Ballaglass

The first sunhat walk of the year.

Tuesday, 30th April, 2013.

On Sunday we got a message from Dorothy "I have a cold, so I doubt if I will be out on a walk this week.  Trevor has suggested the Ballaglass Cornae walk and Tuesday has a better weather forecast.     As the walk isn't too strenuous I will come if this cold isn't a bad one."

The forecast on Monday read "A fine day tomorrow, with lots of sunshine and light winds. Top temperature around 12°C / 54°F."  And the weathermen were right, it was an absolutely glorious morning.  We met Trevor at Ballaglass Glen.  Unfortunately Dorothy wasn't with him.   She missed a special walk.

We started off through the glen and walked down to the entrance near the old mill.  Tim took this photo of me trying to get a good angle on the river.

After leaving the glen we climbed the steep tarred road up Ballachrink hill towards Cashtyl yn Ard  - a group of old stones (the remains of a Neolithic long barrow dating from about 2000BC).  The name translates as the rather over the top "Castle of the Height" but it could be a relatively recent name, maybe thought up to impress tourists.  Earlier the site was just called Ballachrink Cairn - and before that nobody knows for sure.

Alongside the path from the road to the cairn, is this old cottage - a well known image because its photo  was used by the department of tourism.  The gable end of the cottage, with the ivy growing up the wall, lost its chimney a few years ago but the ivy is still trying to grow up to its previous heights, in spite of the gales.

Behind the cottage we came across an old piece of farm machinery, rusting away in the long grass.  It reminded me of an incident a few summers ago.  We noticed a large lamb, which had crept under this contraption, apparently looking for shade from the hot sun.  The lamb panicked as we approached with the dogs and obviously couldn't find its way out again.  It took Trevor some time to release it.  While we were talking about that incident, Trevor mentioned that sheep must be very stupid because they are always getting into trouble.  When he was walking a couple of days ago he came across a sheep struggling on its back with its legs in the air - like a beetle!  He said it was a very heavy sheep but he managed to get it back on its feet.  There are a lot of sheep on the Island that have good reason to be grateful to Trevor.

The stones at Cashtyl yn Ard* must be fascinating to anyone with a knowledge of archeology - but I didn't need any specialist knowledge to appreciate the views from the ancient burial site.  They are breathtaking - and even more special when combined with the weird feeling of standing on a hill where long-forgotten ceremonies were being conducted four thousand years ago.

Tim took this photo of the stones - looking inland towards the North Barrule ridge . . .

. . . and I took this one, which doesn't give the full impact of the shining, silvery sea (a bit too much backlight), looking out towards England.

*Links:  History  http://www.isle-of-man.com/manxnotebook/history/arch/aj16n4.htm    More photos  http://www.transceltic.com/isleofman/manxeast/492-cashtalynardiom


While we were climbing the hill towards Cashtyl yn Ard, I noticed more and more wild flowers on the banks at the side of the road.  At first they were ones which we had in the garden - mainly the ubiquitous lesser celandine, stitchwort and dog violets.  But then I saw some early red campion and ground ivy, which isn't ivy.  It has mauve flowers, a bit like violets in colour, and is a member of the mint family.  After we left the stones and walked down towards the ford, we came across our first bluebells of the year!

And down in the damp shade by the ford there were banks of the delicate wood anemones (Anemone nemorosa).

We continued along the road down to the shore at Cornaa and near the river we came to the celebrity flowers - the reason for our annual pilgrimage - the marsh marigolds (Caltha palustris).  Every year they seem to spread further up the valley.  They were later than usual this year but the cold weather hadn't spoiled the show.

The bluebells will be taking over from the marsh marigolds soon but there were only a few early flowers in the sun near the path.

We walked up the path through the Barony admiring the new leaves on the larches.  They are the purest and most intense green that I can imagine.  I couldn't resist one last flower photo.  The first blossom on the wild cherries (Prunus avium).

Then we returned to Ballaglass and the river.  In the last walk email I mentioned T.E. Brown's disparaging remarks about some of our waterfalls.  Well, there was one that he liked - in Ballaglass.   " . . . turn up the stream inland, till you reach Ballaglass waterfall. This I very much recommend."  I had been surprised when I read this because it had always been my impression that Ballaglass river ran down a series of rapids rather than a waterfall.  Brown said that "A little below the waterfall is a mill and bridge." - so we followed the river up from the bridge and decided that this had to be the recommended waterfall.  Rather surprising as it is very narrow and not at all spectacular. 

Perhaps it was more impressive in the past, or there was more water crashing down over the rocks when T.E. Brown was here.  Or perhaps it was the walk up the river that he recommended not the waterfall.  I took another photo, of the top of the falls, from the footbridge.  The same view as I photographed in autumn.

And on the way back to the cars we took a quick detour to visit the "old men", three particularly ancient trees that I photographed in autumn.  I had thought that they were all horse chestnuts but wasn't quite sure.  Well, I was right they are chestnuts and their new leaves are unfurling.  A curious counterpoint of very old and very new.

Niarbyl

A Tale of the Tail

 

Tuesday, 23rd April, 2013

 

The Sunday email from Dorothy read "How about the walk from Niarbyl, coast and through the plantation on the way back etc.    Tuesday seems the best weather forecast this morning."

 

The forecast was right.  Monday was windy and drizzly.  Tuesday was a bright, sunshiny morning.  I searched for my sunhat but that was over-optimistic because it turned out to be a bit too breezy for a sunhat.

 

It took us forty-five minutes to drive to Niarbyl, on the west coast, just south of Dalby.   It was a lovely drive.  The fields are greening at last and the buds on the trees are swelling.  The new leaves were unfurling on the horse chestnuts at Ballakillingan.  They are always the first trees to come into leaf.  Blackthorn was flowering in the hedges.

 

Niarbyl used to be a busy little port which served the herring fleet which fished in the Baaie Mooar but its importance declined after 1850 and there are just a few cottages left.  Now it is best known for being frequently photographed for Manx calendars and also for being on a geological fault line.  "The Iapetus Suture, also known as the Niarbyl Fault on the Isle of Man, is the separation between the former Laurentia and Avalonia paleocontinents, predecessors of present-day North America and Europe. As such, it is humored locally that at this spot one can have a foot on both continents at the same time."  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Iapetus_Suture_-_Niarbyl_Fault_-_Isle_of_Man_-_kingsley_-_23-JUN-09.jpg  

 

The sign by the road leading down from the Dalby road to the coast said "Bayr yn Arbyl - Road of the Tail of Rocks".  The correct translation of the Manx would be simply Road of the Tail.  We hadn't realised before that Niarbyl is a corruption of "yn Arbyl".  It is interesting how similar sounding words crop up in different languages "an" in English, "yn" in Manx (and even 'n - Afrikaans).

 

The Manx National Trust has taken over the old cafe above the bay and has created a good public parking area where we left the cars.  We got our first view of "the tail" as we walked down the road from the cars to the shore.  It doesn't look very tail-like from this angle.  The gulls were taking advantage of the warm sunshine and a whole crowd were basking on the large flat rock. 

 

 

 

The little row of cottages above the beach wasn't looking as picturesque as usual because they were partly obscured by scaffolding.  It looked as though the roofs were going to be re-thatched.  So we turned our backs on them and walked south along the path towards Traie Vane (White Beach).

 

 

 

The beach gets its name from the pale colour of the pebbles . . .

 

 

 

. . . which really do look white in the sunshine.  Tim took this photo which shows the contrast between the dark rocks and seaweed and the light pebbles.

 

 

 

There is a sweet little waterfall falling almost onto the shingle.  Well, I liked it - but I am not sure how T.E.Brown our Manx poet who died in 1897 would have described it.  In a pamphlet "How to spend seven days in the Isle of Man" he mentioned two of our better known waterfalls . . .  Glen Maye "See the waterfall (which, by-the-bye, is only a ruin of its old self)" and Spooyt Vane "It is not worth much.".   He wasn't a great fan of Snaefell either "You can, if you choose, climb the mountain. I do not recommend that. It is an unsatisfactory view, and the mountain itself is a very ugly stupid affair."  He must have been in a bad mood when he wrote the pamphlet!

 

 

 

Traie Vane is a lovely, secluded little beach and we were reluctant to leave the shore and face the steep climb above the cliffs.  A grassy path led up from the waterfall and followed the top of the cliffs until it met up with the official Raad ny Foillan (coastal footpath) route to the south. 

 

Looking back, we could see why the rocks at Niarbyl were called The Tail.

 

 

 

We passed a couple of sheep that must have died during the big snow but there also seemed to be a fair number of live sheep around.  A few were grouped around a kissing gate.  Tim had Alexander on the lead and didn't want to approach the sheep in case they panicked so I walked ahead.  When I got closer, I could see that one of the sheep had become entangled in some baling twine which was tied to the gate.  It was struggling but couldn't free itself.  I grabbed the sheep and found that the twine was looped around its neck about half a dozen times and was also tangled with some bits of bramble which were stuck in its wool.  I managed to pull the loops of twine over its head one at a time and then Trevor helped me pull off the bramble.  The sheep shot off - but came to an abrupt stop because the twine was also caught around its leg.  Trevor managed to pull the twine free of its legs but the sheep just lay on the grass for a while.  I hoped that it wasn't injured but I needn't have worried.  Sheep are very good at panicking but also know when to submit.  It just took it a while to realise that it was free, and then it strolled off to join its friends who had watched the proceedings with interest. 

 

 

 

Further along the path we came across an interesting rock with a hole.  It was opposite a pillar at the end of a stone wall.  There must originally have been a gate across the path but the hole looks big enough to take a round wooden post.

 

 

 

We continued climbing until we reached the Raad ny Foillan and then the path zig-zagged down the slope above the sea almost down to sea level before we crossed the little stream at Glion Mooar.  Tim carried Alexander across.

 

 

 

After that we had to face another steep and really tiring climb up to Eary Cushlin.  Tim had to pick Alexander up again as we approached the top.  There was no way that he would agree to walk past these big dogs!

 

 

 

It was a relief to turn into the Kerroodhoo Plantation and to be walking downhill again but it was rather wet and slippery underfoot.

 

 

 

After leaving the plantation, there was still one uphill stretch - Bedstead Lane.  It was given this nickname because the remains of some old beds have been used to reinforce the fence above the bank on the east side of the road.  Last time we walked this way it was hard to see them through the summer vegetation but on Tuesday I saw so many that I lost count.  There were at least seventeen that I saw and probably more that I missed.  This is one of the ones that I saw.

 

 

 

At the top of Bedstead Lane we turned left and walked down the road to Dalby until we reached the Bayr yn Arbyl.  As we walked down to the car park, we were amazed to see that all the potholes in the road had been filled while we were hiking.  Tim had difficulty avoiding them when we drove down just before nine o'clock.  The TT races are due to start at the beginning of June and all the stops are being pulled out to get the Island's roads ready in time.  Most of the attention is paid to the course, but the touristy areas also get their share.  Roads are being repaired, hay bales placed at dangerous points around the course, the hedge cutters are out in force . . . soon there will be road signs in German telling us to please drive on the left!

 

Glen Dhoo

A walk of more ups than downs?

 

Monday, 15th April, 2013

 

Dorothy is back from the Lakes and sent an email on Sunday - "How about a walk tomorrow from the Car Park at Ballaugh Plantation.   Up the Glendhoo and stream etc."

 

It was Danny's turn to supervise the walk and he indulged in his usual hysterical excitement while we were getting ready to go.  Then he seemed to have last minute doubts when I went down to open the gate.  I told him to get in the car but he ran up the steps in front of the house and sat down outside the front door.  Perhaps he remembered the whippets and the snow on his last walk.

 

We started off up the path through Ballaugh Plantation.  Pockets of snow were still visible on the side of the hills and there were broken conifer branches and ivy littering the path.  Probably the result of the heavy snow at the end of March, but some could have come down in the gales last night.  Then we turned down a forestry track to join the rough road to Glen Dhoo.

 

There is a rather photogenic ruined farmhouse in Glen Dhoo. 

 

 

 

In front of the ruin there is a large piece of slate which acts as a footbridge over the stream.  Perhaps the last sentence should have been in the past tense because most of the "bridge" was under water.  We thought the water might be higher than usual but after a closer look we saw that one end of the slate had broken.  It is a pity because this route across the stream has probably been used ever since the farmhouse was built.

 

 

This is a view of the bridge from 2011.

We walked upstream until we found a place where the stream was narrow enough to jump over; and then followed the path alongside the stream past the old mill.  The walk got more strenuous when we turned off the path to follow a tributary of the Glen Dhoo stream - after jumping back over the main stream.  The little tributary cascades down a steep slope in a series of small waterfalls.  There is no proper path - so we follow the route taken by the mountain sheep.

 

 

 

It was rather frustrating trying to take photos during the climb.  We were climbing directly towards the sun which was still low in the sky.  Tim took this photo which has a rather interesting effect caused by sun shining on the lens. 

 

 

I stopped above the plantation where the ground levels off to see whether I could find any evidence of a hut circle or shieling which is marked on the map in this area.   I have been trying to find them for years - without success.  The remains of these old summer dwellings are barely visible mounds at the best of times - and the locations vary on different maps.   The damp hillside was covered with a soft layer of dense moss and Danny, who finds hut circles very boring, thought it was an excellent place for a nap.

 

 

 

I am not very good at identifying mosses and grasses but I think this hummock of unusually coloured moss could be Sphagnum capillifolium

 

 

 

After this it was a case of onwards and upwards towards the top of Slieau Dhoo.  Dorothy and I discussed the mystery of why a walk can start and end at the same place and yet create the illusion of twice as much climbing as descending.  It defies logic.   The climb was even harder than usual because we were walking into a gusty headwind and there was no path through the heather.

 

Even Danny was running out of energy.  His legs are too short to walk over the tall heather and he had to jump over the clumps.  Tim took pity on him and carried him part of the way until I found a sheep path which made the going easier.  Eventually we reached the dub at the top of Slieau Dhoo.  It is 1417 feet above sea level and over a thousand feet above the glen where we started climbing.

 

We made our way down from the summit through more heather, stopping briefly to take a photo of the bank of hill fog shrouding Snaefell behind the Sulby Dam . . .

 

 

 

. . . until we reached the Slieau Curn track.  Looking back at Slieau Dhoo it was easy to see why it got its name which means Black (or dark) Mountain in Manx.  At this time of year the heather looks almost black.

 

 

 

The Slieau Curn track was closed but I think the closure applies only to vehicles.  It is one of many upland Greenway Roads that  have been badly damaged by scrambler bikes and is very rutted.  For part of the way we were accompanied by a wheatear, which flitted ahead of us perching briefly on clumps of gorse and heather.  Tim wondered whether it was trying to attract us away from its nesting site.  I checked in my bird book and found that this habit of acting as a pacesetter for walkers is a favourite wheatear trick.  Wheatears are among the first of the summer migrants to arrive in the British Isles in spring. 

 

We walked down the hill until we reached a path to the right, leading back towards Glen Dhoo.  Here we were sheltered from the wind and the sun was warm.    A field with the cutest little new lambs added to the feeling that spring may have arrived.

 

 

 

It should have been an easy stroll back to the cars but the path below the Slieau Curn plantation was blocked by fallen trees.  Tim said that it was like an assault course.  We crawled under some of the trees and climbed over others.

 

 

 

Before we reached the ruined farmhouse we noticed a rough stile over the fence into the valley below and decided to try that path because of the difficulty crossing the stream now that the slate bridge is out of action.  It was pleasant walking through the trees.  When we reached the stream we found a crude bridge - a couple of old logs well above the water, another log at water level, slimy but stronger, and a slatted wooden structure half under the water.  I decided to edge my way across the slippery log while holding onto the higher ones, so I threw my stick and the dog lead across onto the opposite bank.  I managed to get across and Trevor gave me a helping hand to get up the bank.  Tim managed to get across carrying Danny.

 

When I looked for my stick, it had disappeared.  Dorothy said that she thought it had slipped down the bank when I threw it across.  The water was running fast and was deep so I was reconciled to losing the stick  Then Dorothy suddenly saw the tip just above water level and Trevor climbed down the bank and retrieved it.  They are very good friends to have along on a hike.

 

Maughold

It doesn't look like Spring . . . yet!

Monday, 8th April, 2013

 

Another walk, another cold, windy but dry day. 

 

Dorothy is on a photo trip to the Lake District and Trevor phoned on Saturday to suggest that we met at Port Mooar on Monday morning.

 

There was an icy on-shore wind when we started and the tide was high, so waves were crashing against the rocks. 

 

Tim was interested to walk along the path around the rocky shore from Port Mooar towards the lighthouse because he chatted to the owner of a jewelry shop in Ramsey recently (while he was getting a new strap fitted to his watch) and the jeweller mentioned that he did a lot of walking and that there had been some damage to the footpath at Maughold.  We saw no evidence of recent damage.  Either the man in the shop didn't walk as often as he claimed - or he didn't make it clear that he was talking about the past.  Parts of the path were washed away by a landslip some years ago.

 

We didn't take many photos because we needed to keep moving to stay warm.  Also this is a walk that we have done many times before - so the photos tend to become repetitious. 

Tim took this photo of the waves breaking in the little cove at Dhyrnane . . .

. . . and this one of the lighthouse and lighthouse keeper's house at Maughold Head.  The lighthouses are all mechanised now and the lighthouse keeper's houses have been sold and are mainly used for holiday lets.

 

I was interested in the unusual colour of the vegetation.  Normally, in April, the new grass in the fields is bright green - almost emerald green - but on Monday the colours were more reminiscent of a harsh winter than verdant spring.  Also the coastal plants have been burnt by the salt spray after weeks of strong easterly winds.

 

We stopped at the shelter at the highest point of the walk along the Brooghs.  I took this photo of Ramsey.

 

. . .  and this one of North Barrule.  Trevor was surprised that most of the snow on the hills had melted.  He said it is taking a bit longer to thaw in Peel.  Apart from the snow that piled up against the walls, there are just small patches left on the sunny side of the hills although the shady slopes are more dappled.

Tim took this one of the view across the valley towards the south.  It is possible to pick out the Scots pines at the Quaker Burial Ground on the hill.  The fields are almost more beige than green.

It is hard to believe that this is what the fields looked at the same time last year.

 

 

We turned off the end of the Brooghs footpath onto the road.  There were very few wild flowers brave enough to flower in early April this year - just a scattering of lesser celandines and stitchwort on the south facing banks at the side of the road.  I did see one clump of green alkanet (a bright blue flower).  I was trying to keep up with the men who were walking fast and missed the opportunity to take a photo.  But I did find out something interesting when I got home.  The word "green" in the name of green alkanet (Pentaglottis sempervirens) doesn't refer to the colour but to the fact that the plant is an evergreen.  And it isn't a true "wild flower" as it was originally introduced from Europe so it could be classified as a "garden escape".  I looked back at my photos of a walk in a similar area on April 11 last year and saw that I had taken a number of wild flower photos in 2012 - even some early bluebells.  What a difference a year makes. 

 

We couldn't turn down to the shore at Port e Vullan because the tide was too high and the beach was under water so we turned up Jack's Lane towards the Dreemskerry Road.  There were Road Closed signs along the lane.  The roadworks website had said the lane would be "closed to vehicular traffic from 13 March 2013 until 31 May 2013 to allow for a water main replacement."  We weren't "vehicular traffic" so we thought we might be able to get through but we were wrong.  The lane was completely blocked by a barrier and the men working on the pipe laying didn't look interested in stopping work to let us get past.  We had to choose between turning back, walking through a nearby field and hoping to rejoin the lane above the roadworks, or walking along the tram tracks (hoping the trams weren't running yet).  We opted for trespassing on the tram track.  After a while Alexander got tired of walking over the sleepers and the stone and needed to be picked up.  When we came to a gate, we decided to try a different type of trespassing and walked around the edge of a field aiming for a gate onto the Dreemskerry Road at the top corner of the field.  There were sheep in the field so Tim continued carrying Alexander until he got too tired and I took over.  We thought that an angry farmer wouldn't be quite so angry if he saw that we had gone to the trouble of carrying the dog through his field.  Fortunately nobody saw us - except the sheep.  They came over to have a closer look at three strange hikers and one fat little dog.

 

The rest of the walk was relaxing and uneventful.

 

Narradale

April Fools?

 

Monday, 1st April, 2013

 

On Sunday morning we got an email from Dorothy.  "We think if we meet at the Sulby Claddagh and go up Narradale first with the plantation last as it might be better under foot that way.  Trevor will have two nice little dogs.   Whippet's I think."  Trevor has occasionally brought Teddy, a friend's greyhound, on the hikes but we hadn't met the whippets before.  They also belong to one of his friends.

 

I intended leaving all our dogs at home because there were plans for a joint celebration for the March birthdays at Dorothy's house after the walk.  I am the only two-legged hiker in the group who wasn't born in March - the odd man out.  Also the Schippies don't take kindly to strange dogs and are convinced that the best method of defence is attack.  But when we were getting ready, Danny put in such a passionate pitch to go with us that I weakened. 

 

We parked at the Claddagh by the Sulby River and it was obvious from the start that Danny didn't share Dorothy's opinion that the whippets were nice little dogs.  They were very friendly but unfortunately they were the same colour and shape as one of the Schipps mortal enemies (the larger riding school dog).  When the whippets approached to greet Danny, who was still in the car, he appeared to think that he was seeing double and that the riding school dog (possibly shrunk in the wash) was coming to attack him - and he snarled viciously.  The whippets, which have incredibly sensitive faces, retreated, hid behind Trevor and looked as though they were about to burst into tears.  When Danny emerged from the car they had come to the conclusion that he definitely wasn't a nice little dog and barked at him.  We set off with all the dogs attached to leads and Danny a safe distance from the whippets. 

 

First, we walked along the back road towards the Ginger Hall, a pub on the TT course.  Then we turned up the Narradale Road, a narrow road leading up into the hills.  It used to be a route followed by the miners from the Sulby area who worked in the mines above Laxey.  The first part of the Narradale Road is tarred but higher up it becomes a stony track.  At the edge of the moors there is a gate and then a very rough, rutted and eroded path continues until it reaches the Millennium Way.  But our route turned off to the right above the gate to the moors, following a footpath at the edge of the moors in a westerly direction and then turning north along a hedged track through the fields until we reached the Ohio Plantation and the way down to the cars at the Claddagh.

 

The beginning of the walk along the road was uneventful, apart from the whippets barking at Danny and Danny giving them the evil eye.  Daffodils were flowering along the side of the road and most of the snow on the lower slopes had thawed.  We turned up the Narradale road and gradually walked up the hill from spring back into winter.  A snow plough had cleared the road but as we climbed higher the snow banks at the side of the road also got higher.  A couple of young men drove past in a Mini but soon returned down the road and said that it was blocked further up by a ten foot wall of snow.  We thought they were exaggerating - after all it was April Fools Day.  But they weren't.  The snow plough had given up the battle above the last of the houses and this is the scene that confronted us.

 

 

The snow wasn't deep in the surrounding fields, in fact most of it had thawed.  But the traditional Manx lanes, between banks topped by gorse hedges, make wonderful snow traps and the rest of the road was buried under drifts.  We battled on.  The surface of the snow had thawed slightly during the days and then frozen again at night so there was a bit of an icy crust.  It was reasonably firm if we trod in the prints left by earlier walkers but occasionally we would choose the wrong place to step and sink in up to our knees.

 

 

 

 And it wasn't flat snow.  It had been blown into deep drifts and we had to clamber up and down steep snowy banks.  One bank was too smooth and icy for Danny to climb, his feet slipped and he ended up sliding back to the bottom on his tummy, spread-eagled.

 

 

 

I let Danny off the lead when we reached the snow but he was still a bit annoyed by the presence of the "nice little dogs" on his hike and started teasing them.  He realised that he was safe because they were on the lead and made little threatening darts in their direction.  Then he strutted back to me - "well chuffed" at having frightened them!  So he had to go back on the lead for the rest of the walk. 

 

 

 

Shortly before we reached the edge of the moors, we came across a snow bank that was so high that Danny refused to climb up it.  I dropped his lead and he followed the others into the field and I joined them.  Eventually we reached the top of the slope.  This is the gate from the field leading to the top of the track and the gate to the moors.  Snaefell is in the centre background and doesn't look as snowy as our walk!

 

 

The footpath along the wall at the top of the fields wasn't too bad - but when we reached the gate and stile above the Ohio track there were more deep drifts.  There are signs on some of the gates asking walkers to please close them but it was rather pointless and obviously impossible today.  The gates up here were very nearly completely buried. 

 

 

 

The only aspect of the walk which was easier than usual was walking past the large, permanent puddles on the flat part of the track.  Usually we have to climb up the bank at the side of the track to get past them but today they were frozen solid and the ice was covered with snow.

 

We thought we had passed the worst of the conditions but as we walked down the slope towards the plantation, we encountered more drifts; similar to those at the top of the Narradale Road.  So we were happy to reach the plantation and find that the road through the trees had been cleared for the farmers who needed to reach sheep in the fields.

 

 

After the walk we drove to Ballaugh for the celebration and were surprised to see that Dorothy's garden was still covered by a few inches of snow.  The snow in our garden disappeared a couple of days ago.  The dogs were tired after their walk and were happy to wait in the cars.