Cornaa

Last walk of autumn

Wednesday 28th November, 2013

There are only a few leaves left on the trees now but it is too warm to be real winter weather.  The maximums are still hovering around the double figure mark.

This walk was scheduled for Wednesday because we had a tree surgeon working on our beeches down by the road on Monday and Tuesday.  The walk had to be a short one because Tim had an appointment early in the afternoon so Dorothy suggested “Shall we meet at Ballaglass for a walk to Cornaa?”  The only drawback to this walk is that we have done it so often that the photos must be getting rather repetitious.

Danny was sleeping when we left and I was a bit worried that he might be anxious when he woke and found that he was alone in the house.

 We got to Ballaglass early and I took a few photos of the bridge over the stream between the parking area and Ballaglass Glen.  The bridge appeared to be stronger than necessary but I realised that it is the only road access to the Glen and they must need to take heavy vehicles across to work on fallen trees.

If this hike had a theme it would be hard to choose between fallen leaves, water and rocks.  We started off through the trees towards the main stream which runs down the middle of the glen.  On the way we passed a pile of old logs with an interesting crop of bracket fungus which was being inspected by a hungry slug.

Nearby there was a huge fallen tree.  Tim and I tried to identify it.  Judging by the bark we could eliminate everything except elm and oak.  Most of the saplings in the area were elm, so I would guess that it was the parent tree and is also an elm.

By the time we had finished our investigation, the others had disappeared.  We weren’t sure which path they had taken but we managed to find them down by the river.  I took this photo of the little white water rapids.

Further upstream we crossed a footbridge.  There was a small weir near the bridge and the water above the weir was still enough to reflect slightly distorted images of the bare branches overhead.

We walked along the footpath above the glen until we reached the steep road which climbs over a high ridge, between the Cornaa River valley and the next valley (with an unnamed tributary) to the south of the Ards.  We didn’t stop at Cashtyl yn Ard because we photographed the burial site about two months ago.  We just continued down the road to the footbridge by the ford and then turned down the road to the shore.  The tide was out but not quite as far out as it was last time we stopped here.  I took a photo of the valley with the mist on the hills and mallard swimming in the tranquil river.

Then I took this photo of Tim.

He had walked down to the edge of the sea to see whether he could spy any caves.  Nothing was visible from the shore apart from sea, rocks and a vast expanse of shingle.  But he took a photo of the south side of the little bay from a different perspective.

I wasted a bit of time photographing pebbles.  I must go to the Visitor Centre at the Ayres to see whether they still have a display of pebbles.  They used to have an interesting exhibit showing some of the different pebbles and giving the names of the rock that they came from and also the areas where the rocks are found.  For example there are some pebbles on the north west coast which are formed from a type of riebeckite which is found on Ailsa Craig.  Many of our pebbles come from the north and were pushed south by the encroaching ice during the last ice age.

This is not the best time of year for photographing flowers but there seems to be an exception to every rule.  For some unknown reason, ivy flowers in late autumn and the berries ripen in spring.  I was confused by ivy when we came to the island.  I recognised the ivy-shaped leaves of the climbing stems with their little suckers for clinging to trees and walls but I didn’t realise that the mature, woody, flowering stems which have a different shaped leaf were part of the same plant.

We returned along the familiar path through the Barony where there were still a few autumn leaves on the young trees.

I stopped to take a photo of this rusty pole – which I wish I had photographed twenty years ago.  There used to be a sign on the post which read “Isle of Man Highways”.  I don’t know whether it fell off – or whether it was “liberated” as a souvenir – because it disappeared after a year or two.  It would have been fun to send the photo to friends as an illustration of the high standard of “highways” on the Island.

The last bit of our short walk was through the lower section of Ballaglass Glen.  Tim took this photo of the river.

And then I took this photo of the photographers taking a few last pictures just before we got back to the cars.

I needn’t have worried about Danny.  He was still fast asleep when we got home.  I don’t think he even knew that we had been out.  But he soon woke up and demanded his walk.

Baldwin

Around Carraghan in the mist

Monday 18th November 2013

We met at St Luke’s church, on the ridge between the east and west Baldwin valleys.  It is a fairly long drive from our glen – up the Mountain Road, along the Brandywell Road and then down the steep hill, past Injebreck House and the dam, and finally up the hill to the church.  There was dense hill fog or low cloud on the Mountain Road near Snaefell but it lifted slightly before we reached the Brandywell junction although the cloud cover still looked almost low enough to reach up and touch.

We decided to reverse the direction in which Trevor had planned to walk so that we wouldn’t have to climb the hill to the church at the end of the hike.  So we started off down the hill towards the dam – retracing the route which we had driven along earlier.  There was a brief patch of sunlight on the lower slopes of Colden.

During the drive down I had noticed that there was a lot of water running down the overflow ramp from the dam.  This wasn’t surprising because we had heavy rain overnight.  I took a quick detour to photograph the River Glass below the dam, flowing under the old stone bridge we had just crossed.

The next quick detour was up some steps to the top of the dam wall.  It was a peaceful scene with just a solitary fisherman on the bank near the yachts – and a single cormorant swimming in the distance.

Further along the road there was a lovely view across the northern part of the dam towards Carraghan.

And a little further on there was a gap in the wall leading to the remains of an old track down towards the dam.  Another short burst of sunlight illuminated the scene.

The next stop was at a pretty little waterfall near the road.  We have stopped off here in the past on hot summer days to let the dogs paddle and cool off in the water.

We continued up the road past Injebreck House and then turned up an old track.  It isn’t a public right or way and it may not be strictly legal to walk up this route any more.  It is included in an old book “Manx Hill Walks” – with the note “This track is a private way, which the landowner kindly permits walkers to use on an occasional basis.”   There may well have been a change of landowner since the book was written but we hoped for the best and headed up the track.

We usually associate mushrooms and toadstools with wooded areas but we walked past numerous patches of fungi on the hillside – probably varieties of waxcap as they are found mainly in grassland and upland pastures.  These were the most spectacular.  The little round caps were bright red as they emerged through the grass and then became paler as they opened up and matured.

Looking back at the view down to the dam in the valley under increasingly ominous clouds.

I was puzzled by the track that we were following.  It seemed to be too wide to be an old packhorse route or a conventional old farm track and care had been taken to construct stone drains under the surface in a few places.  The private gardens of Injebreck House used to be one of the numerous pleasure gardens which opened during the late nineteenth century for the entertainment of Victorian tourists.  We discussed the possibility that our track might have been the original road from the Brandywell Road down into the West Baldwin Valley. The present road (which may have replaced it) turns down near Brandywell Cottage on the other side of Injebreck Hill. 

I left the road to take a photo of the remains of a wall over a drain, built into a small ravine, to take water under the road.  We were approaching the edge of the hill fog/low cloud and were quite close to the Brandywell Road.

The photography came to a standstill for a while as we walked up the Brandywell Road in the patchy fog.  Every now and then there would be a brief patch of distant views to the north but they only lasted for seconds.  I managed to capture a hazy image of Sulby Dam before it disappeared again in the mist.

We passed a signpost indicating a greenway road but decided that it probably wasn’t the correct route because there was no Millennium Way sign.  Then we walked on and on and on along the Brandywell Road.  It was hard to get our bearings in the patchy fog and I was getting anxious, thinking that we had missed the turning and might arrive at the junction with the Mountain Road any minute.  But Trevor was confident about the route and he was right.  We turned right when we finally reached the Millennium Way marker and after a while we reached another sign post.  It marked the junction of the Millennium Way and the greenway road which we had passed earlier.  We could have cut the corner by walking along the greenway road but it had a stony surface and it was probably more comfortable walking along the tarred road.

The surface of the track now became uncomfortably rocky – but at least it was downhill all the way back to St Luke’s.  Carraghan was looming above us on the right but there was no sign of  the alleged “presiding genius” of the mountain,  the legendary little red-cloaked Ben Veg Carraghan wandering the hills with her goose.

Once we were below the clouds we could see down into the green East Baldwin valley on the left.

The track deteriorated further down the hill . . . into a mess of mud, deep ruts, stones and running water.  But had improved again by the time Tim took this photo.

We stopped to take photos at Keeill Abban, the site of an early Tynwald (parliament meeting). 

There was an excursion to this site by 45 members of the Isle of Man Natural History and Antiquarian Society on July 24^th 1900.  The members discussed the actual site of the Tynwald as it was alleged by Mr Kelly that the Ordnance Survey Map had marked it in the wrong place.  He said that the real site was well known to all the local inhabitants because the Parish Club used to march around it once a year although this custom had since been abandoned.  It was suggested that the Tynwald was held “on a natural eminence in a commanding situation” which had unfortunately been quarried in order to build St Luke’s Church.  The Society also noted that “It had been a wish of the late Deemster Gill that a stone should be set up to mark the site of this interesting national monument, and, at the meeting held later on, it was resolved that this Society should use its best efforts to have this carried out.”

This is what the site looks like now.

Attached to a large stone set into the ring of stones, which marks the site, is a metal plaque with the inscription

Site of Tynwald

Holden at Killabane

1428.

The plaque must have been erected following “the best efforts” of the IoMNH&AS after their excursion – probably early in the twentieth century and I imagine the stone circle was constructed at the same time.  I hope they built it in the right place.

St Luke’s church is just one field further down the Millennium Way.  It is the last of a series of churches said to be built on the site of an ancient keeill.  Rather confusingly that keeill has the same name as the Tynwald site – Keeill Abban. 

We took some photos of the church from the field just below the stone circle.

The Bishop at the time must have been quite crafty because the building was divided into two sections with a moveable dividing door.  The west wing (on the right in this photo) was a school room and only the eastern chancel end was consecrated.  This meant that most of the costs of building the church could be met from funds allocated for school building.

When we returned to the cars I was puzzled by this sign on the gate into the churchyard.  Someone had painted “Luke’s Gate” on the other gate below the churchyard, which seemed logical given the name of the church – but who is Robbie?

We were lucky with the weather.  The rain, which had been threatening all morning, didn't start until we were  in the cars ready to drive home.

PS  When we returned home I was greeted by our last geriatric dog, Danny  . . . demanding his daily walk!  He didn’t consider the fact that I had been walking all morning (or the fact that it had started raining) was an adequate excuse for postponing or cancelling his walk.  So I had to change into dry boots and go straight out again.

Corrany Valley

Not the best of days

Tuesday 12^th November, 2013

Apart from a fresh, north-westerly wind, the weather was perfect.  But that was the only good thing about the day.

Tim walked with Trevor but I stayed at home for what turned out to be a last, very sad morning with Alexander.  Although his health had been deteriorating fast, I had hoped for a few more days with him.  But I realised on Tuesday morning that the end was near and the kindest thing was to let him go.  So Tim phoned the vets’ surgery when he got home and we took Alexander in early in the afternoon.  He was such a sweet, friendly, cheerful little dog and I still can’t talk (or even write) about him without getting all choked up.

Alexander in his prime.

To return to the happier topic of the walk - Dorothy was still off the Island and the men met at the parking area near Ballure Reservoir.  They decided to take one car as far as the little road behind the Hibernian to avoid the muddy path up to the Gooseneck - and then they walked up the track towards Park Llewellyn.

The bracken is a lovely coppery colour at this time of year.

Instead of continuing along the track towards the sheep fold and the mines down in the valley, they followed the remains of a higher path which appears to be the route of an old pack horse track that crossed the dip between Clagh Ouyr and the first of the North Barrule peaks.

Further up the hill the old track has been eroded by water running off the side of the hill.  Tim was a bit puzzled by the narrow tracks running alongside the eroded track.  Sheep might create one path – but they are unlikely to create three or more.  Perhaps the narrow paths were made in the past by off-road motor bikes and the authorities have since succeeded in keeping them off the mountain which has allowed the vegetation to recover.

When Tim and Trevor reached the path along the top of the ridge, they were exposed to the full force of the icy wind.  We live in a sheltered glen and the force of the wind up on North Barrule is always a shock.

After climbing the first peak and seeing the next two looming ominously ahead, they decided that the cold wind was too much to endure and turned down  into the relative shelter of the Corrany Valley.

The contrast between the high ground and the coastal farms is amazing at this time of year.  The green fields don’t look at all autumnal – but the leafless branches on the deciduous trees prove that this isn’t a spring or summer photo.

Later in the afternoon, I walked up through Skyhill plantation with Danny.  I needed to get out of the house which contained too many sad memories.  We stopped near the Ballagarrow fields  and then set off up the hill though the conifers.  But Danny lagged behind an seemed reluctant to go any further.  I wasn’t sure whether he was tired so I turned back.  When we got back to the track, I climbed over a strand of sagging barbed wire to take some photos because there were no horses in the top field.  Standing on top of an old stone wall, I took this photo of Ramsey, sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine.

Then I zoomed in on the trees surrounding Milntown, on the left-hand side of the photo above.  The beeches are still looking pretty.

Before we returned to the house I took a photo of our last old "best friend", Danny. 

Glen Wyllin

High tides and more weather!

Monday 4^th November 2013 

The Sunday email from Dorothy read:

 “ Tomorrow looks like a good day weather-wise for the walk.        Trevor suggests a walk from Glen Wyllin.

         

I'm hoping I haven't picked up a disruptive cold.”

The updated forecast on Monday morning was more ominous  . . . suggesting “Sunny intervals. Localized showers, possibly giving some heavy rain or hail.”   The early morning view through our living room window didn’t look threatening though - just one pretty pink cloud floating over North Barrule.

Luckily the forecast turned out to be wrong on all counts – at least for the little patch of west coast where we were walking.  I suppose there were “sunny intervals”, although they only lasted for a few seconds, but  there was no heavy rain, and the “hail” was no more than a light sleety shower.

Unfortunately Dorothy’s cold was worse, so she didn’t join us.  We met Trevor near the shore just over two hours before high tide.   I was surprised that the waves were already breaking almost at the bottom of the cliffs north of the glen. 

There was one brave person and a dog on the wider beach to the south.  It would have been possible for us to reach Glen Mooar along the shore but there was a strong, cold on-shore wind and we decided to walk inland towards Cooildarry.

Trevor said that he had seen photos of a water wheel in the little village across the main road from the camping ground.  We couldn’t see any sign of it near the river but then we glimpsed the top above an overgrown hedge next to the road.

We were surprised at the location of the wheel because it seemed to be well above the level of the river and there were no signs of an old mill race.  I checked on the internet and found out that planning permission had been requested in 2006 to convert the old mill into two dwellings.  The Manx Heritage Foundation website has some photos of the exterior and interior of the mill dating from that time.  But there was no explanation of the route of the missing mill race.

We continued up the track towards Cooildarry and then climbed up the hill towards the junction with the road (from Barregarrow down towards the coast).  There is a picnic area near the top of the track and, while we paused briefly to admire the view, a little patch of sun peeped through the clouds above Sartfell.  By the time I took a second photo it had already disappeared.

The air was wonderfully clear.  It often is in autumn.  Using the zoom I felt that I could almost touch the Mull of Galloway although it was over twenty miles north of us.   The west of the Island was under cloud but at least the sun was shining on Scotland.

We continued past the expensive new mansion on the hill.  Nobody appears to be living there yet but the gardens have been immaculately landscaped.  The only signs of life were fumes from a central heating vent and a garden service van outside one of the locked gates.

The last house I would want to own is a vast and ostentatious place with three garages, plus a separate wing with an indoor pool - but I wouldn’t mind having their view.  To the north they can see the Scottish coast . . .

. . . and to the east the row of Michael hills – Sartfell, Freoaghane and Slieau Curn.

We walked down the hill and turned off the road when we reached the Spooyt Vane chapel/Mission Hall.

I found out a bit about this small building which is now privately owned.   It is said to have been built about 150 years ago with funds provided by Miss Gore Currie, a niece of Bishop Powys.  It was used as a Mission Room and Sunday School.  The building was enlarged in 1901 and the old roof was replaced after it fell in in 1999.   There is a pre-1999 photo on this site  http://www.isle-of-man.com/manxnotebook/parishes/ml/michael.htm

The next stop was at the waterfall that gives this area its name – Spooyt Vane.

There was a very brief shower of minute hail stones as we climbed back up the steps from the waterfall.  I wondered whether it was going to continue a tradition, started last year, when we had to shelter from a hail shower during our first walk in November – but it was all over in a few minutes.   We walked down through Glen Mooar, looking for something to photograph.  We passed the site of Keeill Pheric but I took a photograph of the keeill when we last passed this way in August.  I am always amazed at the amount that archeologists can read into a weathered bank and random stones.  This is part of the boundary wall of the graveyard surrounding the keeill – half buried by wet leaves.  I think it might be the bit where “Traces of priest’s cell remain against south-west boundary” . . . but it all looks the same to me.

I walked on looking for interesting leaves.   This year’s warm, and very wet, autumn weather hasn’t encouraged bright colours.    This was the best of a bad lot!  The smaller yellow one is an elm leaf.  The larger leaf must be some type of maple.  It is too “pointy” to be a sycamore.

A little further on we found some interesting fungi.

We passed the huge pillars that used to support the railway viaduct over the glen.  We were impressed by the size of some of the stones used in the construction. 

The pillar on the other side of the river was completely covered with ivy.  A wonderful safe shelter for birds’ nests and also a source of valuable food for them.  Ivy is unusual because it flowers in autumn and the berries ripen in the spring.

Then we walked on down to the shore, passing a reasonably colourful young horse chestnut tree by the road.

We wanted to see whether it would be possible to walk along the beach back to Glen Wyllin but we retraced our steps back to the old railway line after we saw the state of the tide.

I walked up the rough steps from the bridge across the river ahead of the men and was so busy watching where I was putting my feet that I didn’t notice a low branch.  I knocked my head against the branch, lost my balance, and nearly slid down a steep bank into the river.  Luckily Tim was just behind me and grabbed my hand.  At the top of the steps I regained my composure sufficiently to take this zoom photo of the Ballacarnane stones on top of the small hill on the far side of the glen.

Then we found these rather nice mushrooms under the hedge at the side of the path.

After crossing the road we came across some rather contradictory signposts one either side of the railway path.   One showed a footpath sign and said No Horses and No motorcycles and the other showed a greenway road sign allowing horses and with a speed limit of 20 mph for motorbikes.  I was totally confused but Tim suggested that there might be two paths and he was right.  The entrance to the greenway road was obscured by a parked car.  Behind the car was a sign “Tramman Tree Road”.  Trevor said that he thought it led to the coast road and that we could get onto the railway path at the other end.  So we walked along it.  I didn’t notice any Tramman trees (Elder trees) and it was just a narrow path, not really a road.   But it was a better choice than the railway path as it was higher and well drained.  It is always interesting to find a “new” bit of footpath.

The last stretch along the railway path was boggy in places but it was much drier than the beach.  This last photo shows the waves breaking against the sea defences when we got back to the cars.