loch Ryan was the safe haven as always and we
arrived at Stranraer only minutes late. I was pleased to be home and
even more pleased to see the bus safely unloaded and waiting for me
portside.