Wish you were here . . . ? Wednesday 26th February, 2014. Wish you were here . . . ? If you had looked out of our bedroom window early on Wednesday morning your answer would have undoubtedly been a resounding "No!" Dorothy had emailed at the weekend suggesting "Wednesday at the moment seems like it might be a better day. Shall we meet at Port Mooar and take photos of a dramatic coast with huge waves breaking? High water is at 8.30. If it looks too awesome, we could head up the hill first." The forecast was for showers but our first impression of Wednesday's weather was of heavy rain - but less wind than we had expected. Tim phoned to make sure the others still intended walking and we set off for Port Mooar. The rain eased off before we reached the car park but it didn't quite stop. So I kept my camera in my backpack until we reached Dhyrnane. There was more evidence around of this year's wild weather. Seaweed debris and shingle had been dumped on the parking area by the high tides. Disappointingly for Dorothy, although the tide was high, there wasn't enough wind for dramatic waves. It certainly couldn't be described as awesome. But there must have been quite a heavy swell because a fishing boat which was passing the bay reminded me of a rocking horse. The walk didn't start well for me. While trying to step across a deep rock pool, my left boot lost grip on a slimy rock and my foot slipped into the pool. I lost balance and knocked my right knee against another rock - fortunately it was only bruised. But I had one boot full of water and a sore knee and the walk had hardly begun. It was a sort of "glass half full or empty situation"! I tried to be optimisitic and remind myself that I did have one dry foot! I didn't want to stop to empty the water out of my boot and hold the others up so I squelched on. After a while most of the water leaked out but my sock was still saturated at the end of the walk. The path around the bay had been badly undermined in places. We met a local resident who was taking his two beautiful black Labrador dogs for a walk and he recommended avoiding the path and taking a detour along the shingle but we managed to squeeze around this clump of blackthorn.
Further on we found that the boardwalk had survived but it looked a bit unstable at one end so I stepped down onto the rushes which had been flattened by the high sea.
When we reached Dhyrnane, the rain had practically stopped and I unpacked my camera. Tim took this photo of Trevor and Dorothy having a discussion about a rock, and me trying (without success) to fit them and the rock into the frame.
The discussion started because we couldn't remember whether a large boulder which was balanced on some other rocks had been there during previous visits to the little bay or whether it had been moved by the recent waves. After a bit of thought, we decided that the boulder must still be in its original position because the pattern of greenish growth (algae, moss, seaweed?) on its surface matched the growth on the lower rock. I think it may have looked different because the level of shingle surrounding the rocks was lower after being churned up in the storms and the rocks were more prominent. This is the "interesting" boulder!
We squelched up the muddy farm tracks to the church and passed "Betsy's field" on the way. I wondered whether some of the sheep in the field were the descendents of the sheep that Betsy chased around the field twenty years ago. She was hardly more than a puppy but we were traumatised because sheep worrying is taken very seriously. Luckily no-one witnessed her crime and the sheep seemed quite laid back about the whole affair. They gathered at the gate after we had captured Betsy and watched me give her a reprimand and smack - apparently with approval.
As you can see it was a very grey day. The sort of dull, damp day that most South Africans like to believe is typical of British weather. Many years ago, in the not so good old days, I remember hearing Pik Botha, the South African foreign minister at the time, being interviewed for the BBC. After trying in vain to defend apartheid, he finally played his trump card, announcing proudly that althugh South Africa had problems, it had much better weather than Britain! It had never occurred to me that governments thought they could claim the credit for "good" weather. The sun almost came out as we started along the brooghs but there wasn't much colour around. In desperation I took a photo of some gorse flowers near the path. They are bright and pretty but not popular because the prickly plants are invasive and difficult to eradicate from farm land.
We saw some distant sea birds - too far away to identity. A small group of birds were circling over the cliffs. They looked like doves or pigeons and I wondered whether they were rock doves. I would like to go back to have another look. I also saw a contented pair of fulmars who had a very secure nest site on the rocky cliff below the path.
We walked back to Port Mooar via Jack's Lane and the Dreemskerry Road. The sun came out while we were walking up the long hill and we felt rather hot with our layers of clothes and waterproofs. But the sun didn't last long and by the time we approached the cars the clouds were gathering again. The sea and sky were back to fifty shades of grey. I thought of using that as the title for the hike but sense prevailed. I haven't read the book but it caused a sensation and there was enough in the newspapers for everyone to have a pretty good idea of the plot. And I didn't want to mislead anyone. If we get hot and steamy on our walks it is only because we are walking up a steep hill in hot weather.
Hills, birds, mud . . . and Poppy Wednesday 19th February, 2014 We met at Glen Wyllin again this week. I wasn't sure what route Trevor had planned. The only hint in Dorothy's email was "Trevor thinks a walk inland from Glen Wyllin on Wednesday". We walked up through the camping area towards the road. There was evidence of the recent heavy rain and gales. First a minor landslip . . .
. . . and then a huge tree down across the grass. Luckily there are no tents or campervans using this site in winter.
We turned right when we reached Cooilldharry and walked up the track which links up with the road to Barregarrow. There is a picnic site near the top of the hill and I stopped to take some photos of the Michael hills which were capped with fog.
While I was looking at the hills I realised that this was the ideal spot to take a photo of Cronk Urleigh. I had looked up at the little hill from the main road when driving past but all that is visible from that angle is a gorse covered slope. A closer view of Cronk Urleigh.
This may (or may not) be a significant hill. As usual there are many differences of opinion. The only facts established beyond dispute are that it is now called Cronk Urleigh and that it was known as Reneurling in the past. The meaning of the name, Cronk Urleigh, is interesting. The translation from the Manx is "Hill of the Eagle" which is confusing because eagles have never been recorded on the Island. Another contender is "the hill or ridge of slaughter" but this is also doubtful and seems to be connected with a similarity between the word "Urleigh" and the name of an Irish town called 'Athna-nurlaidhe, which has now been Englished into Urlingford . . . this name means the ford of the slaughter.' One rather fanciful explanation which manages to combine both meanings is that the ridge is named for "the slaughter of sheep flocks by the (imaginary?) eagles". I can't find any discussion about the meaning of the previous name "Reneurling" - perhaps it has the same meaning as Urleigh on account of the ". . .urling" part of the word. And to muddy the waters further, there is also an argument that Urleigh may mean "forecourt"!
The hill is of historic interest because it may be the site of early Tynwalds (gatherings for the reading of laws). The Michael commissioners suggest "Another notable hill in the parish is 'Cronk Urleigh' which until 1428 was the site of the Tynwald Courts." This is debatable although an old document states "The Court of all the Tennants and Commons of Man, holden at Kirk Michaell, upon the Hill of Reneurling, before our doughtfull Lord Sir John Stanley, by the Grace of God, King of Mann and Th'isles, the Tuesday next after the Feast of St. Bartholemew, in the Year of our Lord God 1422." But it is suggested that this may be the only occasion when a Tynwald was held here (or not!).
Yet another theory is that Rhencullen, just north of Kirk Michael, may have been the site of the Tynwald - not Rheneurling/Cronk Urleigh. Kneen was interested in this possibility because of the possble connection of the Tynwald with the feast of St Bartholemew which was likely to have been held at Keeill Pharlane (in Orridale but now lost to the sea). Keeill Pharlane would have been 3 miles from Cronk Urleigh but much closer to Rhencullen. It was one of those occasions when the more research you do the less you know for sure. We continued up the road to the junction. Trevor thought of continuing up towards Barregarrow but that road leads to the main road and there is no way of getting back down to the coast again until you reach Cronk y Voddey. So we walked down the hill towards Spooyt Vane. It was very pleasant. Nicely relaxing to be going downhill again, especially as we were serenaded by the birds who are convinced spring is just around the corner. A little robin flew down and studied us from the verge but flew up to an overhead tree before we got our cameras ready. It stayed there for a while fluttering around and singing to us. I got one passable photo of it.
Then we continued down the road and turned off by the old chapel/Sunday School. At this time of year, with no leaves on the trees, the buttresses which were built to support the old building were visible. They may have been built during the renovations after the roof fell in in 1999.
We stopped to photograph some sparrows on a hedge . . .
. . . and then we were greeted effusively by Poppy, the friendliest young border collie we have ever met. She came racing up the track and approached us all in turn - sitting expectently until she had been patted and then going on to the next person. We were wondering what to do about her because she seemed likely to adopt us and come on the hike. Luckily a helpful man came out of a local house and said that Poppy lived nearby, at the farm up on the hill. He managed to distract her while we continued on our way. We thought of going up The Monks Road which used to be very eroded but appeared to have been improved since we last walked this way.
But the first footpath from The Monks Road down to the railway line would have been very boggy after all the wet weather, so we chose the shorter route through Glen Mooar instead. We climbed down the steep steps to the waterfall and Tim took this photo of Trevor enjoying the view.
I rather liked these ferns - growing amongst the moss on the bark of an old sycamore near the top of the steps.
Then we wandered down towards the road stopping to photograph the reflections on this pond. It was a still as a proverbial mill pond and may well have been an old mill pond.
It is just above the road from Kirk Michael to Peel and the old mill is just below the road. We stopped on the bridge to see whether there was any evidence of a water wheel, but the old mill building has been renovated and turned into an annexe for the house.
We spotted this unidentified character enjoying a relaxing life in the attractive gardens surrounding the old mill.
As we approached the shore, we became aware of more weather related damage. The end of the road had been almost completely washed away.
The last bit of the hike was a brisk walk along the beach back to Glen Wyllin. It had to be brisk because the tide was coming in. Some hikers that we met at Glen Mooar had warned us about orange mud oozing across the beach and we thought that they might have been exaggerating - but as we approached Glen Wyllin we realised that it would be impossible to get past the almost liquid mud with clean boots.
Tim took this photo of the toffee coloured waves near the shore . . .
. . . and I finished off with a shot of this suspended fence at the top of the cliffs. I wonder how far it was from the edge of the cliffs when it was erected . . . not far enough, obviously.
Two walks this week Monday 10th and Thursday 13th February, 2014 It was one of those awkward weeks when we were all busy on different days. Dorothy wrote to say "Trevor can't walk on Monday and I can't on Wednesday. The forecast for Tuesday isn't looking good at the moment. Time for that to change." Well, we couldn't walk on Tuesday so we finally decided on a short walk on Thursday to visit the snowdrops and then explore the Curraghs, a swampy area near the Wildlife Park between Ballaugh and Sulby. I asked Dorothy whether we should bring wellies in our backpacks and she replied "Wellies or Waders if you have them! I haven't been to the Curraghs for a while, but I can imagine." The weather on Monday was surprisingly good so Tim and I decided to take advantage of the conditions and go on an extra exploratory walk around Sulby Dam to check on the larch felling at Tholt y Will. There have been reports in the local newspapers about a fantastic machine which has been brought to the Island to "kick-start" the felling. They claim it can reduce a tree to mulch in between 30 and 90 seconds! It was cold when we drove up Sulby Glen. The car said that it was 1.5 degrees C but it didn't feel too bad because there was no wind. We parked in the usual place, near the old Chapel. While I was waiting for Tim to change into his boots, I wandered round the car park and started wondering about this immensely tall conifer. Most of the conifers had side branches, or at least stumpy bits where the dead side branches had fallen off, but this tree and about five or six others at the edge of the plantation had obviously had their side branches neatly trimmed. My mind boggled at the idea of climbing so high - just to do a bit of cosmetic tree surgery.
We walked up the track past the old schoolhouse. There was no sign of any tree-munching but the thought occurred to me that the steep sides of the glen might be unsuitable terrain for the vehicle. Also, most of the larches in Tholt y Will plantation are interspersed with plantings of other types of conifers so they will probably have to be tackled with chain saws.
The gate to the main path up through the plantation was securely taped shut.
We weren't concerned because we intended going up the forestry track to the dam. But when we got there we were confronted with a lot more more red and white tape. We are more timid about ignoring warning signs when we are on our own and the only other way up to the dam was through a water authority area marked "authorised personel only". So we walked back to the car park, checking all the gates into the plantation on the way. They were all securely taped - so we got back in the car and drove up to the dam.
There was no scary red tape at the top of that forestry track from the end of the glen road up to the dam even though it had been taped at the bottom - so we walked down the hill until we got to the track leading up to the Druidale Road. Both sides of this exposed track look as though they have been hit by a tornado but the devastation was caused by the worst winter gales that we have experienced since we moved to the Island. They occurred in midwinter at the end of 2004 and caused widespread damage.
Across the valley we could see a pale patch amongst the trees where the tree muncher must have been working - but no sign of any current tree felling activity.
We walked up the Druidale Road to see whether we could get a closer look at the munching site, but the next entrance to the plantation was also closed. We spotted this digger before we left the plantation and wondered whether it was working on the ditch alongside the road. But it was parked on private land and had apparently been working on a channel to divert water around the edge of the field.
The ditch next to the road had been deepened and "improved" recently but the high volume of water from the recent rains had eroded the banks and in one place the edge of the road had been undermined.
The advisability of dredging drainage ditches is being discussed constantly on the news because of the floods in Somerset and the deepening of these ditches does seem to have caused problems. But the erosion is probably due to the speed of the water running downhill - not a problem they are likely to encounter on the Somerset Levels. There is a low point in the road shortly before the junction with the path through Druidale Farm and there was evidence of more water damage from recent flooding here.
Above the road is the smallest lime kiln that we have seen on the Island.
I took another photo of the area where the larches had been mulched - using the zoom.
The path to the dam turns downhill past the avenue of ancient Druidale beeches. We were relieved to see that the bridge had survived the recent floods.
The bridge is a good place to take photos of reflections on the water with Snaefell in the background.
Looking back from the car park at Druidale farmhouse with its wonderful view across the dam. If houses had memories, this one must somethimes think that the outlook is very different from the original view when it was first built on the steep hillside above the wooded glen with its tumbling mountain streams.
The Thursday walk started from Ballaugh. The name 'Ballaugh' derives from the Manx "Balley-ny-Loghey" or "the place of the lake" so we were expecting a wet walk and we weren't surprised that the snowdrops at Broughjairg Beg were finding it difficult to keep their heads above water!
Tim took this photo of the impressive display just inside the gates to the farm house.
We walked back along the footpath to Ballaugh and then carried on along the old railway line towards Sulby. There were some massive puddles and plenty of mud along the track so Dorothy suggested leaving the footpath at the Wildlife Park and continuing along the main road. We turned off the main road before we reached the crossroads at the Sulby Glen Hotel. The side road had a cul-de-sac sign where it crossed the old railway track so we rejoined the railway footpath until we reached the A14 - exactly where the road was unexpectedly blocked by a massive tree!
The infrastructure men were there setting up Road Closed signs and checking the overhead power cables which were sagging but still appeared to be intact. They were further down the road and hadn't started working on the tree yet. There was no suitable alternate route to the Curraghs - so we quickly ducked under the tree before anyone noticed us . . .
. . . and continued down the road until we reached the minor road which led to the Curraghs. The Ballaugh Curragh is the last remnant of an ancient lake that formed in the lowland between the Bride Hills and the Manx upland. The lake was drained when the Lhen Trench was excavated. During the ice-age this was a melt-water channel flowing north to south (into the lake) from the melting ice front. It then largely silted up until it was dug out a couple of hundred years ago. The water now flows (very slowly) northwards and out to sea at the Lhen. After the exceptional rain this winter some of the fields near the road appeared to be reverting to shallow lakes.
There were deep ditches either side of the road which must have been connected with the drainage network.
We continued until we reached the beginning of the trail through the Curraghs. I was slightly dubious about tottering along the narrow planks which marked the route through the bog but Dorothy looked confident so we set off. It wasn't too bad as most of the planks were above water!
The dead fern fronds lining the path belong to Royal Ferns (Osmunda regalis), stunning giant ferns which flourish in the Curraghs. And Dorothy says that the green leaves, just below the surface of the water, belong to bog beans Menyanthes trifoliata
Bog beans were described by Manx poet T.E. Brown in a letter to his friend, S.T. Irwin dated 12 May 1895. “Yesterday we were at Ballaugh Curragh to get the bog-bean. It was most glorious. The flower was in perfect bloom, just at its akme, and we could have gathered cart-loads. Probably no daintier beauty decorates the British Isles. It is so delicate, so complex, and so distinguished. We also found the bog-violet in great abundance.”
T.E. Brown had written to another friend, J.R. Mozley in January of the previous year, enthusing about the Curragh. “I discovered a new country, the flat land lying between the hills and the north shore, more particularly that portion of it which we call the Curragh. The Curragh is a green bog, many miles in extent. It is full of bog-plants : for instance, there are whole acres of that most lovely flower the bog-bean. I had conjectured the beauty of this level space, with its sweet winding ways . . . Now I know it." I have never seen the bog beans in flower but I am determined not to miss them this coming spring. But even in winter the landscape is fascinating - with the dark, peat-stained water and the moss-covered branches of the willows reflected on the water.
But it is probably quite a different scene from that enjoyed by T.E. Brown. David J. Radcliffe has posted an old photo of the Ayres from the 1890's on this link http://www.flickr.com/photos/ballaugh/4298069897/in/set-72157622809469454 and comments "Note the complete absence of willow which now dominates the scenery of this low-lying marshy area." (If you like old photos, David Radcliffe has a set of Old Manx Photos on this link http://www.flickr.com/photos/ballaugh/sets/72157622809469454/detail/ ) Tim and I walked ahead until we reached a T-junction. While we were waiting for Dorothy, the local expert, to tell us which way to go I took a photo of this old stone - perhaps an old gate post next to the sod field boundary.
But I lost interest in the stone as soon as Dorothy arrived and asked if we had seen a wallaby! We hurried back along the path and were incredibly lucky. It was still there, a fair distance from the path but with the miracle of zoom almost close enough to touch . . . one of the descendents of a pair of wallabies that escaped from the Wildlife Park about fifty years ago.
If you would like to read more about the Curraghs and the wallabies - this is an interesting site http://www.willowmann.im/
We suddenly realised that we had been so carried away by our surroundings that we hadn't noticed that Trevor was missing! We made our way to the main path back to the road and Dorothy noticed footprints - coming in from the road and returning. So we assumed that Trevor had gone on ahead. We walked back to the road along the grassy path alongside the Killane Trench which takes water from this part of the Curraghs to the Killane River.
Then Dorothy remembered that she had a mobile phone in her backpack and called Trevor. He was well on his way back to her house so we hurried after him. The route back was uneventful - all along minor roads although there was still one very large puddle to climb around. I was surprised that I managed to get home with socks that were only slightly damp.
