"RING a ring o' roses. A pocket full of posies. Atishoo. Atishoo. We all fall down." With that, we all looked at each other, smiled nervously, and then plunged downwards into the icy waters of the White Fathers Cave.
I haven't sung the famous nursery rhyme with my children since they were knee-high to a stalagmite. But now both are teenagers, and we link hands once again, along with their mother and our guide, before sinking under the surface.
As guide Marius
had explained moments earlier, this is an adventure-caving initiation rite that has to be completed. An hour into our trip through the dark recesses of the cave, a dunk in the chilly, chest-high waters doesn't seem too much of a hardship anyway. Compared to the annual ordeal of the students who, for a dare, go through the cave in freezing March – without wetsuits – we are comparatively snug.
The White Fathers is a limestone cave on the County Fermanagh border of Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, and part of the programme offered by the Corralea Activity Centre, which is based on the shores of narrow Lough MacNean, ten miles west of Enniskillen.
It's off the radar of the Northern Ireland that most tourists know – mainly the Antrim coast, with its Bushmills whiskey distillery, Giant's Causeway, Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge and pristine Atlantic beaches. But it scores highly for a family with two older teenagers who fancy trying a different holiday experience in a different part of the six counties. We want to bond through shared activities, and over the next few days of caving, climbing, canoeing, surfing and cooking, there are more than a few sticky moments.
It doesn't even matter that the rain is – once again – threatening, as we don our wetsuits, wellies, hard hats and buoyancy aids and descend into the mouth of the cave. We are very voluntarily going to get wet. The slippery rocks underfoot lead away into the darkness, and we switch on our helmet lights to ease our advance into the deepening river. Some creatures – apart from Marius – even like it down here. Among the typical rock formations of a limestone cave, large spiders (which survive on an abundant diet of flies blown downriver by draughts) hang contentedly from the roof.
The moment our wellies first fill up with icy water is slightly disconcerting, but by the time the level hits our chests we are half floating anyway. The river floor undulates, twists and turns through a dark and eerie but strangely transfixing world. On a ledge above the water, Marius halts, and we sit quietly to experience total darkness.
Then it's off the ledge for that initiation ceremony before making our way into the deepest channels. Eventually the water becomes too deep for us to walk through, and getting out of the White Fathers – named after the monastery above – involves two 30m swims. "Kick, but not too hard," advises Marius. "You don't want your wellies to come off."
We emerge cold, wet, blinking and laughing into the daylight. Never have steaming bowls of soup and mountains of chips at a nearby café tasted so good.
Not long dried out, it is time to get wet again. Back at the Corralea centre, the action is this time in the daylight and out on the lough. Wetsuits and buoyancy aids back on, we choose our canoes and paddle out to explore the wooded islands, secluded bays and reed beds beyond.
Our activity week had started two days before with a fast ferry crossing – just an hour – from Cairnryan, near Stranraer, to Larne. Skirting around Belfast and the famous lough where Titanic made its maiden voyage from the Harland and Wolff shipyards, we were heading for the Mourne Mountains in County Down and a date with rock climbing.
Picked up at the Castlewellan Forest Park Activity Centre by our Blue Lough instructor Paul, we head south through a pretty patchwork of the greenest farmland to the famous hills. In a lay-by, we halt, shoulder our outdoor suits and climbing gear, and head off to the crags above.
Had I ever dared to suggested to my daughters that early on a Monday morning we should go hill-walking, they would not have stirred from their beds. But with Paul's gentle encouragement, we are miraculously at the foot of the climb within 30 minutes. After a lesson on safely attaching the harness, clips and ropes, we are soon inching up our first rock face, with Paul holding us on a safety line above. The girls, with the agility and confidence of youth, are up in a trice. I follow gingerly, hugging the rock for all it is worth.
At the top of a second, steeper, climb, we are rewarded with views of the magnificent mountains and the rich tapestry of the Irish countryside beyond. The quickest way down is to abseil. Feed the rope through a clip, lean back, think of sitting on the loo and keeping the toilet door shut with your feet, and simply walk or bounce downwards – it sounds so easy. New skills learned, if not mastered, we return to the foot of the hill with a sense of achievement.
We need that confidence just a few days later, as we line up, wetsuits back on, on the sunlit beach at Portrush, a resort on the Antrim coast best known for its championship golf course. Here, under the careful guidance of two instructors from Troggs Surf School, we paddle out into the sea armed with only rudimentary knowledge of the sexiest watersport of all. Within an hour, I can – almost – catch a wave, paddle furiously in and get to my knees on my board before falling off. My reward is watching my flesh-and-blood being able to stand and pose like naturals. I don't know where they get it from.
Later, I get my revenge on at least one of them – courtesy of Philip White, who runs Maddybenny Riding School, in the countryside near Portrush. We are learning to trot, and after a while I, Number Three, have managed to synchronise horse and rider – if only briefly. But Number Four, one of my daughters, is bouncing around like a potato sack, and for once becomes the centre of the instructor's attention. It makes a change for me not to be the class dummy.
Of course, there are gentler and less competitive pursuits to be had too. Near the town of Dungannon, in County Tyrone, is Grange Lodge, the beautiful country home of Norah Brown MBE, who was honoured for her services to tourism in Northern Ireland. To snuggle down in Norah's kitchen while she rustles up a feast on her Aga, using the finest local ingredients, is to watch a culinary magician in action.
It's here that Norah welcomes groups of would-be cooks intent on taking home with them the skills and the recipes that can only impress their families or guests. We return with a specially tailored set of recipes designed to get a teenager through the rigorous early years of university. But what's best on the day is that you get to sample the fruits of her labours afterwards. And if mobility is a problem following Norah's wheaten bread or her white-chocolate cheesecake, then Grange Lodge is also a five-star B&B.
We had climbed, canoed, caved surfed and ridden, and – unusually – not a family squabble between us all week. We deserved a rest, and go to sleep in the secure knowledge that the following morning we will be served the best homemade strawberry jam in all the land.fact file N Ireland
Ferry company P&O Irish Sea (0871 664 4777, www.poirishsea.com) operates the fastest crossings to Northern Ireland. Prices start at £59 for a single car and driver.
For rock climbing lessons in the Mourne Mountains, contact Blue Lough (028 4377 0714, www.mountainandwater.com).
Caving and canoeing can be organised through Corralea Activity Centre (028 6638 6123, www.activityireland.com), costing from £40 for a full day.
Cookery lessons with Norah Brown start at £75, while B&B at Grange Lodge (028 8778 4212, www.grangelodgecountryhouse.com) costs from £44.50.
A two-hour surfing lesson costs £25 from Troggs Surf Shop (028 7082 5476, www.troggssurfshop.co.uk).
Riding lessons start at £17 for a 45-minute session at Maddybenny Riding Centre (028 7082 3394, www.maddybenny.com).
The full article contains 1417 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
