Belfast is quickly experienced. Makes me sad. So on to the next petrol station; I also urgently need an oil change – I’ve been on the water for just over 100 hours. My first oil change since I started in Tallinn, by the way… This shows impressively that although I cover a lot of kilometres, I don’t really spend much time driving on the water! – To get from A to B safely and quickly, that was my goal for Marko; this calculation obviously works.
In Bangor, a few kilometres outside Belfast, where the ‘energy’ is also noticeably better and life opens up horizons, I find a petrol station right on the quay – and I also find a small workshop for maintenance work that can carry out this oil change that same afternoon: together we take the boat out of the water, change two different oils and one filter in each engine (I have all that with me), put it back in the water, and I can continue… But before (or while the oil is being changed) I explore Bangor, look around for lunch, soak up the atmosphere in various bars and restaurants, and finally get stuck in a pub, where I immediately start talking to the owner.
This gastro-entrepreneur talks freshly and freely about his life and why he has found happiness in Bangor – my intuition coincides with what he says: Belfast is busy, people really work there, but it doesn’t get the ‘energy’ out, remains trapped, somehow covers itself (it is significant that the Titanic Museum, with its shining face, is located in a newly developed quarter outside the city and – like a foreign body in dreary Belfast – attracts visitors from far away and is booming; but even this neighbourhood is not really viable because it has been placed directly into the landscape by computer design, giving people no opportunity to socialise – like Brasilia, only on a much smaller scale). Bangor is by all appearances an alternative location; those who can somehow afford it move here, can ‘breathe’ and gain in quality of life. This gastro-entrepreneur with his no-frills manner also contributes to this.
The mechanics have finished changing the oil, now I clean the ArgoFram at and below the waterline, and together we can lower it back into the sea. (The cost of the crane is disproportionately more expensive than for the work well done by the mechanics. The reason: one crane for all the businesses here…) As I am surprised how quickly everything goes, I have to reorientate myself and decide where I want to go next. But I’m not going far today – I ask around which place near the border to the Irish Republic is recommended to me (which shows how spontaneous and accepting of coincidences I really am): Kilkeel, I am told, is nice; a small town that is home to the largest fishing fleet in Northern Ireland! That’s where I’m heading now.
The entrance to Kilkeel harbour is indeed breathtaking, but not because of any imposing houses or stunning architecture, nor because the harbour is so super-large (on the contrary, it is narrow and long, and I have to be very careful not to touch anything), but because of the large number and variety of fishing boats: First, at the harbour entrance and exit, are the large fishing boats that are out for days and also do some pre-processing of the catch. Further inside the harbour follow the medium-sized boats, which are operated by four to six men, and at the very back are the ‘normal’ fishing boats, which today are operated by one or two people (technology makes this possible).
Because there is hardly any space in this narrow harbour, and I go to the very back where I am looking for a place, a fisherman kindly pushes his boat to the side or hooks it up to another fishing boat so that I have direct access to the pier. Lucky me.
At the harbour itself, there is a kind of sailor’s home for the many day labourers who can be hired as needed, but somehow live outside any social structure, without family, without possessions, without prospects for anything, who forget their problems when they are on the bottle or toiling outside in the rough sea. Because without them, it wouldn’t work; the struggle for survival of this middle-class fishing industry is oppressive. – Around the harbour, a whole horde of complementary crafts and service industries depend on fishing.
Northern Ireland’s heavy industry is scrapped or largely out-migrated, the conventional fishing industry is in decline, the domestic economy is ‘manageable’ – Northern Ireland is visibly struggling. But no one is grumbling.
Boris Johnson is well received here – he successfully stood up for Northern Ireland in the negotiations surrounding the separation from the EU. Because, and this is something I only learn with such clarity from the conversations with the fishermen, the natural fish stocks are decreasing so dramatically, and everyone knows this, that the remaining fish must be divided ‘wisely’ among the riparians: Northern Ireland minus 5 %, England minus 5%, Scotland minus 5%, France minus 5% and Republic of Ireland minus 30%! Conclusion: Johnson has won the day across the board, the EU is sulking, and the neighbour to the south have not only been let down but downright punished by their ‘own’ EU for their rebellious behaviour over the past years. (Note: The Republic of Ireland was itself put under pressure by its ‘own’ EU during the Brexit negotiations and even had to abandon its very successful tax regime – and is now threatening to lose the corporations that have their tax domicile or European headquarters here [Apple, Microsoft, Google, Facebook, IBM, Xerox, Paypal, ebay, etc.], and with them thousands of jobs – while Johnson has made ‘his’ tax sovereignty safe through Brexit, thus strengthening London as a financial centre and also allowing tax havens like Jersey and Guernsey to continue to flourish).
As in any crisis, there are resourceful fishermen (nice double entendre); I speak to one of them: He comes from the Republic of Ireland and, with foresight, founded a company here in Northern Ireland shortly before the Brexit, still obtained a branch under EU law, and runs two small fishing boats with colleagues, and would even like to add a third one soon – because he has customers over there, in the Republic of Ireland, and can thus continue to supply them. He is driven by a wealth of ideas and daily commitment; he has even found a wife, they will marry soon. Then his small business will be on a completely different footing; he shows his pride, and thus motivates others as well.
While talking to the people on the pier like this, I notice how easy it is to discuss about delicate topics and how I almost feel integrated in the everyday life of these fishermen. That is travelling!