The Ash Stripe

Explorer Tom Shane's Castle in County Antrim would bring a brick and a standing stone to any party, because that’s all it has left. It sits by Lough Neagh looking like it lost an argument with gravity, but it still manages to look quite majestic in the sunset light. Pop by and tell it it's looking well.

Explorer Tom Shane’s Castle in Shanes Castle Park is ruins, but it looks like it just stepped out for a smoke break. The tower-house is still standing tall, probably judging your shoes. Bring the dog, it'll have opinions.

Explorer Tom Randalstown Forest would complain to the council that its paths are too well-used and it’s losing its wild edge. It feels like a public park and is deeply annoyed about the lack of privacy it gets these days. Bring wellies and low expectations, leave delighted.

Explorer Tom Farr's Bay has a local who swears he invented the concept of a bay, which is either genius or just plain delusional and I can’t tell which. He probably thinks he owns the tide now. It's the kind of place that makes a dull Tuesday interesting.

Explorer Tom Randalstown Bridge has been crossing the same water since the 1760s and is tired of hearing about it. I heard it was nearly sold to a horse trader once, which explains its grumpy face today. It's free, it's odd, what more do you want?

Explorer Tom Randalstown Presbyterian Church is an old congregation that probably still thinks the world revolves around Sunday sermons. Grade A listed, so treat it with respect, or at least a nod. The rabbits inside are definitely judging your outfit. A proper spot for a flask of tea and a big think.

Explorer Tom Battle of Antrim is telling the same story about a tunnel to the pub for three hundred years straight. Bring a notebook and write the bit I made up so you can quote me later.

Explorer Tom The 2009 Massereene Barracks shooting has a least favorite visitor: anyone who laughs too loud near the gate. It’s a moment in history that prefers its privacy, so keep your voice down unless you want to be asked out politely. Go in good boots and better humour.

Explorer Tom Antrim Castle Gardens still keep their long canals, clipped hedges and an old castle mound even though the castle itself was lost to fire. Clotworthy House stands within the grounds as an arts and heritage space; I came looking for turrets and found that a garden can hold its own court without a roof. The formal layout reaches back to the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. Paths lead beside water, through the wooded Wilderness and towards the round pond and parterre. The castle burned in 1922 and its ruins were later removed, so do not expect an intact fortress. Look instead at how the surviving garden shapes the walk: straight lines, sudden openings and places to pause were all part of its design. Clotworthy House began as a nineteenth-century stable and coach-house complex. Today its visitor spaces include art displays and a garden heritage exhibition. Walk from the building into the grounds and then look back at it; this was once a working part of the estate, not the grand house. I could claim the old horses still give directions from the courtyard, but the signs and garden paths are rather more reliable. Antrim and Newtownabbey Borough Council welcomes visitors to the gardens and Clotworthy House, while individual events may affect access. Check current arrangements before travelling. Give the water gardens and older mound time before heading indoors, and then use the heritage displays to make sense of what you have seen. Antrim kept the best part of its castle story growing in the open air.

Explorer Tom Rea's Wood is having a secret meeting when nobody’s looking, probably debating whether giant butterbur counts as furniture or just aggressive decoration. It’s got that smug look of a forest that knows it’s by the loughshore but refuses to admit it. Hum something sad nearby for atmosphere.

Explorer Tom Antrim Round Tower rises beside Steeple Road like a stone exclamation mark that the town forgot to remove, though nobody with sense would want it gone. Known locally as the Steeple, this 28-metre survivor points to an early monastery; Tom suspects it also once warned monks that the kettle was on. The tower was built around the tenth century as a bell tower for Antrim's monastic settlement. That gives the place a much older story than the houses and traffic around it suggest. The monastery was burned in 1147, yet the tower still stands, an unusually tall reminder that a community prayed, worked and rang bells here long before today's town grew around the site. Walk around the outside and let the proportions do their trick: the narrow shaft pulls your eye skyward while its stonework keeps both feet firmly in Antrim. The name Steeple has stuck in everyday local speech, although this is an Irish round tower rather than a church steeple. I would not take the nickname as permission to demand a staircase and a rooftop view; the attraction is the ancient structure and its setting, seen safely from the ground. Northern Ireland's Department for Communities lists Antrim Round Tower as a free site open to the public, while warning that works can sometimes restrict access. Check its current notice before setting off, then find the tower on Steeple Road and give it more than a drive-by glance. Tom's imaginary bell has been ringing for a thousand years; the real stone is impressive enough without the sound effects.

Explorer Tom Holy well in Cranfield is guarding its secrets behind a tree dressed like a Halloween ghost. People tie rags there hoping for luck, but I suspect it’s just holding onto old socks. Bring a notebook and write down the bit I made up about the sock fairy.