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.
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