Kirk Michael

Eroding cliffs and old crosses

Tuesday 10 December, 2013

Dorothy's email on Sunday said "  Are you getting back to fit for a walk?      We thought a start from Glen Wyllin and along the beach to Orrisdale and back along the railway.   The low tide is at 11 o'clock so we should manage the walk that way round.   Or the other way is an option as well!!!     The weather is OK so far for Tuesday. “   

I replied " My back is still a bit painful and definitely not up to an arduous North Barrule-type walk - but I may be able to manage the Glen Wyllin walk.  I have been doing plantation walks for a couple of days and have survived.  Tim would like to walk - so he will be there and I hope to be with him (weather, back and dog permitting!)  I will try not to do anything stupid in the meantime.”

On Tuesday morning I felt fairly confident about the walk, after surviving a Monday grocery shopping trip to Ramsey, so we all met up at Glen Wyllin. 

I hadn't seen the west coast since it was lashed by the severe onshore gales last Thursday.    Trevor told us that there had been damage to Peel Promenade.  The cliffs north of Glen Wyllin hadn't escaped unscathed either.  The rough seas keep undermining the fragile cliffs carved out of glacial deposits around the north of the Island.  There used to be a mill above the cliffs on the north side of the river but it was pulled down in 1978 as it was in danger of being undermined and falling  onto the beach below.  There are a couple of piles of huge boulders protecting the end of Shore Road, where the mill used to stand, and the road through the camping site but the sea has been gradually eating away at the unprotected section of cliff between (below the trout hatchery) - at an average of I metre a year over the past ten years.   Pieces of old masonry are being undermined and are now littering the shore.

The various strata of glacial deposits which are visible in the cliff face are interesting.  This huge block must have come down on Thursday.  The layered composition is clear.

Nearby there were a few more blocks.  I think they must have fallen from the mysterious thick vein of darker and apparently denser material half way up the cliff. 

We passed the end of Balleira Road where the little river, which gives the road its name, trickles across the shore.  The only access to the beach along this stretch of coast is where the streams or rivers make their way through narrow valleys, probably cut by the melting ice about ten thousand years ago.

I read in a booklet* published in 1986 that there used to be a small glen about a quarter of a mile north of Balleira which was marked on an early ordnance survery map.  It  was called the Parson’s Glen.  At the time the booklet was written most of the glen had been lost to the sea and only a remnant remained – a tiny gully high up in the cliff.  The author predicted that the last traces would soon disappear.  I think he was right.  I tried to count my steps from Balleira to locate the locality of the disappearing glen but soon lost count.  A careful check of the cliff top gave no clue.   The edge of the cliffs appeared to be uniformly slightly scalloped.

* Kirk Michael  Isle of Man  A guide to Village and Parish by John Grimson

We planned to leave the shore at Glen Trunk and I wondered whether the end of the path would have been destroyed by the storm.  It wasn’t too bad.  The recently repaired path now ends rather abruptly but it was easy enough to cross the stream and climb up the zig-zag path.

When we reached the Orrisdale Road near Kiondraghad we turned south and walked along the road until we reached the footpath through the fields which links up with the old railway line near a field which appears to be an informal graveyard for old farm vehicles.  After Tim took this photo I checked up to see whether the old "Lion" trip-action rake that I photographed on an earlier visit in March 2012 was still there.  It was.

When we reached the bridge over the Balleira Road, we climbed down the steps from the railway line after stopping to take a photo of the reason for our detour through the village – the church of St Michael and All Angels. 

There used to be a sign at the top of the Balleira Road which gave the English translation – Road of Muddy River.  The Manx name is bilingual being comprised of the Scandinavian Leira (muddy river or water) with the Gaelic bal- (place or farm) tacked on the beginning.  Now the little stream, which is no longer muddy, flows through a deep ditch at the side of the road, making its way under an arch built into the supports of the railway bridge.

There are some villages in the Island which are not popular with drivers as they have grown up on either side of main routes and it is necessary to keep ducking in behind parked cars to avoid oncoming vehicles.  Kirk Michael, on the main west coast road which forms part of the TT course, is one of them.  There is no provision for off road parking for shoppers and most of the old cottages have no space for a car in their tiny gardens so one side of the road is used as a car park.

I took this photo of the pretty lych-gate at the entrance to the churchyard.  It was originally built to house a collection of Celtic crosses.  The crosses have since been moved into the church where they are safer from the elements and possible vandals.

We spent a short time wandering through the old graves until we found the grave of Bishop Wilson.  My booklet says that it lies in the shadow of a small remnant of the old church which served the parish from the twelfth century up to the building of the present one in 1835.

I wandered off to take some photos of the motley bunch of resident lawnmowers.   I rather liked this one which looked a bit like a cartoon sheep. 

But my favourite was this young sheep which must have been a meg lamb (hand-reared orphan) because it walked boldly up to me and let me scratch its head.

Inside the church is an interesting collection of crosses.  They are arranged in a dark corner with just enough back light to make photography difficult.  The cross which I particularly wanted to see was Gaut’s cross.  It is unusual because the runic inscription identifies the tenth century sculptor.  The translated inscription reads “Melbrigdi son of Athakan the smith erected this cross . . .  but Gaut made it and all in Man.”

By the way, the peculiar little stone on the floor is “the broken shaft of a cross slab, which in 1669 was turned upside down, reshaped and carved with a skull and cross bones.”

I particularly liked the handsome Dragon Cross.

Another favourite was the intricately carved back of the fragment of the Crucifixion cross.  There are photos of the other side, where the carvings explain the name, on this link  http://www.iomguide.com/crosses/michael/no129.php  The website also has photos of, and information about, most of the old crosses on the Island.

There is never enough time to explore properly and we eventually had to leave the church and make our way south through the village to Station Road, where we turned down towards the sea and walked as far as the old station, built of Peel sandstone, which is now the Kirk Michael Fire Station.  Then it was just a short walk along the railway line back to the cars.