Rock Stars
The 40,000-odd
basalt formations at the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland are nature at its
dramatic best
The wind was cold and distinctly
briny as it swept in from the Atlantic Ocean to the northern coast of Northern Ireland.
It was late afternoon, and a weak autumn sun was fighting a valiant battle with
clouds hovering against a pale blue sky. A long, winding road sloped down
between promontories to the sea. It offered intermittent glimpses of the ocean,
softly lapping against a curving bay, or of giant waves crashing against rocks.
It perfectly fit the image of wild and desolate beauty.
The path was flanked by sheer
vertical cliff sides covered in dark green moss and clumps of weird, jagged
rocks. It eventually led to a flat rocky beach with scattered rocks, framed by
the greyish-blue of the sea. Riveting as all this was, nothing was more
arresting than the masses of dramatic rocks at the end of the path. They were
almost all hexagonal, of different sizes and heights, and packed together to
form one of the most surreal sights, the Giant’s Causeway.
Nature at
Work
At this level, the wind was
whipping and slapping everything in its path. Even the guide’s commentary was
audible only in spurts, as the wind blew away the words. I gathered that the
basalt rock formations were the result of intense volcanic activity some 60
million years ago. Scientists speculate that molten lava came out through the
chalk bed and flowed through fissures; the rapidly cooling lava contracted into
masses of hexagonal pillars.
To me, it seemed a giant had
painstakingly sliced the rocks with a penknife.
Adding romance to the setting were
the accompanying myths. According to a Gaelic legend, the place was the fiefdom
of the giant Fionn mac Cumhaill (lovingly called Finn MacCool) who was
challenged to a duel by the Scottish giant Benandonner from across the ocean.
Finn accepted and built a causeway to meet his counterpart. The storyline then
gets complicated. One version says Finn returned victorious. Another says Finn
hastily returned, realising his adversary was bigger, and was pursued by
Benandonner across the causeway. Meanwhile, Finn’s wife Oonagh, a clever woman,
disguised him as a baby in a cradle. When the Scottish giant saw him, he
hastily retreated: for, if a baby was this big, its father had to be
gargantuan. While retreating, he destroyed the causeway behind him to
discourage Finn from following. It was tempting to believe the tale since I
knew of a similar set of rock formations at Fingal’s Cave on Staffa just off
Scotland, north of Giant’s Causeway!
The clusters of uniform hexagonal
pillars did seem surreal, especially one set that rose nearly 12 metres high.
There were over 40,000 pillars and they seemed of multiple colours — black,
sand, ochre, light brown… Many of the clusters also had individual names such
as Chimney Stack, the Honeycomb, the Harp, Organ, Camel’s Hump and so on.
As I gazed at them, the initial
shock wore off and I went through a passageway that led to even more fantastic groupings.
There were also plenty of walking trails to explore the surrounding cliffs and
promontories. But I was inexorably drawn to the pillars and clambered from one
to another, going up and down and across the uniform stacks. There was the
occasional nonconformist — a pillar with four, five, seven or more sides, but
these were few and far between. Some were mossy and slippery, but most had a
smooth surface, and were not as treacherous as they seemed.
When I reached a sufficiently high
vantage point, I perched on a rock, looking out towards the roiling waters of
the Atlantic. The wind carried snatches of conversations and an occasional
shout or laughter, but it was strangely peaceful despite the presence of so
many people. Soon it got eerily quiet; I realised the crowds had melted, the
intermittent sunlight had all but died and the sky had turned a vivid dark
grey. The waves seemed to have grown even more turbulent, as if the tide was
moving in.
In the fading light, the place was
all the more dramatic, the pillars appearing like sentinels.
It was time to leave and I picked
my way through the stepping stones, hurrying up the incline. But I couldn’t
help looking back every few steps, and in the growing darkness, I could only
see strange shapes. At the top of the road I turned around one last time and
stood riveted: was that Finn in the distance guarding the stacks? I was
convinced it was.
Anita
Rao-Kashi is atravel writer based in Bengaluru
ETM 19AUG18
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