That’s our kind of social bubble...
Now lockdown has lifted, SARAH MARSHALL discovers the natural beauty of Northern Ireland
DESPITE being one of the most in-demand items of 2020 – more coveted than a Gucci handbag, and at times just as overpriced – it’s still hard to get excited about hand sanitiser.
But the Boatyard Distillery in County Fermanagh has done its best to beautify the cleaning product. Like many producers of spirits, they switched to creating the product early in the pandemic, taking the noble decision to supply hospitals and care homes in Enniskillen with 10,000 litres free of charge.
“We had to take on extra staff; students, family friends who were stuck with nothing to do,” says founder Joe McGirr, exemplifying the kind of zeal that’s welded communities just when they’ve been forced to physically function apart.
At one point, sanitiser became the Boatyard’s mainstay, and they’ve bottled 83,000 litres to date.
Now, Joe and his team are looking forward to resuming production of their award-winning gin and vodka, supplying supermarket chains like Waitrose, right through to swanky hotels such as London’s Savoy.
On July 3, bars, restaurants, hotels and attractions reopened in Northern Ireland, and after more than 100 days of rumbling behind closed doors, the Boatyard’s gleaming copper stills are once again welcoming public tours.
When I arrive at the marina on the banks of Lough Erne, visitor ‘bubbles’ are huddled around wooden sherry barrels (used to age the Boatyard’s Old Tom Gin), spread throughout the room.
Of course, tours have been tweaked: numbers have been reduced from 25 to eight; surfaces cleaned between sessions; and there’s no more touching or sniffing botanicals. But enthusiasm and dry humour abound, meaning safety has not been at the expense of fun.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to contain yourself from hugging me,” jests our jovial, teddy bear of a compere, Stanley. When we’re allowed to enter the prized gin production parlour, where shiny, bulbous machinery could be a fit for Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, he reassures us there’s so much alcohol in the atmosphere, any traces of Covid-19 would be obliterated.
“Spray tonic and you could inhale a cocktail,” he boasts.
Scents of Italian juniper berries, Amalfi lemons and peppery sweet gale (foraged from the less sexy surrounds of Irish bogs) fill the air, along with a sense of optimism.
Although delayed by the pandemic, there are plans to convert a waterside warehouse into a glass-fronted tasting area and cocktail bar, serviced by a water taxi, dropping guests at the jetty – once the vessel has been given a ‘social distancing-friendly’ refit.
Inevitably, business has suffered during the last three months, but Joe
agrees the only way to look is ahead. Presented with a view of emerald hills seeping into smooth, cloudreflecting waters, it’s not hard to do.
A similar scene greets me at the Finn Lough resort, a 25-minute drive away.
With a collection of standalone suites and lodges spread along the water, and bubble domes occupying their own forest niche, it’s a natural fit for a, secluded retreat.
Complying with the new normal has demanded some compromises, admits co-owner Gillian Beare. High-touch points, such as cushions and bed throws, have been removed
from rooms; crockery is wrapped in tissue paper (a laudable alternative to pernicious plastics); and meals are more regimented.
Breakfast, for example, is ordered from a menu online and delivered to rooms in a wicker hamper.
Hospitality and service, however, remain the same. If anything, staff are more attentive than ever, albeit from a distance.
A transparent, plastic igloo erected by air pressure, my bubble dome is irresistibly cosy; a mood shaped by a bathtub, four-poster bed and Otis Redding spinning on a turntable. Not that it really matters.
Simply being in the forest is enough for me. Since the beginning of lockdown in March, a whole season has passed: birds have nested and chicks fledged; blossom has unfurled and cascaded like confetti.
Whether living in town or country, we’ve all become more attuned to nature. But only now, swallowed by a tangled canopy of crisp leaves glistening with raindrops, do I realise how much I’ve missed trees.
Dinner is another novelty. Aside from the immense delight of not having to cook or wash up, it feels special to dine with others, listening to the hushed voices of strangers
and the clatter of cutlery.
Gillian laments it was necessary to swap fine-dining tasting menus for a stripped back selection of pizzas, burgers and tasting bowls.
Nevertheless, every dish is freshly prepared and homemade.
We eat at a table in the library, in the shadow of a grandfather clock, but there are plans to open a new restaurant area and lough-side cabin with a firepit.
The greatest post-lockdown treat, however, is delivered by Finn Lough’s forest spa. Connected by a woodland trail, five sensory areas include a floatation room, saunas and a hot tub. The two-hour journey (in rubber slippers and a warm robe) is limited to two people at a time, making Finn Lough one of the few properties able to reopen its spa.
A ladder leads from the steaming Finnish sauna into Lough Erne. The first few steps are undeniably difficult and clunky, but grappling slippery stones with bare feet delivers a reassuring sense of connectivity. Digging my toes into soft soil, I watch a flotilla of elegant swans slice through the mist, ghost ships gliding without any course.
Perhaps it’s simply down to the invigorating cold air, but every nerve in my body is alert, finally stirred from a long, deep sleep.
A short drive from Finn Loch, the Marble Arch Caves Geopark is a highlight attraction in Fermanagh.
Operating with smaller groups, tours of the limestone caves have reopened. Guide Ian shares his 16-year passion for plants as we weave through a lost world of ancient ferns, wet ash woodland and tea-stained waterfalls tumbling over ice age carved bedding planes.
Similar temperate rainforests can be found in Greenland, he says, and once covered most of Ireland.
The environment is spectacular, but Ian’s knowledge unlocks a magical dimension: I nibble wood sorel sweeter than an apple sherbet; giggle at the phallic appearance of Lords-and-ladies plants; and marvel at high calcite tufa rock, able to petrify every living thing in its path.
Ian hopes lockdown will have given people a new appreciation for the wild world as absence makes the heart grow fonder.
For now, though, from fascinating plants to chef-cooked meals, as doors slowly open and we start to explore, every detail of re-discovery is a joy.