A gentle stroll along the beach Wednesday 22nd January, 2014 Last week we had a steep climb from the Snaefell Mine up the side of Clagh Ouyr and I mentioned that it was 500 feet in less than half a mile . . . but the hiking book that I got the stats from was wrong. I had a close look at a contour map and found that we had actually climbed at least 200 metres and (if my maths is right) that translates to approx. 650 feet. So it was a relief to know that this week's walk promised to be dead flat . . . just a gentle stroll along the beach. It was a dual purpose walk. We wanted to see the recent damage to the cliffs along the north west coast and we wanted to photograph the remains of Passages, a fishing trawler that went aground in a gale near Jurby Head on the 3rd of December, 1931. Dorothy wrote "The low tide is OK this week (08.31), for the walk on the beach and if we start walking from the Sartfield end we should see the wreck. Might be covered up by the tide coming in if we start at Glen Wyllin. Trevor suggests we meet at Glen Wyllin and go up to Sartfield in his car." We arrived at Glen Wyllin at eight thirty and I had time to take one of my favourite photographs - early morning light on the sea. No pink clouds because we were facing west but a lovely warm pastel glow above the horizon.
The first intimation that our best laid scheme might be about to gang agley coincided with our arrival at Sartfield. The word "Road" on the large red "Road closed ahead" sign above the sewage works had been covered with black tape. Then we saw that the footpath gate had been wired shut. Trevor never seems to be worried about details like warning signs - and there was nobody around to shout at us - so we climbed over the gate and headed down towards the beach. Further on we came to a temporary barrier across the road. Apparently intended to stop us proceeding any further and we climbed over that too. The wooden steps down to the beach had been damaged by the storms but were still standing - more or less. The others climbed down and I hesitated at the top - looking for a safer route. The steps appeared to be the least bad option so I followed the others down to the beach. Dorothy was in a hurry to get to the wreck before it started disappearing under the waves . . .
. . . but I lagged a bit - examining rocks and seaweed. The weed anchored to the exposed rocks had taken a bit of a battering.
The cliffs hadn't escaped unscathed. The combination of super high tides and gales had undermined the bottom of the cliffs and caused land slides all the way along the beach. The heavy rain and run off from the waterlogged fields above hadn't helped either.
The approach to the wreck wasn't easy. We had to tread carefully between the exposed rocks, avoiding pools of water and slippery patches of weed.
I took a series of photos of the wreck from all angles but I lost interest before the others. Also the tide was coming in and I didn't want to risk being trapped out by the wreck.
So I returned to my photographic beach combing. The wet pebbles and rocks were quite beautiful.
I rather liked this strand of seaweed. The pattern reminded me of the tracks left by a mountain bike on a muddy path.
And I was confused by a number of egg-shaped "rocks" containing small pebbles until I had a closer look and realised that they were chunks of clay from the collapsed cliffs, that had been shaped by rolling around in the waves, and the pebbles were just embedded in the surface.
There were a few birds around too. Rather too far away for sharp photos because there was a cold wind and it was hard to hold the camera steady enough using the zoom.
Six mature herring gulls with one younger bird on the wet sand at the edge of the sea.
Oystercatchers scurrying along.
And above us, all along the top of the unstable cliffs, fulmar couples were booking nest sites. I hope they don't live to regret their choice.
These blocks of weathered concrete must be the remains of some long forgotten attempt to stablise the shore line. Now they could be mistaken for a cubist art installation. Look upon my works ye mighty and despair!
We could see vehicles working on the beach ahead and the first operation was taking place at Killane, where boulders were being piled up to protect the bungalow near the old mill.
The water draining out of the Killane trench was running faster than usual but we managed to cross and then proceeded towards the Cronk. There were a lot of dog walkers along this part of the beach, including a woman with a magnificent pure black greyhound. It is always rather odd when a colour is included in the name of a breed or species and they don't all conform to the colour - like black greyhounds, brown (female) blackbirds and lilacs which can be anything from white to wine red. When we reached the Cronk it became obvious why the dog walkers were all walking north from the car park. The mouth of the Ballaugh River used to curve around the front of the car park and the water flowed north, sinking gradually into the sand. But a couple of tractors in the car park had obviously been busy dredging the mouth and cutting a new route across the beach.
There was no way of crossing the torrent on our walk south without getting seriously wet. The only solution was to walk along the road as far as Glen Trunk and rejoin the beach there. So it was a few miles of road walking with nothing much of interest except for a group of disconsolate sheep which had been penned and were waiting for the vet or farmer to arrive. We turned off towards Orrisdale and the walk became slightly more interesting. Huge puddles in the road, reflecting the branches overhead, and even a couple of very early miniature daffodils already flowering. There is a sign at the approach to the shore at Glen Trunk which reads:
DANGER CLIFFS. RISK OF
DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY.
UNSTABLE SANDBANKS
DANGER OF COLLAPSE
There was also some red tape across the path down to the beach. We made our way round the tape and slid down a steep grassy slope to the little river which was giving a good imitation of a raging torrent. It was interesting to compare the "access" to the beach now with the photo that I took when we were last here in early December.
With a helping hand from Trevor (who crosses rivers and climbs rocks and precipitous slopes like a mountain goat) we crossed the stream using some big boulders as stepping stones and continued towards Glen Wyllin. There was another river to cross at Balleira and we were starting to have doubts about the final river at Glen Wyllin. The stroll along the beach was turning out to resemble an army training assault course. Trevor said that we should be able to use the new bridge at Glen Wyllin. This "forbidden footbridge" was built a couple of years ago but is not open for use because there is no safe access to the beach from the north side of the bridge. The river which runs through Glen Wyllin splits further up the glen with one side running through the trout hatchery. So we had two more streams to survive before reaching the bridge.
Tim took this photo of me using some rubble as stepping stones and crossing very, very carefully with Trevor hovering ready to lend a hand.
And also this shot of Trevor climbing up to find a route to the bridge.
I thought it might be easier to climb around the rocks lower down. It wasn't . . . but I got a nice photo of the river and the bridge.
We finished our nice gentle stroll just in time. The tide was coming in fast and the waves were just about reaching the piles of boulders that protect the mouth of the glen.
More mines Tuesday 14th January, 2014 Dorothy's Sunday email said . . . "Tuesday looks like a good walk day at the moment. Trevor suggests we meet at Agneash for a walk to the other mines." Tuesday was still looking like a good walk day when we arrived at the little hamlet of Agneash about half way between Laxey and the Snaefell mine, the "other mines" that we were heading for. Work started on the mine in 1856 and it was closed in 1908 due to a serious fault in the main shaft. The possibility of early frost had been forecast but the morning was warm for this time of year, the sun was shining and there was hardly any wind. There was just one fluffy white cloud obscuring the top of Snaefell at the head of the valley.
We made our way up the track towards the mines. The route was stony and wet as usual. We paused a few times to photograph some ruins and a waterfall which tumbles down the side of the glen. It is hard to get a good photo of this waterfall because of the trees near the track. We have tried from different angles but I think this photo that Tim took, straight through the lattice of bare, pale ash branches, is by far the best.
Then we passed this old house just below the track - with only one picturesque wall still standing among the sycamores.
I noticed some other remains of buildings above the track, which we hadn't seen previously, and we walked up to examine them. It is hard to mentally reconstruct buildings from the odd wall and piles of stones but we decided that this was most likely a barn belonging to the house further down the slope. As well as the building, there was a retaining wall (possibly below a farm road), and some small levelled areas below. A lot of hard work must have gone into improving this farm.
Unfortunately the Snaefell Mine is best known because of a tragedy . . . the worst mining disaster in Manx mining history when nineteen lives were lost in May 1897. There is a description of the disaster on this link http://www.manxmines.com/SNAEFELL%20MINE.htm This is the rescue team. Captain Kewley, the mine captain with the very fine beard, is seated in the front centre.
And this is where he lived . . . the mine captain's house.
It is very difficult to imagine what the Snaefell Mine must have been like by examining the site today because very few of the original structures remain. I found this small photo which is said to have been taken around 1870. "The waterwheel used for pumping was 50 feet in diameter and was the fourth largest working on the Island at the time. On the right can be seen the shear legs over the shaft for raising the kibbles and in the foreground the men are at work constructing the washing floors."
We tried to work out the position of the nineteenth century photographer - and the position of the waterwheel. It was difficult because new structures were built in the 1950's. Metalliferious Holding Ltd. installed a mill and modern flotation tanks when they were reworking the deads. I thought the waterwheel had to be under the end of the system of wide leats bringing water from the hillside above, and then Trevor pointed out that a structure on the other side of the stream was the capped mine shaft. We were able to add all the clues together and come up with a satisfactory conclusion which was confirmed when I found the photo of the rescue team and noticed the surviving chimney behind the waterwheel. The first photo that I took shows a square opening to the tunnel for the stream which must have replaced the arched opening in the lower right corner of the early photo.
The capped mine shaft is the box-like structure in front of the conifers.
And this is the entrance to the tunnel for the stream (above the old mine) which matches the lower arched opening in the old photo.
And a sad reminder of the lives lost.
We left the valley and tackled the climb up to the Clagh Ouyr footpath. This part of the walk is hard work because we have to climb about 500 feet in less than half a mile. It was good to pause and take a last photo of the mines, showing the leats which diverted the water towards the big wheel.
Near the top of the climb, I paused again to get my breath and record these clouds over the sea.
Further on we passed through the old metal gate posts on the side of Slieau Lhean. A few years ago the path was a little further down the slope but it has been improved and returned to its original route.
Eventually we turned off the path, which continues towards the Clarum, and walked down a narrow and very wet path which took us back towards Agneash. A colourful fungal growth on a dead gorse branch caught my eye.
More wet paths. I was thinking that we have more than our fair share of water on the Island. We would make a fortune if we could export it! Then finally we reached the sloping field above Agneash.
We passed a group of hikers with a little dog below the field. They were examining the old wheel case at Glen Drink (where the fairies dance) before heading off towards the Snaefell Mine. The little dog came up to check me out and gave a soft growl before giving my hand an apologetic lick!
Water water everywhere Tuesday 7th January 2014 I received an email from a friend recently with the Subject "Water water everywhere" and I couldn't think of a more suitable title for our walk on Tuesday. But, at least it was possible to do the walk wearing hiking boots. The only footwear suitable for Ramsey at high tide last Friday was Wellies! The Isle of Man Today site even had a video of a man paddling a kayak up Parliament Street.
On Tuesday morning, after a panic - when we saw the ABS warning light had come on in the old Golf while we drove down the glen - and a quick return to the house to change cars, we managed to arrive at the meeting place at the side of the narrow road from the Gooseneck to the Hibernian just before nine o'clock. We were expecting sunny intervals and high winds as we set out along the track towards Park Llewellyn and the sun lit up the fields on our south-facing side of the Corrany Valley.
Last week there were a series of waterfalls at the side of our route up Glen Auldyn. This week's walk managed to be wetter. We even passed a mini-waterfall right in the middle of the "road".
We stopped to contemplate this structure - apparently built beneath the remains of an old stone wall. Were the openings made to allow sheep to pass through or just to let water drain from the field above? We need little mysteries like this to keep our minds occupied while we pick our way around endless puddles and loose stones in the track.
As we approached Park Llewellyn we stopped to watch an incredible aerial display. Two ravens were soaring overhead, gliding on the strong air currents and occasionally folding their wings back and diving through the air. It was quite magical. After passing the desolate old ruined farmhouse, we had to decide whether to head up to the hills or down to the mines in the bottom of the valley. Dorothy said "Mines" and we were happy to agree and avoid the even stronger wind further up the hillside. Last time we visited the mines, in March, we endured fog and slushy snow - so a bit of wet didn't seem too bad in comparison. But it was advisable to walk over the grass at the side of the track most of the way.
It was quite tricky getting past this puddle and I waited, camera at the ready, hoping for an action shot of Dorothy toppling into the water - but she didn't oblige.
According to a map in a booklet "Industrial Archaeology of the Isle of Man", there are three old mines in the Corrany Valley . . . the East Snaefell Mines, the North Laxey Mines and the East Laxey mine. Judging by the map in the booklet, I thought that the first old mine that we approached could be the East Snaefell Mines - but according to another source . . . "EAST SNAEFELL (Also known as North Laxey, North Great Laxey) lead, zinc and silver mine 1856-97 at head of Cornaa Valley. Very significant remains at SC428890; main shaft to 171f, excellently preserved processing area." It is very confusing. To confuse the issue even more an IOM newpaper article mentions "The Glen Cherry Mine, a little further down the same valley . . . " After checking as many sources as I could find, I have come to the conclusion that all the old mine workings that we examined must have been part of North Laxey Mines. Now I just have to look up some of the old terminology and find out what a circular buddle looks like!
I walked into one of the ruined buildings. It might have been a house or shelter for the miners because there was an opening in the wall above my head - for a fireplace to heat an upstairs room. Someone had taken advantage of the opening to build a very secure nest. It must have belonged to a big bird - maybe even the ravens that we were admiring earlier.
I climbed down to the edge of the pretty babbling brook that runs through the disused mine workings.
I wanted to take a photo of this old retaining wall on the far side of the stream.
There were more interesting structures a little further downstream. A series of three chimneys and supports for pump rods as well as more buildings.
The chimney nearest to the river had an opening at the base and a channel running down towards what could have been an engine room and/or wheel casing. I wish I could find more information about these old ruins.
We turned up hill before we reached the Glen Cherry mine and the East Laxey Mine because we wanted to walk past Keeill Woirrey which is the scene of William Kennish's Manx version of Gray's "Elergy Written in a Country Churchyard". It is a remote keeill surrounded by a small graveyard. The graves are marked by plain slabs of slate but a couple of simple engraved cross slabs were found at this site and are now in the Cross House in Maughold churchyard.
I asked the men to stand near the keeill to show how small the building must have been. Trevor was walking in to pose for me - but I don't do posed photos. Then Tim joked that I hadn't shown his best side - so I cropped him out of the photo!
We continued up the hill, aiming for a gate onto the track near Park Llewellyn. There was quite a deep ravine to cross. Trevor took the direct route to the top - straight through a gorse bush. But I chose a slightly longer but less prickly path.
On the way back to the cars, we encountered very stupid and stubborn sheep. It was trapped between the stone walls either side of the track and kept running ahead of us. Trevor tried to sneak past it to chase it back behind us but it persisted in panicking and rushing ahead. So Trevor very nobly climbed into the field above the track ran across the field and managed to climb over a wall back onto the track once he was past the sheep. Tim and I waited to see whether we could divert it through a gap into a lower field when he chased it back up the track. It was a bit like the TV series "One man and his dog". Our version was one man (plus his wife) with Trevor playing the part of the dog! The strategy worked. The sheep ran towards us and we managed to get it through the gap into the field. It had thoughts about coming out again but I waved my stick around and finally it caught sight of some mates in the far corner of the field and trotted off happily. Dorothy regretted that she didn't think of taking an action shot of our efforts.
That was the last of the excitement. The lower Corrany Valley looked very green and peaceful as we neared the end of the walk.
