(Ryckman) Giant's Causeway

Before we arrived in Belfast, we took a detour to Giant's Causeway, up by Bushmills on the North coast of Northern Ireland. Although I begrudgingly accepted my blue handheld audio guide, I skipped all the information and indoor facility-area that people pass through on their way to the trails as I had no interest in anything built by humans, especially when juxtaposed with a natural wonder such as Giant's Causeway. Its history dates back to 65 million years ago (that number almost seems cliché now) when insane tectonic shifts and fragmenting supercontinents made room for volcanic spillways that in turn formed these curious pillars, all organized like a clever puzzle. Some of them were cylindrical, while others had sharper angles and resembled octagons or hexagons. But the actual causeway is only a small part of the larger and grander site.

The visitor centre; courtesy of Insideireland.ie

I walked along a footpath that took me downhill with steep inclines on either side. The view to the left hand side looked out upon a lush, green valley enclosed by the cliffs I walked on. Tourists walked all around the designated paths, evading shuttle buses that drove the less mobile visitors to a desired destination and holding blue Gameboy-sized devices up to their ears as an Irish voice educated them on the history and myth of the natural wonder, but I noticed that this valley was completely tourist-free. I assumed, at first, that it must be off limits. The jagged rocks must be too dangerous to allow people to wander upon, and there are no dirt paths like the rest of the area. As I reached the bottom of the hill, I saw multiple uniformed officials mingling with tourists and presiding over the roped-off miniature mountain that I'm sure many people have tried to climb. I assumed, then, that they also guarded passage to the valley, as administration had determined that no man could trespass that area. I noticed a lack of rope over the path leading into the valley and took this as an invitation to explore.

AerPhoto credit: Bernd Biege via about.com

I walked down the mild slope, the dirt under my feet became grass and I felt, for a few moments secluded from the business and reputation that had developed around the Giant's Causeway. The area felt still. I felt no rushes of wind that dominated the higher points on the trails, and the lack of human movement gave the place a quiet ambience. No conversation to be heard, no digital voices from blue machines. But the blue machine still hung around my neck, a reminder that technology and business are never far, and I had an impulse to hurl the thing into the sea or bash it against the rocks and vanquish my technological overlords. But I resisted, and focused instead on the crashing of waves on the rocks and mounds of grass that had grown over itself along the path so that it was literally grass upon grass upon grass, no dirt to be found. I bid farewell to the valley, my own little paradise, and rejoined the human part of Giant's causeway.