The cry of gulls on a grass-scented breeze...
This was my first and
last impression of the Isle of Man when we recently visited
the island for a weekend summer break.
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| Tantalising view of Port Erin as seen by cows |
It’s a really simplistic description I realise, but I have
to say for a place that has had more tenants than you can poke a three-pronged stick
at, the whole island maintains this beautiful sense of tranquillity and space.
It’s just so uncrowded that you wonder where all the people are hiding. Everywhere
we went (outside of the mildly busier towns) people greeted us with an open smile
like they were very pleased to be living there. We returned their enthusiasm happily!
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| All modern amentities |
In fact the island has a LOT to offer,
especially for the outdoorsy types, but also for those interested in history,
wildlife and also the arts- I saw a lot of very beautiful local art and crafts
during our stay.
And of course the whole island is one gorgeous scale model
of a much bigger place- it has mountains and valleys and woods and rivers and
beaches and cairns and castles and gorgeous cottages and bays full of colourful
fishing boats. Is it noticeable that I would clearly move there? Absolutely!
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| Fenella appreciating the arrival of summer |
For years I have wanted to visit the Isle of Man. I am already
a keen Anglophile, so how could I not be intrigued by a place that sits in the
sea, surrounded by England, Ireland Scotland and Wales, and yet be a place confidently
and completely its own self?
My husband Fil has family history there too, 400 years of
it; reason enough in itself to visit the place while we are living for a time
so close by in Hampshire.
Left to book our accommodation, I pick Port Erin on the
island’s south-west coast. The pictures of it’s pretty little bay win me
over easily against the bigger towns. I reason that the island’s transport
system is supposed to be good, so where we stay doesn’t matter too much.
At a fragile hour, my husband Fil, one of our sons Flynn and
I, fly over from Southampton to Ronaldsway airport, Ballasalla. It's on the east coast and just 11km south of Douglas, the
Islands capital ( may I say again how much I love small airports over
large!).
As always, as we head
toward our accommodation, I am glued to the window, taking in all the new
sights around me. It is a summer’s day, cloudy but promising to clear and the
villages and towns we pass look like we are in for some treats over the
weekend. I try and think if the countryside reminds me of anywhere else and
funnily over the next few days I will find areas that remind me of all the
countries that surround the island.
Our hotel The Falcon’s Nest looks like a rather faded
beauty, but sits in a perfect spot overlooking the beautiful bay and so we
instantly forgive her. Inside the hotel is a touch old and faded but in a way
that my husband Fil and I actually quite like (old glory days deco). I always wish I could afford to patch these old seaside beauties. It's sad to see them crumble away.
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| A Room With a bloody nice View |
13 year old Flynn is pleased to have a large room all to
himself in the family suite. I take a happy picture of the sea-view from our
window as the clouds begin to disappear.
Ooh, it’s looking mighty nice outside!
I rush everyone to explore as soon as possible. Our precious time on the Isle
of Man is ticking away!
On dropping us off at the hotel our Scottish taxi driver had
apologised to us for the slightly higher fare, explaining that it was a public
holiday.
Somehow, we have arrived on the most important Island
public holiday- Tynwald day. Tynwald is old Norse for ‘meeting place for the
assembly’. (Wiki):Tynwald meets annually
at an open air ceremony at Tynwald Hill at St John's Isle of Man presides, unless The Queen as Lord of Man
or a member of the Royal Family, is present. Here, all laws are promulgated and
special petitions are received. Boring politics done in an interesting way!
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| Church of EpiPen |
Needless to say because of this,
Port Erin was very quiet and most things in town were closed.
Fine by us as
there is so much to do anyway. We decide to visit nearby Cregneash which is a
gorgeous working village owned by the Manx National Heritage (we are delighted
to discover our National Trust Membership is valid here).
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| Better weeds than I have flowers |
Everyone working in
the village is dressed in traditional clothes. I’m not certain what year it’s
all set in but lets say, pre-electricity and pre-motor anything. All the little
whitewashed stone cottages burn peat fires and are fitted out just as they
would have once been. People give demonstrations and are happy to chat. I wring information from an obliging blacksmith- not something I normally get to do!
We watch a
fascinating short film on Manx Heritage and the village itself.
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| Cregneash, enough to make you want to unplug your phone and wear hemp |
The Manx brown four-horned
sheep called Loaghtan are kept in the
village and we meet our first, Born-on-the-island Manx cat.
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| Manx lamb- blissfully unaware four horns will soon sprout out of it's head |
There are wildflowers everywhere, especially growing out of the
side of the dry stone walls, with enormous bumblebees threading their way among
the blooms. The area is very scenic and you can easily believe you have gone back in time.
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| Dragging the boy 'round Man |
We decide to walk
back to Port Erin from the village, where we climb a hill to see an ancient
Cairn (I prefer 'fairy ring'!) and have the most amazing view over the hills and
can see the ocean on either side of the island.
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| Man and fairy ring |
There are public
footpaths dotting the whole island (although some are not tended well- VERY
tall grass- not good for the height challenged!) and we have a great walk back with a hilarious run-in with calves
who were very curious about us, then decide they are a bit nervous after all and form a very neat row of bovine curiosity behind us.
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| We like to watch |
On our return
into Port Erin, Fil bravely takes a brief dip in the Irish Sea (joined only by the brave- children!)and we finish
our day with fish and chips sitting a little hill overlooking the beach- magic!
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| Fil,( the dot furthest out from the shore), not avoiding hypothermia and basking sharks |
One of the best
things about the Isle of Man is getting to take a steam train as your mode of
transport (think Sodor and Thomas the Tank Engine).
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| Port Erin, future home? |
On day two,after a
splendid early walk along Port Erin beach, we took the earliest steam train up the east coast to
Castletown.
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| Modern transport a must |
I love the sound of steam trains- the sharp whistle always sounds
like an expression of exuberance by the trains (I know, I’m putting faces on
those trains!) and the summer air blowing in our little timber windows smelt
like cut hay-mmm J
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| Walking into Castletown |
Castletown is a
beautiful town on a river that goes into the sea. There are hanging baskets of
bright flowers everywhere and swans swimming in the river between the colourful
fishing boats.
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| Men being manly amid blooms |
Overlooking it all is Rushen Castle which was built for a Norse
king in the 1200’s. The town has lots of Georgian building and has a walled
feel to it, but is very pretty.
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| Castletown begging to be painted |
Back on the
train, our next stop is the isle of man’s capital, Douglas with it’s long
crescent of Victorian buildings along the seafront esplanade.
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| Douglas |
Behind that is a
small city- modern buildings mixed with old. After the countryside and villages
I don’t warm to it, but the Manx Museum we visit was excellent and I wished we
could have stayed longer.
Back down to the waterfront for an ice cream as we
walk the long esplanade north to catch the electric cable car to our next
stop.
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| Turkish delight, coconut lime, banoffee |
As we walk, horse-drawn trams trot past us- not surprising as the city
has a very long seafront.
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| Cor, does this pleasantness have an end? |
From Douglas we
wind our way up the cliffs (with great views back to Douglas) in our little
open-sided carriage. It’s fun but has nothing on the steam trains for both
comfort and nostalgia.
Laxey is our destination and it is here that Fil’s
ancestors lived for many years, working on the lead mines. But firstly we jump
from the electric tram to the vintage electric cable car and get a ride all the
way to the highest point on the Isle, Snaefell.
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| Old Mill café ,Laxey |
I am thrilled we have such a
lovely summers day to do it. On a clear day you can apparently see the
surrounding countries beyond the sea, but our day is a little hazy.
We don’t
mind at all as you can still see for miles over the island and it’s incredibly beautiful.
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| Smiling because we didn't have to walk up here. beautiful Snaefell view |
Back in Laxey we
now have time to explore the town a little. Our day is really a world-wind tour
as we have a lunchtime flight the next day (our choices were 12:30pm or
8:30pm!).
Laxey looks like a nice village but the whole place is overshadowed
by the huge and impressive water wheel, the Lady Isabella. The wheel is enormous, a wonderful
piece of engineering used to pump water from the mines.
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| The Lady Isabella, a buxom old lass |
Once again our National
Trust card gets us in for nothing (though we always donate a few gold coins).
We climb all the way to the top of the wheel which I do NOT enjoy! The pretty setting is no salve to my nerves against the movement
of the wheel mixed and the height of the whole thing with it's very low railings! People have gotten taller you know! (actually we did notice a lot of short people on the island- maybe I DO belong there!)
.jpg) |
| My worried face atop the Laxey Wheel |
As we leave we stare at an
enlarged old photo of miners on a board, wondering if any of them are Fil’s
ancestors. Probably not as 400 men at least worked there. The family were Dickinson's and
also Bridson's. In several places on the Island we see buildings and street
signs with these names which we think is pretty exciting.
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| Fil excited to see his name, Flynn not so much |
From Laxey we
catch the last leg of the cable car to Ramsey in the north. Everywhere we go the
towns are quiet as though mostly empty. I keep wishing we were staying until
the Monday so I could see what the island might be like on a work-day! Surely nowhere is really this quiet?
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| Ramsey |
Ramsey is another
coastal town on a river with a fleet of fishing boats. This town has more of an estuary
feel to it. The background of hills beyond the town is lovely as is the town centre. I see a few alternatively dressed people about and wonder if Ramsey might be an artists sort of town.
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| Cable car into Ramsey |
For the first time we notice groups of youths about, some
obviously up to no good.
A group of four
of them get on our bus. Though they are only probably between 12 and After two complaints to the driver, the kids are made to sit down the front and have their travel cards removed. It’s all very unpleasant (especially when we realise they too will get off in Peel!) but in the end I just feel sad for the two in the four who are the main culprits. One smelt like he had been drinking and I kept thinking: what kind of lack of support or guidance have these kids had experience with? I mean you can see that anywhere but it's just not a great way to start out in life.
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| Peel, nice town |
Luckily Peel
itself is a beautiful town and we are mostly able to forget the youths on the
bus.
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| Peel beach. Not too shabby |
The town boasts the islands other fortress castle on a rocky outcrop called St Patricks
Isle (where the saint is said to have visited and brought Christianity to the
isle of man ) right on the river mouth of a bay. The stone structure is HUGE and was where the Vikings
held power until it was moved over to Rushen in Castletown.
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| Peel castle, one heck of a lot of bucket-fulls of sand |
By now it’s
getting late and we've been on the go for twelve hours. Thank goodness for UK long summer days! We need to get
back to Port Erin and want to do so before dark so we have only a brief look at
Peel before we reluctantly move on.
Back in Port Erin
there is a gorgeous golden sunset over the bay and Fil and I sitting enjoying a
wine and ale. Watching it we are feeling very restored in all things good (of
course I’m planning in my head how I can live here!)
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| Something that goes very nicely with Pinot Grigio |
On our last day
it’s Sunday and the Isle of Man is one of those yesteryear places where most
things except chain supermarkets and pubs are closed- which I think is nice.
Consequently once again it is quiet around town and we decide that the best way
to spend the last of our time before we head to the airport is to walk up to
the nearby Bradda Glen, just up the road.
We didn’t get to visit any of
the renowned glens on the island so this is an attempt to see one before we
go.
As we walk along
the cliff-tops, we are suddenly confronted with the sight of an enormous old concrete
sea-bath, long in ruin.
We guess that in the islands tourist hey-day these
baths served the tourists, who possibly got in the way of fishing craft in the
bay. ("No, put 'im back in the water, it's just another Englishman)
It’s such a sad and wrecked monstrosity that I’m saddened it could not be
fixed. (something to do when I return!) We assume it was wrecked in stormy seas at some time after the boom and
left to rot in it’s tiny bay on the shore.
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| Port Erin...again...hey I liked it! |
Bradda Glen turns
out to be a modest sum of trees along the coastal path, with nice picnic areas and
seats to enjoy the views south across the bay. Apparently basking sharks are a
common sight around the isle and seals too, though none spring conveniently
from the water for us then and there.
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| No matter how many ales I have had I will always land on my feet. |
The morning is
humid and overcast and in a way fitting for our leaving as I am sad to go. It’s
been a lovely weekend, though in no real way just to all the island offers, but
we have enjoyed it very much all the same,
When we finally
board our plane and take off, the sun finally breaks through the clouds and we
are treated to one last glorious view of green patchwork, golden mountains and salmon
pink cliffs, and then it’s gone -back to being it’s own little secret in the
middle of the sea.
