Paul Balm reviews a weekend spent in Belfast for the Panthers 2025-26 double header chronicling the various travel woes, pubs, a brief mention of the hockey and time spent with friends.
Before we get started on our tale of Belfast, ferries, pints, delays, pints, coming full circle, pints, joy and more pints (notice I didn’t mention ice hockey?) I need to make a confession. I decided before we set off that this would be my last trip to Belfast. It was getting too expensive, the travel took too long and me going stopped other people from shortening their journey times massively by just flying. I told my travelling companions as we drove north of my decision and the various reasons and I don’t think there was much disagreement which was nice to know.
Anyway, on to the story.
Seven thirty on a Thursday morning doesn’t really exist when you’re retired and it all came as a bit of a shock to me as Ant picked me up and we headed across to get Jono. It was all necessary as we had to be in Cairnryan to get a ferry by about two thirty that day. The ferry was on time (we’d checked) and we set off north. Wetherby services saw me eat the worst bacon and sausage cob on record and another check on the ferry schedule that showed us that our ferry was delayed by about two hours meaning we wouldn’t be getting to Belfast until about eight o’clock. Undeterred we pushed onwards up to Scotch Corner and over the Pennines on the A66. Luckily the weather was bright and sunny as we enjoyed the scenery as we crossed the backbone of England heading for Penrith. So often as we’d crossed those hills the sky would be as grey as the houses that dot the side of the road but today was beautiful. Maybe this was an omen for what was to come.
A stop at Southwaite services just south of Gretna Green saw Jono followed by a massive raven that clearly had its beady eye on his steak bake. The corvid’s gaze was enough to force Jono to a different car, a fact we would not let him forget. After a trip through the delights of Gretna Green (caused by taking the wrong turning) we were across the border and heading towards Cairnryan via the delights of the Devil’s Porridge Exhibition amongst other places.
It’s probably at this point that I should point out to those of you who might want to try a journey like this that it is very important to know the route you are going on and not just follow the sat nav. We knew the road to Stranraer was the A75 and we were following it until we hit a buildup of traffic around a place called Crocketford. All of a sudden, the sat nav told us there was another way that would save us 10 minutes. A whole 10-minute saving sounded good to us, despite the fact we’d got a two-hour ferry delay so we took it. Now they say that if you really want to see somewhere you want to get off the main roads on to the back roads. Now this road was definitely that. We had everything! We had lochs, monuments, swathes of forest, horses (mistaken for cows), ponies, cows, goats and warnings of red squirrels and deer. What we didn’t see for the entire journey, apart from a minibus, was another vehicle going in our direction. Not that we could tell what direction we were going in, the road went left and right, up and down until we had no idea where we were. Eventually, after a fair few minutes we emerged back on to the road we’d left and onwards towards Stranraer and Cairnryan.
After a pit stop in Stranraer for food and petrol we headed to Cairnryan and got checked in, had a coffee and sat and waited for two hours watching Deal or No Deal and Tipping Point, commenting on how little knowledge you actually needed to play either of them. Fortunately, Stena Line had more amenities at Cairnryan than P&O did back in 2013. We’d have all died of boredom if that had been the case.
After that we were ushered on to our ferry, not by catching a bus that dropped us off inside the ferry, but via a walkway that made us feel that we were walking halfway to Ireland before we even set foot on a ferry. We eventually got on the ferry, found a seat, waited for the bar too open and checked the shop for massive Toblerones. Exactly two and a half hours late we were underway heading for Ireland.
Now we had another group of friends who were flying to Belfast who were due to get there at the same time as we did. They along with practically all the flights across were delayed so we spent some of our time watching the status of their flight. They were delayed at that point with things not looking great for them. After deciding there was nothing we could do for them, we shrugged our shoulders and settled with a pint of lager or the black stuff as we watched the Scottish coastline disappear and the Ireland appear in the distance.
After a relaxing journey we got to Belfast at about 8:30 and after another long walkway we ended up back on dry land (apart from the fact it was raining) and head in a cab to our apartment with the news that our friends flight had been cancelled again and they would be flying out on a rescue mission sometime the following day. This was the second year they had been delayed like this and there was much talk about how getting a ferry made more sense even if you lost a lot more time.
My advice to anyone going to Belfast for the first time is spend as little time as you can in your apartment. Get out there, get in the pubs, see the city and soak it all in. If you have to go to the hockey, go to the hockey, but that’s just personal choice. With all that in mind we headed to The Crown Liquor Saloon (to give it it’s full name) for a couple of drinks. If you’re in Belfast you have to head here for a drink. This article contains a number of pubs – all worth a visit but this one is really up there for its Victorian décor, booths and just general oldness. After we got kicked out of there (they’d called last orders) we head next door but one to Robinsons (or Fibber MacGee’s depending on which door you use). This is another pub that’s worth it for the décor, with the walls lined with Titanic memorabilia. Anyway, after a few pints of Harp it was time to head back to the apartment and bed with a hope for more fun the next day and that our friends would arrive.
I woke up early on Friday as I always seem to do and went for a walk through the city just as it started opening up. Another bright sunny day shone down after the rain the previous evening and my hangover felt eased. It definitely felt better after a slow breakfast where I discovered that an Ulster Fry contains a lot of bread – soda bread, potato bread, toast etc. Once that had been consumed, we headed for a pub we’d been talking about for a while – The Sunflower. It’s a little bit of what Ireland used to be like as it still had the cage around the door to allow them to regulate who came in and out.
The Sunflower, apart from being a really nice pub with a great selection of beers, was also were me and Jono came full circle. Back in 2005 we stayed in a fairly grim hostel across the road from the Sunflower and had a room that looked down on the pub and it’s gate. The hostel is now nothing more than a pile of rubble and I wish I could say that I was saddened to see it go but to be honest I’m quite glad.
By the time we got there our number had swelled to 6 with the addition of Gergő, Aaron and Beckie, none of whom had been delayed in their travels. The news had reached us earlier in the morning that the rest would be with us at some point in the afternoon, there had been some issues with the rescue plane but they were due to set off and a feverish round of checking on the flight radar website ensued until we knew they were in the air. It was around then that news reached us that another couple of our friends were now stuck at East Midlands airport as their flight had a flat tire so we had more flights to watch for updates.
Time spent in a pub is never wasted as we chatted about everything and anything. We were even joined by three of the scratched Panthers players who came in for a pint. I could at this point tell you that Jono is only as tall as Luca Sheldon but I don’t want to upset him (Luca) by saying that. Time passed and we call kept checking the door whenever it opened to see who was coming in. Eventually Adam, Andy, Tina and Zara walked in through the door and we were all back together apart from Frankie and Steve who were still stuck in East Midlands airport with a plane that still had a flat tire (insert your own joke about the size of the jack and number of Kwik fit fitters needed to change it) and no way to change it. We wouldn’t see them until later much later… After much joking, Tina’s flying elbow leading to a flying pint, the invention of a new chant and more pints it was time to get something to eat and head to the arena.
You don’t want me to talk about the games, do you? No, good. I’ll just give a few points that struck me throughout the game today and tomorrow. Omar, if you’re reading this (and if not why not?), we need flame pots on the ice as the players come on. I don’t care how many pages of health and safety you’ll need to fill in. Get it done. Other than that, I thought the presentation and atmosphere was lifeless. Hockey in a library? We about got that right. You couldn’t tell that they were about to win the league. Maybe familiarity realty does breed contempt but even so. I left with about 10 seconds left and there were Giants fans leaving before me. I thought you were supposed to hang around when things like this happened. Is the car parking really that bad? The only other highlight of the night was watching Ken’s attempts at drumming.
After we exited the game before the celebrations could begin it was back across to the river to the only place you can go after a game (or so we thought) – The Dirty Onion for a dissection of what had gone wrong in the game and more frivolity as Adam was taken as a doppelganger of someone’s husband to be so pictures had to be taken. About an hour after the game, we were joined by Frankie and Steve who had finally made it over too late to watch the first game. After a while I tired of the proceedings and decided to call it a night after developing a plan that would leave the key in the key safe ultimately and get me back in to the apartment (we only had one key into the building so it took a bit of planning). But I managed it with the help of Jono who was still awake. My dreams of becoming an international man of mystery were quashed as soon as I saw him as I entered the building.
Saturday was fairly similar if a little rainier. After going out to buy Jono new shoes (sadly they weren’t near the kids shoes spoiling a joke I had planned) we headed out to get a drink. We had to pass up on Bittle bar as the queue was as long as the pub so we pushed on to the Duke of York. If you want to know where the Duke of York is head for the road with the umbrellas in the Cathedral quarter. Another great pub this would be our place for the afternoon as we settled in for the duration.
I think that every road trip you go on be it Scotland, Belfast or wherever needs a pub like the Duke of York. OK it won’t have beer memorabilia covering every square inch of walls and ceilings like the Duke has but it’s not always about the place it’s more about the people. We had more stupid conversations that afternoon than I can begin to regale. There were the comments about a table of four having four different types of Stout (Guinness, Murphy, Black Caffrey’s and Beamish), what happened in the box and other stories. The one story I can really remember is the conversation we had about Jono’s middle name (It’s Lionel if you didn’t know). After much protestation from him we got the details from him and I don’t think Aaron, at least has called him anything else since.
After a couple of hours of this kind of fun, we headed to Common Market to get something to eat and then we headed off to get another drink and ended up in a place called White’s Tavern. Another great pub. Where the three of us that got served gave the pub a rendition of the Zsombor song as the guitarist performed it. There is something very satisfying about walking into a pub you’ve been in before and getting a lot of strange looks as you sing at the top of your voice.
As quick as that it was game time again. Random thoughts this time:
How quiet it was – they’d just won the league and yet the place was dead.
Singing “Hockey in a Library” to them and getting no reaction at all – none.
The lackadaisical way they hand out give aways (of which there were a lot) – They ran down the aisle, waved the prize around a bit, ran back up and just handed it to someone every time. You want treats at Belfast (and by the sound of it they do) you need to sit on an aisle.
Overall, I don’t think I enjoyed the game presentation that much. I wouldn’t be overly happy if it happened that way in Nottingham but hey, each to their own.
Game over and it was time to head to the pub. After trying the Dirty Onion (massive queue), Duke of York (no queue but absolutely rammed), Whites Taven (rammed again), we ended up in a place called Monico Bar. It was half empty which made us a bit wary but after girding our loins we entered and it wasn’t half bad. It was almost entirely empty and we settled in for one of those late-night end of the weekend chats that drifts about in fits and starts with no one seeming like they want to say much. Drinks finished we drifted off into the night for food and then a final walk back through the streets of Belfast back to the apartments
Sunday saw the start of the trips back to Nottingham start with an early flight for Adam, Andy, Tina and Zara who were back in England before we’d even got up and gone for breakfast (no delays this time). Before we knew it, we were out the apartment, in a taxi and on our way to the wrong ferry terminal. Fortunately, ours was a little further down the road so we were soon there, through security and waiting again for the ferry home.
If you haven’t already got the message travelling by ferry is probably the most relaxing way of travelling. You can get up and walk about, get a drink, get food, marvel at the overly expensive perfume prices. If you’ve got kids, you can even watch a film in the onboard cinema. These boats aren’t cruise ships but they give you what you need for a two-hour crossing.
After another long walk down the walkway we were back in the car and headed south. This time we kept on the A75 and avoided any turn offs. This time we were stuck behind the Panthers travel coaches so we didn’t need the sat nav telling us where to go.
It was another quiet journey back apart from some biblical rain storms and rainbows as bright as anything I’ve ever seen. There weren’t even any ravens to follow Jono this time. Journeys to somewhere always seem shorter than journeys from somewhere and the time seemed to stretch out as we made our final stop and began the stretch home dropping Jono off and then me back home.
So that’s it, another trip done, another one for the books, but was this going to be my last one? If you’d have asked me on Saturday afternoon in the Duke or in the Sunflower or in Monico on the Saturday night I’d have said no. The fun I had and the joy that trip gave me made me want to do it again and again and again. If you asked me now as I write this, I’d have to say that the jury is undecided. All that I wrote about above was great. I felt I belonged and had something to contribute but now as the vividness of those memories start to fade, I start to think of the length of the journey and how much shorter it could be for those people around me. I know people said they would travel on the ferry again next year but for me its definite don’t know for now. We’ll see when the features are revealed.
So finally, it’s a thanks to Aaron, Adam, Andy, Beckie, Frankie, Gergő, Steve, Tina and Zara (Baubles) plus Noel, Dundee and everybody we spoke to over the weekend who made Belfast what it is.
You can follow Paul on Twitter @NotMrBalm
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