Travelling in the UK in 1990 created lasting memories and no more than a visit to Belfast, Northern Ireland.
I'd travelled north through Scotland before crossing to Northern Ireland from the Scottish port of Stranraer to Larne, north of Belfast.
First impressions always last, and the people of Northern Ireland are friendly and hospitable. Hitchhiking north of Larne, many motorists signalled with hand gestures as they passed. The hand, with the back of the hand facing me, pointing left or right. I would later learn that these gestures were simply meaning, "Sorry, I'm turning ahead' so they were unable to offer a lift. I of course learnt this very important information at a pub in the small town of BallyGally. Despite the very polite hand gestures, it didn't take long for someone to offer me a lift, and hitchhiking through Northern Ireland was very easy indeed.
I was warned to avoid the city of Belfast due to the continued fighting between the Britsh and IRA. My first impressions were not great. I arrived by bus late on a Sunday afternoon in the centre of Belfast. It was like a ghost town, not a soul to be seen. Within a few minutes, a heavily armoured vehicle passed with armed British soldiers on the top. This was no casual military ride. The soldiers were alert, armed and ready. I had already had my old 35mm film camera out and decided to take a photo of the armoured vehicle with the emptiness of the city in the background. That did not go down well at all. The vehicle immediately slowed and circled back; about 4 British soldiers exited the vehicle and approached me. They proceeded to inform me that photos were not permitted of any soldiers, vehicles, police stations, or any British military compounds. At that point, I thought they were going to confiscate my camera, but they would end up only removing the film. Fortunately, it was a relatively new roll of film with not too many photos on it.
Days later, I would join a small group of travellers from the Youth Hostel and spend the day in the centre of Belfast. The city is now busy and thriving like any other major city. There was myself, my new friend Ray from the US and two male travellers from France and Italy, both in their early 20's. I'd told the guys about the incident, taking photos of the army vehicle and losing my film. As a similar vehicle approached us, I nudged the guys, pointed and said, "That's like the ones that took my film" Well ... another big mistake. The British soldier on the top of the vehicle noticed our attention, raised his weapon to his eye and pointed the gun at us, looking directly down the scope. Just those few brief seconds were unnerving, to say the least. This was a very clear and intentional attempt to be intimidating. It worked. Unfortunately, the Italian traveller almost fainted and needed to sit down for a while on the steps of a shop front. He would then sadly return to the Hostel and leave Belfast with his French travelling companion. Who can blame him?
Walking Falls Road
Ray and I decided to continue and try to understand why these British soldiers were so aggressive, why they were so 'on-edge' and more about the political unrest in the city. People often talk about how friendly the Thai and Indonesian people are; make no mistake, the people of Northern Ireland are on par with some of the most warm and welcoming nationalities I've ever met. It was hard to fathom the hatred and horrors that had occurred between the Protestant Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and the Catholic Irish Republican Army (IRA) in Northern Ireland.
Ray is an American from Queens in New York. Our meeting in Belfast would be the beginning of a lasting friendship even though we reside thousands of kilometres across the globe from each other. On this day in Belfast, he was wearing US Army green pants. It was a trend at the time, just like wearing cargo pants but probably not great in the environment and it certainly turned a few heads as we walked the streets of Belfast.
We headed west toward the infamous Falls Road, not on purpose. I was stunned at the amount of security surrounding establishments such as Hospitals, shops and even local pubs. The hospital resembled a jail with high fencing and barbed wire the full length of the hospital. The entrance to a pub had a cage around it and most shops would have iron bars on the windows.
We would walk along Falls Road until we came across the Belfast Peace Wall. It was a somewhat Berlin-style Wall, but on a much smaller scale, separating the Catholics from the Protestants. Walking the length of the wall and reading the graffiti, it wasn't hard to determine which side we were on. UVF was sprayed in large letters supporting the British involvement in the Belfast conflict.
As we walked down the Peace Wall, we came across a military roadblock. A heavily fortified post, walls and blockages stopped all vehicles from a direct route through the road. Multiple armed British guards. You were unable to see on the other side of the blockade due to the high walls that were offset on each side, requiring vehicles to go around each wall in an 'S' shape. As we slowly approached the military stop, we asked what was behind the walls and if we could access the road back to the city as there was no other way to go, other than back the way we came. A British Military soldier, through a very small opening of a very thick wall, said. "Don't go through there, it's dangerous and full of scumbags". He would then go on to tell us how they were recently attacked by the IRA just a few hundred metres away. Chips out of the brickwork would confirm shots were fired at the compound at some point in time. This would explain why the British Military soldiers were so serious and fully protected and equipped with vests and armoured vehicles.
Nervous and unsure we discussed returning back, but we had been walking for almost 2 hours and didn't feel like going back the long way. We agreed to poke our heads around the walls and determine if we should go ahead. My heart was pounding, and it took some nerves to move forward ever so slowly. British soldiers just stared at us. That didn't help. Our first glimpse around the roadblock showed what looked to be a T intersection about 50m ahead. There was nothing unusual; it looked like your average suburban street. Cautiously proceeding to the intersection, we stopped and looked both ways and again behind us. There was a good minute of silence, slightly stunned, a scratch of our head and a sigh. A small chuckle followed this. Ray says to me, "Didn't we just walk down this road?" He was correct. We had come full circle back onto Falls Road. We had effectively walked the entire length of the Falls Road, passed what is now the Booby Sands Mural, turned right onto Governors Road, and followed the Peace Wall back down to the Falls Road in a full loop.
There was a sigh of relief because at no point did we feel unsafe walking down Falls Road earlier in the day.
The diagram below shows our walk from the centre of Belfast. The green line is the Belfast Peace Wall and the position of the Military roadblock, just a few metres back off the Falls Road.
Have you got any posters? 😳
Ray is a great guy, but he did scare the crap out of me. Given we'd already walked the full length of the Falls Road, we decided to walk toward the offices of Sinn Fein. Sinn Fien was the political party tied closely to the IRA. The British Government referred to the IRA as a terrorist organisation.
As we got closer to the building, Ray would say let's go knock on the door!. to my reply, "Are you mad? What's it for?" Without hesitation, he knocked firmly on the door. I was white as a ghost. There was a small opening in the centre of the very thick, solid door, no bigger than a few inches. It opens, and the guy asks what do you want?. Ray says, "Have you got any posters". Well ..... at this point im pretty sure a little bit of wee came out of me. I again looked at Ray with that; what the hell look? There's an awkward silence, and then the door opens. It's a townhouse-style building with stairs directly inside, taking you upstairs with a small dark room off the entry door. The guy invites us inside, closes the door and in one hand holds a handgun and, with the other hand, requests to pat us down. At no point did he point the gun at us nor threaten us with it. Strangely I didn't feel as much fear as I did around the British soldiers earlier in the day, but I was still unnerved and concerned about what was next. 10 minutes passed and a gentleman with a thick black beard and just as thick Irish accent entered the room. The accent was almost too difficult to understand. It's Gerry Adams. Ray again asks for posters, saying he'd like to take them back to his Irish friend in New York. Throughout Falls Road, on walls, on light poles and bus shelters, there were political prisoner posters. Without hesitation and a smile, Gerry Adams says sure, come upstairs. It was almost like he'd received this request before, and it wasn't a problem. Not the response I was expecting. Upstairs was a small office, and nobody but Gerry was in it. quite messy with paperwork and books. He looks through the office and finds a number of black and white posters. He asks Ray how many he'd like.
Gerry would then take the time to ask us what we knew about the political situation in Northern Ireland and would explain in detail what Sinn Fien was standing for and the sacrifices many Irish would make for their country. We would never question him about terrorist activities or the bombings they claimed responsibility for. In the end, he looked at me and said I want to give you something to read. We headed downstairs, and after someone had given the all-clear, we exited the building and walked next door, where he would give me a book titled Belfast Graves. I still have this book today. It's a book dedicated to the many members of the Irish Republican Army who lost their lives for their cause. What makes the book unique is it names the members of the IRA, how they died and their active contribution and history with the IRA. None more relevant than Bobby Sands.
It was far too difficult and dangerous to take photos openly on Falls Road, especially outside of the Sinn Fein offices, and I didn't want to make the same mistake and have my film taken.
This photo below was taken from within my bag so as not to be noticed. It's taken on Falls Road towards the Sinn Fein offices in the distance on the righthand side of the road in the very centre of the photo. These very unassuming buildings are in the middle of mixed businesses and residential houses.
Sorry .... no tattoo today
As part of our visit to Belfast, Ray and I decided to both get a tattoo. We'd spend hours at the Youth Hostel designing our ink. Ray had a Greek-style sun face that he planned to get on the outside of his leg, just above the ankle. For me, I designed an Australian flag with a Southern Cross and the Union Jack as a teardrop through the middle. Less adventurist and still unsure I wanted a publically visible tattoo, I'd planned to get this on my upper bum area hidden just below the underwear line.
We had headed into the city to a tattoo parlour on Shankhill Road, on the Protestant side of town, on the other side of Catholic Falls Road. The tattooist was alone, and Ray had volunteered to go first. He had his leg shaved, the stencil finished and was ready to start.
Then ... a huge explosion. A bomb, somewhere a few miles away. It was not too close, but it was close enough to startle people on the street and for people in shops to come out and look to see what was happening. A slight dust cloud drifted over the streets. There was no panic or major concern from locals, but we couldn't determine how close it was or if there was any further risk. We both decided it was time to leave. The tattooist was keen to continue and wasn't too happy we'd be leaving. He would end up charging Ray around 20 pounds for his time to shave and print off the stencil onto his leg. That's probably fair enough. We would leave Belfast with mixed feelings. We planned to go our separate ways and then meet up again in London, where we'd try again to get the tattoos. We did catch up in London but never did go ahead with the tattoos.
Northern Ireland was a remarkable place, full of warmth and friendly people but also so on edge and tense. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the residents of Northern Ireland, in particular, Belfast, who prayed for peace and were caught up in the unrest.
I certainly don't support the actions of the IRA during the 70's-90s and the innocent lives affected by their actions, but I also felt very unsafe from my encounters with British soldiers. I understand they were in a period of heightened threat and alert, but I found some of their actions and engagements intimidating and unnecessary.
About the Author
The author of this blog, unless otherwise noted, has no affiliation with any property or business linked in this article. Unless otherwise noted, there is no free accommodation or payment from any businesses. The information contained in this blog is strictly the views of the author and not professional advice. The author of this BookDirect blog is a travel and tourism professional with over 30 years of experience in international hotel management, global travel, short-term rental management and a tourism awards judge specialising in accommodation and attractions.
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