Lost in nature's magical watery world

TALES OF TRAVEL ADDICT: Ever since I learnt that one-third of Fermanagh is water and the county has one-third of Northern Ireland…

TALES OF TRAVEL ADDICT:Ever since I learnt that one-third of Fermanagh is water and the county has one-third of Northern Ireland's forestry, I've been eager to have a poke around.

The inaugural Happy Days Beckett festival in Enniskillen last August seemed the perfect opportunity, and I signed up for as many talks, plays and exhibitions as I could afford. In case I grew weary of Beckett, I wangled the use of a rental cottage in the walled garden of Belle Isle Castle on a 435-acre estate spread over eight islands on Upper Lough Erne. It’s near Enniskillen, but just far enough away to seem truly remote, and alluringly separated from the real world by an old Victorian bridge.

It turned out to be the most enjoyable holiday of the year. First, there was Cuilcagh Mountain Park where I walked for hours through wild moorland, seeing hares and hawks, but no humans. Then the Magho Cliffs, where I climbed through the Nordic thicket of Lough Navar forest overlooking Lower Lough Erne. At times, it felt like the wilds of Alaska, especially when the trail markers disappeared, extending my walk by two hours. I got to experience that riveting sensation of being truly lost in nature.

The whole magical water world realm of Fermanagh entranced me. Wherever I turned were pristine lakes, dense forest and richly wooded islands scattered with ecclesiastical antiquities. It was hard at times to turn back to the Beckett events, though most proved worthwhile. Each evening I crossed the bridge back to Belle Isle, which feels unchanged since parts of the Annals of Ulster were written there in the 15th century; a lost aqueous world of waterfowl and aquatint reedy meadows.

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I stayed in an 18th century gardener’s cottage and one morning I looked out from my mahogany sleigh bed to see a woman in a straw hat gathering peas in a wicker basket with a labrador nuzzling hens at her feet. She was probably attending the cookery school at Belle Isle, but she looked like an apparition from the 18th century. I watched her walk off along the rose-lined yew trail as swallows dived for flies that sparkled in the sun.

As soon as the weather improves, I’ll return to Fermanagh. I want to visit Boa Island, Crom Castle, the ancient statues on White Island, and to walk trails in the Marble Arch caves Global Geopark, which is a Unesco-

designated area of exceptional geological heritage, and temptingly near Neven Maguire’s restaurant in Blacklion. One of my first acts en route to Enniskillen this time was to stop at The Kissin Crust in Lisnaskea to get caramel slices and snowballs. I noticed the Orange Order’s Union flags billowing on the lampposts, and wondered if I was really welcome here at all.

Part of me realises that those flags aren’t meant to be threatening anymore, they are simply expressions of a different culture. It’s just hard to always keep it in mind.