18th May 2022
From Bangor it is an easy train ride into Belfast. We got off the train at the Titanic Quarter, from where it was a surprisingly long walk beside fast busy roads to get to the Titanic Museum.
Belfast is proud of its association with the Titanic. The main thing that people remember about the ship is that she sank on her maiden voyage in 1912, so you might have thought that the city would prefer to talk about something else. But the museum tells the whole story of the ship, from the rise of transatlantic cruisers to the design and building of this gigantic vessel, and it reminds us that it was an awe-inspiring feat of engineering on a vaster scale than had ever been seen before. Visitors are given a vivid picture of what it was like to be one of the workers involved in its construction, spending long days in heavy physical work, in intense heat and deafening noise. The museum has footage of riveters working in pairs, hammering the rivet with alternating blows at a dizzying rate and perfect coordination: a mesmerising combination of virtuoso skill and sheer brute force. It's clear that these men were proud of working on the Titanic.
The museum then takes you through the excitement of the launch. A wrap-around CGI display takes the visitor on a tour of the ship, from the depths of the engine room, up through the cheaper cabins to the opulent luxury of the first-class accommodation, and finally on to the open deck with views of the Atlantic.
Then the horror of the unthinkable collision with the iceberg, and the stiff-upper-lipped communications between the captains of the Titanic and the Carpathia (the ship that came to the scene to assist), calling each other 'Old man' as if they were drinking brandy in their club instead of dealing with a colossal emergency.
After this there is the story of the aftermath, the safety regulations that were passed following the public inquiry, and the discovery of the wreck in 1985, 3,784m down.
After visiting the museum we took a taxi to The Crown, a Victorian pub with fabulously ornate decorations. Downstairs there are wooden booths with closing doors, designed to enable respectable folk to drink without being seen. In the evenings it is still lit by gas.
On the way back to the station we looked in the cathedral. We were greeted by a friendly but softly-spoken member of staff wearing a full face Covid visor, who told us 'Mmbrg dnrh glmmbmm,' which it turned out meant that the cathedral was about to close. But we still had a chance to have a quick look at some of the angelic décor.
Then back to Bangor on the train. That evening we dined at the Royal Ulster Yacht Club, a place of reassuringly old-fashioned charm sporting photos of a youthful Duke of Edinburgh. Wooden panels displayed the names of the club's officers, picked out in gold lettering: commodores, rear-commodores and the like. We had a good meal looking over the bay, watching the surface of the sea being crumpled by strong gusts and wondering what our passage would be like the next day. On the walk back to the boat we got drenched to the skin.
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