Somewhere in there is a bell that hasn't rung true since a flood, a doorway with something underfoot, and a fish that ate the city. You'll find them the hard way.
Every clue sits next to something real. Four kilometres in, you'll know more Belfast history than a walking tour that costs twice as much — you just won't have been told any of it. You'll have found it.
Because somebody, at some point, decided a bar could be heritage too. You'll understand why, standing in the doorway.
Stainless steel, lit from below, bolted onto a building that predates it by generations. Belfast does that a lot.
One's called Goliath. Guess what beat him. Between them they built more tonnage than most countries manage in a century.
Jacquard looms ran on punched cards a century before anyone called that programming. Belfast wove more damask than anywhere on earth.
The route's still being walked and checked, clue by clue, before anyone pays for it. Leave your email and you'll hear the moment that changes — nothing else. Bring a charged phone; that's the only kit required.