Waking up on St. Stephen’s Day in Dublin, I felt a quiet thrill for the journey ahead. The city was still wrapped in the lingering warmth of Christmas, and the streets were hushed in post-celebration rest. With the festive season as a backdrop, we packed up our backpacks, loaded up the car and set off toward the north, ready to chase a new adventure.

There’s something magical about a road trip—each mile offers the possibility of discovery, and every stop along the way is a story waiting to unfold. As we drove through Dublin’s outskirts, the cityscape gave way to the gentle greens of the rolling countryside. The car felt like a time capsule, carrying us from the familiar rhythms of city life to the unknown treasures of Ireland’s northern coast.

Our first destination was Carlingford, a picturesque village perched on the shores of Carlingford Lough. The drive into town was marked by the crisp stillness of the season, and as we arrived, the air carried the scent of salt from the nearby sea.

Carlingford Castle on Carlingford Lough, Carlingford, Ireland

We began with a walk along the sea wall, the sound of the water gently lapping against the wall as we took in the view. The ruins of King John’s Castle stood proudly above the lough, a testament to Carlingford’s storied past. Its stone walls seemed to whisper tales of centuries gone by, guarding the river mouth where cargo ships once passed through, carrying the lifeblood of trade.

As we wandered into the heart of the village, Carlingford unfolded like a postcard. Narrow streets with houses built right up to the footpath seemed to invite us into a world that remained unchanged by time. Each doorway hinted at daily lives we’d never know, and the vibrant colors of the buildings added a festive energy to the stillness. Hot pinks, bright blues, lime greens and the unmistakable Christmas red of the local pub created a kaleidoscope of charm among so many more colourful buildings.

It appeared to be the kind of town where time slows down, where the quiet streets—resting following a big Christmas Day—felt like an invitation to pause and simply be, or perhaps it was just because of this time of year.

We settled ourselves into a small café - Ruby Ellen’s tea rooms, for breakfast, its warmth a welcome contrast to the brisk morning air and ever so inviting On my menu was the simple but satisfying: poached eggs on toast with fresh spinach, washed down with a comforting almond milk mocha and to finish, a crisp apple juice to provide a refreshing burst of sweetness.

The café’s setting offered a stark contrast to the vibrant streets we had just wandered through. This quieter corner of Carlingford seemed steeped in history, with its bluestone buildings and cobblestone streets evoking a sense of timelessness. At the edge of the village stood the Thosel, an enduring relic of Carlingford’s medieval past. Once a bustling marketplace and administrative hub, its weathered but sturdy structure now serves as both a guardian and a frame for the town, preserving its stories for generations to come.

Colurful Carlingford, Carlingford, Ireland

Carlingford’s charm was both in its contrasts and its cohesiveness—the vibrant colors of modern life nestled comfortably against the muted tones of its past. As we left the café, I found myself already imagining a return, perhaps during summer when I pictured the town would become a thriving thoroughfare or to explore the many walking trails that locals appeared to be setting off on on this quieter brisk day.

Back in the car, we continued our journey north as the road followed the Newry River inland and hiking trails snaked along the river’s edge. As we crossed the border into Northern Ireland, the subtle shift in road signs—from kilometers to miles—marked the transition into a new phase of the trip. The change felt symbolic, as if we were stepping into a different chapter of the island’s story.

The road carried us past Belfast, its skyline just a distant blur as we bypassed the city. Instead of urban exploration, our sights were set on the Wild Atlantic Way, where nature’s grandeur awaited us. The landscape began to shift as we approached the northern coast, where the Wild Atlantic roared against rugged cliffs. The roads curved and twisted, revealing breathtaking views with every turn. This was the Ireland I had remembered from my previous trip —untamed, dramatic, and endlessly captivating.

Our next stop was the iconic Giant’s Causeway, a place steeped in myth and geological wonder.

The roadway down to the Giants Causeway, Bushmills, Northern Ireland

Walking down the windy road to the base of the hill, where the basalt columns met the sea, once again it seemed almost too perfect to be natural. I had been here once before, but it truly is a magical sight to behold. I took the time to first marvel at and then climb up and over the hexagonal stones. They appeared different this time around. Last time I remember finding the mythical giant Finn McCool’s shoe. A massive pixie shoe shaped stone that stood out amongst the hexagons, but today it was lost to me. Climbing over the giant stone structures I couldn’t help but imagine the mythical giant building this causeway to Scotland. The rugged beauty of the place is matched only by its sense of mystery, again leaving me in awe of both nature’s power and the stories it inspires.

As the day began to fade, we made our way to Portrush, a charming seaside town that would be our home for the night. After checking into our hotel, we treated ourselves to a celebratory beverage. In this part of Ireland the Irish cider of choice is of course, a Magners. Best served, in my opinion, in a pint glass and over ice! It really did feel like I had come home again!

Dinner that evening was at a local pub, where the warmth of Irish culture and the buzz of conversation created the perfect end to the day. Rugged up against the evening chill, we savored every bit that we could have our short time here. Walking back to our hotel, Portrush, like Carlingford, had a quiet magic to it. The town’s peaceful streets seemed to reflect the gentle rhythm of life here—a rhythm that invites visitors to slow down and take it all in.

Reflections on the Road

Road trips have a way of distilling life into its simplest pleasures: the joy of discovery, the comfort of a good meal, and the beauty of the world outside your window. This journey through Ireland’s northern reaches was no different. From the vibrant charm of Carlingford to the wild beauty of the Giant’s Causeway and the quiet allure of Portrush, each stop offered a unique glimpse into this land’s rich tapestry.

As we prepared to leave Portrush and continue our journey, I truely did find myself already longing to return. For now, though, I would carry these moments with me—snapshots of a road trip that will remain etched in my memory as a journey of wonder and discovery.

To me this is what travel is all about: finding the extraordinary in the everyday, and allowing the world to surprise you in ways both big and small. Ireland, with its endless beauty and timeless charm, has done just that once again. And for that, I am grateful