Ballaglass

Season of Mists . . . 

Monday 23rd September 2013

It is that time of year when the seasons are changing and we don’t know whether to expect late summer or early autumn.  Monday fitted in very nicely with Shelley’s vision of autumn.  It was definitely a season of mists but I am not so sure about the mellow fruitfulness – unless you count the handful of blackberries that we found in the hedgerows.

The forecast was “Cloudy at first, with hill fog and coastal mist and fog.” But it was even damper than expected and we arrived at Ballaglass in fine drizzle and started off through the dripping trees.

We stopped to discuss a tall conifer but were unable to identify the tree because the leaves were so high that they were above the canopy of broadleaf trees.

It felt like good toadstool weather but the only fungi that I saw were these curious bracket fungi growing on an old decaying log.  I think the new growth at the edge is white while the centre is possibly darkened by algae.

We took a short detour to photograph a small ruined cottage and when we reached the old lead mine buildings we found Trevor photographing spider webs on some gorse bushes.  The webs were decorated with tiny water droplets.  There were so many webs that I wondered whether it was an infestation of gorse spider mites but we had a close look and they were definitely spider webs.  I found some more webs on a fuchsia nearby.

We passed the little stone bridge which carries the electric tram tracks over the Cornaa River and then climbed the steps past the tiny station and walked up a farm lane.  The mist was still clinging to the hillsides.

When we reached a lane leading towards the coast.  Trevor turned off and said we were going to Cashtal yn Ard.  I was a bit dubious.  We have walked along this route in the past, and it is described in John Kitto’s book “Family walks on the Isle of Man”, but it is actually a private road to a house which used to be derelict so nobody minded if you walked past.  But a few years ago the house was renovated and people are living there now.   Trevor said he thought it would be all right because the occupants were likely to be out at work but our discussion was interrupted by a woman who drove down from the house and stopped to speak to us.  She asked where we were headed and Trevor replied “Cashtal yn Ard”.  Either she took pity on four damp old hikers, or she fancied Trevor, because she said that we could walk along her drive “this time – but it is a private road”.  It was kind of her - but there was an understood subtext “Don’t do it again!”

Cashtal yn Ard is one of my favourite megalithic burial sites but I didn’t want to write too much about it after getting rather carried away by the Ballakelly stones last week.  So I thought I would just copy out the information on the Manx National Heritage sign and find a link to a longer description on the internet for anyone who is particularly interested.  But I found out more than I needed, or even wanted, to know.

I knew that the site had been excavated and most of the original cairn was missing.  I have a Manx Museum booklet which states “When first recorded in the earlier part of last century (19th) the cairn was rectangular or slightly trapezoidal, about 100 feet long and about 4 feet high, revetted by post-and-panel walling.  The walling, most of the cairn material and some of the orthostats were removed in the middle of the century for housebuilding.  The site was excavated by Fleure and Neely in 1935.”  But I didn’t realise the extent to which many of the remaining stones were a reconstruction.  It is rather disappointing.  You can find the rather lengthy report by Fleure and Neely at http://www.isle-of-man.com/manxnotebook/history/arch/aj16n4.htm

The concise description on the sign reads: 

CASHTAL YN ARD

REMAINS OF BURIAL SITE

OF NEW STONE AGE

CIRCA 1800BC

ORIGINALLY COVERED BY GREAT CAIRN OF

STONE WITH SEMI-CIRCULAR OPEN

FORECOURT AT WESTERN END.

A PORTAL FROM THE FORECOURT LED TO

FIVE BURIAL CHAMBERS WITHIN THE CAIRN.

The forecourt.

The burial chambers.

As we made our way from the stones to the road along the official footpath, we passed this little cottage.  It looks as though it has been mouldering away under its burden of ivy for hundreds of years but Dorothy had an old friend, Harry, who died a few years ago and he could remember when people lived in that cottage. 

Dorothy told me a bit about Harry.  He had been a farm manager and shepherd but was a talented musician, writer and painter.  That generation had to create their own entertainment in the pre-TV and computer age.  Now we spend far too much time staring at screens and fiddling with a mouse!

It was still rather gloomy but there was a little patch of brightness in the east which looked promising.  We walked down the road towards the shore at Cornaa pausing to photograph some more dew-spangled spider webs with the trees on the other side of the river in the background . . . 

. . . and a surprising solitary, drooping stem of goldenrod which didn’t look very happy on the damp shady bank.

We could hear shouting from across the valley and assumed that there were a group of young people exploring the river.  The tide was so far out when we reached the shore that there was a vast expanse of shingle. I was able to take this photo from the base of the cliffs where the river usually flows out to sea.  There was so little water that it was seeping through the stone beneath my feet.

As we approached the bridge which leads to the footpath through the Barony Estate, we passed the group of youngsters that we had heard from the other side of the valley.  They were all kitted out in wetsuits, life jackets, hard hats . . . the works.  It never ceases to amaze me how much equipment one needs to do the simplest things these days.  I must be getting old.

I was a bit puzzled by this new structure made of decking which replaced an old rotted wooden stile.  There used to be a fence and a gate, so the stile had a purpose – but the fence and the gate have both gone.  All that remains is the fine Manx slate gatepost.  I hope that survives if they intend replacing the gate.

Further up the track we were entertained by a robin, which wouldn't pose long enough for a photo, before passing a field with a couple of horses, and then coming across these rather tatty loaghtyn with rather magnificent horns.

And then we returned to the car park along the lower path through Ballaglass Glen.  It was rather surprising to come across this fellow, clasping a “Fairy Tales” book.  He had recently been carved out of a massive tree trunk.  It was probably a beech, judging by the logs littering the vicinity.

  

I am not sure how I feel about these statues which are becoming more common.   I think I prefer the authenticity of the remains of this old flax mill near the stream.

The sun finally emerged as we drove home – but it didn’t last long and the season of mists returned.

Santon

Yet more old stones.

 

Wednesday 18th September, 2013

 

While I was researching the old stones at Braaid and St. Patrick's Chair, I noticed some photos of the "chambered cairn" at Ballakelly and checked the location on my map.  We had never visited the Ballakelly stones because they are not on one of our usual walking routes and there is no suitable parking nearby but I thought I might plan a route which would include a visit to Ballakelly and a hike around the coastal footpath near Port Grenaugh.

 

This week's weather looked a bit too windy for the west coast walk that we had discussed last week so we changed the plan and met at Port Grenaugh on the east coast.   We arrived at the secluded little bay after another encounter with the morning rush hour traffic on the outskirts of Douglas. 

 

The route that I had chosen started off along the cliff path in a southerly direction.  The wind wasn't as strong as we had anticipated and the sun was shining.  I have never seen Port Grenaugh looking bluer.

 

And the icing on the cake was my first (and probably only) sighting this summer of a Painted Lady.

 

As we approached the junction with the path up past Ballafurt we saw that the field contained too many cows for comfort.  The only alternate route was to walk all the way along the coast path to Santon Gorge, which would have made the walk too long, so we braved the cows.  They may have been heifers and bullocks but as far as I am concerned "a cow is a cow is a cow" and I don't hang around long enough to examine them closely.  The path led straight through the middle of the herd so we decided to deviate slightly and walk up the edge of the harvested field on the far side of the hedge.  The "cows" were rather skittish and started a mini-stampede up their field into a higher field.  We waited until they had all passed us, hoping they hadn't gone to fetch reinforcements, and then continued on our way.  Fortunately they seemed to be even more wary of us than we were of them and they kept their distance.

 

We climbed over a stile and continued along the road up the hill behind Ballafurt.  It would be easy to assume that Ballafurt would be translated as Farm of the Fort but it was originally Ballaphurt and means Harbour Farm.  The farmlands must have extended all the way down to Port Grenaugh.

 

Along the lane we came across a welcome sign of autumn.  The blackberries are starting to ripen at last.

At the top of the hill we turned right and walked along the road towards Santon church.  It must be windy up here because we passed some wheelie bins and their lids were weighed down with heavy stones.

 

Santon was one of the original sixteen ancient parishes established on the Island in the middle of the twelfth century.  The name of the parish, Santon, has changed throughout history.  Starting as Sanctain and ending up as Santon, or less often Santan.  At one time it was mistakenly assumed that the church was dedicated to St. Anne!

 

The present St. Sanctain's church was erected in 1774 but it has a longer history because it was built on the site of an ancient church or keeill dating back about fifteen hundred years.

We never have enough time to explore these old churches and churchyards during walks but I went inside to take some interior photographs.  I had read that there were a few old Celtic crosses in the church. 

 

If I was superstitious I would believe that I was fated to get a copy of a little booklet on sale in the church.  There was only one copy left and it cost £2.  Now I don't take money with me on walks but I happened to be wearing my light anorak to keep out the cold wind and there happened to be two pound coins in the pocket.  I had put them in my pocket after returning supermarket trolleys and then forgotten to take them out.  The booklet was written by the Rev. J.M. Cotter, Vicar of Santon in 1977 and is an absolute mine of information.  

 

There wasn't much about the Celtic crosses but he wrote this about the stone with the inscription:  "The third stone is, in the Island's history, a rarity.  In fact, it is probably unique in that it is believed to be the only Roman remains of its kind ever to be found on the Island.  Its origin and history are quite unknown.  It was found amongst the foundations of what was once a former Church or Keeill during the excavating which took place for the building of the present Church.  It was once part of a gravestone and dates back to the seventh century.  Old gravestones have been used to form part of the foundations of Church buildings in many parishes.

 

The Roman stone in Santon Church bears a brief Latin inscription as follows:-

'AVITI MONOMENTI'  (The Tomb of Avitus).  Nothing is known about the Manx Avitus, but it was a fairly common Roman name in those early times and presumably had some connection with the Island, and with the Parish of St. Sanctain, in particular.  It is possible that he could have been a Christian priest, who had been sent to the Island by St. Augustine, and who lived and conducted worship on this site."

I would like to go back and browse through the churchyard.  According to the Rev. Cotter  there is an interesting gravestone - of Daniel Tear, a tinker and vagrant.  The epitaph was composed by Sir Wadsworth Busk, Attorney General of the Island and reads:

"Here friend is Little Daniel's tomb,

To Joseph's age he did arrive;

Sloth killing thousands in their bloom

While, labour kept poor Dan alive,

How strange, yet true, full seventy years

Was his wife happy in her Tears.

 

Daniel Tear, died 9th Dec. 1787, aged 110 years."

 

And another long lived inhabitant of the churchyard is ". . . Thomas Arthur Bridson, the noted Manx artist, who died in 1966 at the age of 105.  Every year, up to and including his attaining the age of one hundred, he climbed to the top of Snaefell mountain on his birthday."  I have been unable to find out his exact birth date.  I would guess that his birthday is not in midwinter like mine.

 

The road past the church led to the junction with the Old Castletown Road and we turned north and walked along the road for about a mile.  There wasn't a lot of traffic but the cars that passed us were travelling fast and we were glad to see the Ballakelly stones in a field alongside the road.   There were more "cows" in this field but they seemed quite relaxed and weren't very interested in us.  The only way into the field was over a gate which was securely tied shut.  

 

 No record remains of the first excavation of the site in 1865 but a few of the stones have been moved since the site was first recorded three years later and some prone slabs which form a rough circle around the monument were added early in the twentieth century.   I found some information about the stones on the internet.  According to Illustrated Notes on Manks Antiquities by P.M.C. Kermode and W.A. Herdman (1904):  "A stone circle on Ballakelly, Santon, may be Neolithic. It consisted of a double circle of large stones of the local Santon granite, set on edge, of which enough remains to show the original plan; in the centre is a cist also of heavy stones on edge one of the stones of the inner ring is ornamented in one corner by rows of small cup-hollows."

 

And in his address The Ancient Monuments of the Isle of Man in 1929, P.M.C. Kermode wrote in more detail "The ruined monument at Ballakelly, in the parish of Santan, seems to have been of this long-barrow type. Scarcely anything remains but the chamber, which approaches the appearance of those seen in the west of Britain. It is the only instance of a long barrow in the Isle of Man in which the burial has been found in a distinctly formed chamber instead of in a portion of the passage. There is now no trace nor remembrance of a facade, but there remains an oval space about 48 ft . by 30 ft . , with scattered blocks of stone, suggesting a passage running S.E. to N.W., towards which end is a well-formed chamber of three great boulders of the local granite, having flat faces looking inwards, and measuring 5 ft. by 2 ft. 6 ins., with a height of about 4 ft. The capstone is gone, but a fallen stone, 9 ft. by 2 ft. 6 ins., lying to the S.E. would fit this position. This is surrounded by seven rather smaller boulders (with a space from which another has been removed) in horse-shoe form, leaving the entrance open. The large outer boulder at the N.W. end is of special interest to the Cambrians since it was on this, as our Museum Chairman, Mr. Callow, remembers, that a group of cup-marks was found for the first time in this Island, during their former visit in 1865. On examining the inner face of the stone I found more cup-marks, which, from the first, must have been hidden in the ground. Of these I had a cast made, now in our Museum."

 

 

But my favourite reference was from Jenkinson's Practical Guide to the Isle of Man by Henry Irwin Jenkinson (published in 1874) "A mile from the Crogga stream there will be observed, in a field to the right, on the Ballakelly farm, a dozen large upright stones which are placed rather irregularly. They appear to form a grave some 10 yards long and 3 or 4 yards wide. The stones are unhewn, and 3 or 4 feet high, placed almost due east and west ; but what now appears to be the head is to the west. The natives call it a Giant's Grave, and in one stone is a number of round holes about ½ inch deep, which they say were made by the giants with their fingers when the stones were being brought to the spot. It is scarcely to be wondered at that ignorant, superstitious people should look with awe on these wonderful monuments of an unknown past, which are perhaps more plentiful in Man than in so limited an area in any other part of the world."

 

They are not very distinct but you may be able to make out the giant's finger prints in the top right hand corner of this stone.

We continued along the Old Castletown road until we reached a small road which turned off towards the coast and forms part of the Raad ny Foillan (Way of the Gull - the coastal footpath).  The path doesn't follow the coast all the way around the Island because some of the landowners refused to give permission for the path to cross their land - so there are a couple of detours inland to avoid the forbidden areas.  Our road eventually became a farm track and then we climbed over a stile and crossed a couple of fields (only sheep this time, thank goodness) until we reached the cliff tops.

 

Just north of this point is a little inlet marked on the map with the curious name of Pistol Castle.  I found an explanation of the name: 

Pistol (Bay and Castle).

Scand. Fiskastallr, ‘fish rock.’ In Hebridean Place-Names stal (Scand. stallr) means a ‘precipice or over-hanging rock.’

 

Tim took this photo of the view to the north showing part of the "private" stretch of coastline between Pistol Castle and Port Soderick with the Marine Drive cliffs in the distance.

Our route turned south.  I got a bit left behind because the narrow path was rather steep at first and I am nervous about slipping and falling so I am painfully slow on steep downhill stretches especially when the surface is a bit slippery.  While I was walking along I heard a strange noise from below.  In the water at the bottom or the cliff were three seals all staring up at me and apparently discussing the strange land mammal walking above them.  I tried to get a photo but they played hide and seek and ducked under the water every time I tried to focus on them.  All I managed to get were a few ripples and the shiny back of one seal as it disappeared under the water. 

 

A little further on I found a nicely static rock which reminded me of a sphinx with the top of its head missing.  The light is causing problems for photography now because the sun is lower in the sky and backlight can be a problem.  I would love to get a really good shot of the shining silvery sea and dark shadows of the clouds but it isn't easy.

Most of the way back the path followed the edge of the cliffs.  It was quite scary at times with a sheer drop, just a foot or so from the path, down to the rocks way below.  When we reached a stream below Meary Veg there was a steep climb down to cross the little bridge and then almost as a steep a climb up the other side.

There are a number of promontory forts along this stretch of coast line.  The "celebrity" fort is Cronk ny Merriu (Hill of the Dead) which features in a film at the Manx Museum but this nameless little fort also deserves a photo.   You can just make out the defensive bank on the inland side of the fort - in the centre of the photo.

 

Finally, we reached Cronk ny Merriu and Tim stood up on the defensive bank and took this photo of me and Dorothy muttering about some vandals who had apparently had a barbeque in the middle of the old Viking long house. 

I love the view from the fort across the clear water of the little bay.  The big white house in the centre was built fairly recently.  Ballafurt is further up the hill amongst the trees on the left.

While the others were getting ready to leave, I nipped down to the beach.  I wanted to take a photo of Cronk ny Merriu from the shore but there was too much backlight.  So I took a photo of the attractively weathered "striped" stone on the beach instead.

We all enjoyed the walk but Tim and I were glad that we no longer take a dog.  Apart from the danger of one of the old boys falling off a cliff there were the added problems of too many cows as well as speeding cars.

 

We are hoping for good weather at the beginning of next week because Dorothy and Trevor are off to Ireland later in the week.  They will be away for two weeks so we would like to have one more walk before they leave.

  

Douglas

Moghrey mie - Mooinjer-Veggey . . . Good morning - Little People!

Wednesday 11 September 2013

I don't remember how the subject came up in conversation but we decided to do this walk after hearing that Trevor had never visited the "real" fairy bridge. 

We arranged to meet on Wednesday and the forecast was quite promising when we made the decision but it deteriorated daily.  On Tuesday I bought a small folding umbrella - hoping to protect my camera from the predicted rain.  On Wednesday morning the forecast from Ronaldsway read:

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

Weather: Spells of rain heavy at times through the middle of the day dying out for a while this evening.

Wind: NW backing W 10-15 this morning then veering NW for a time this evening and overnight before backing SW by this time tomorrow.

Visibility: Good, becoming moderate or poor in rain or drizzle.

Temperature: Min. Air 12°C and Max. Air 15°C

Rainfall (mm): 5-10

Comments: Heavy rain.

It didn't bode well when there were a few drops of rain before we even left the glen.  We allowed an hour for the journey which was a good idea because morning rush hour traffic in Douglas is always a bit of shock for us country dwellers from the north of the Island.  Dorothy and Trevor were already waiting at the Pigeon Stream parking area on Marine Drive when we arrived.  We  walked along the road and through the old arches that mark the start of the tramway which used to run along the cliffs to Port Soderick from Douglas.  The tramway opened on 16 July 1896 and closed in 1939.   After the war it was sold to the Manx government and was converted to a roadway in 1956.  The new road only remained open to traffic for twenty years before part of it was closed to traffic on safety grounds.

Some interesting notices about the wildlife in the area had been erected near the arches since we last walked along the road four years ago and we stopped to read them.

The road continues past the old Douglas Head Hotel which has been converted into apartments, a restaurant which has been converted into offices . . . and the Manx Radio building, a square box which is unlikely to win any design awards - unless there is an award for the most boring building.   We stopped to photograph the view of Douglas.  Behind the entrance to the harbour in the foreground is the Tower of Refuge which was built on Conister Rock in 1832.  

 

Sir William Hillary, who settled on the Isle of Man in 1808 and lived at Fort Anne on Douglas Head, had a good view of the many wrecks in Douglas Bay and "In around 1824 he conceived the concept of a life boat service manned by a trained crew. The idea was new, but soon prompted the creation of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution."   A few years later he realised that a place was needed for sailors to wait for rescue in Douglas Bay and the Tower of Refuge was built.  There is a statue of Sir William on the hillside where I took the next photo. 

 

As you can see, the clouds were ominous but it wasn't quite raining.

We turned off the road and Tim took this photo as we walked down the steps to the South Quay and the new Millennium bridge which replaced an earlier pedestrian bridge.  We didn't cross the bridge because our route led upstream along the south side of the river.

I liked the contrast between this modern anchor . . . and the old buildings across the river . . . and the pretty hanging baskets of flowers.

A closer view of the buildings on the North Quay shows the hotch-potch of architectural styles - which will no doubt be added to by the new building being erected.  This is the oldest part of Douglas but none of the earliest buildings have survived because the whole of area of "old Douglas" was demolished in the 1930's.

 

 

We continued upstream leaving the urban landscape and walked along the Old Castletown Road until we reach the entrance to The Nunnery footpath.  I believe that The Nunnery is one of the most impressive buildings on the Island but the house is not visible from the footpath.  It is said to be the site of a 12th century nunnery which was closed during the 1540 dissolution ordered by Henry V111.  It later became the home of the Heywood family.  One member of the family, Peter Heywood, was accused of being involved in the mutiny on the Bounty and was condemned to death but was subsequently pardoned. 

 

Later The Nunnery was purchased by John Taubman.  The house was rebuilt either at the end of the 18th century or the beginning of the 19th century, accounts differ, and remained a family home with various owners until the end of the twentieth century when it was purchased by the Isle of Man Business School.   The only structure in the grounds that we could see from the path is a memorial to Thomas Leigh Goldie, Lt Colonel of the 57th regiment, who fell in the Battle of Inkerman (Crimea) 5 November 1854.  The memorial was originally topped by an impressive obelisk which was destroyed by a falling tree in the 1970's.  

This is an engraving of the house and the original memorial dating from the 1850's.

We continued along the pleasantly wooded path running between The Nunnery grounds and the river.  The leaves on a horse chestnut were starting to change colour - a sign of the end of summer.

 

It was very peaceful but there was quite a row about the use of this footpath in the past.  The following extracts are from a research blog by David J. Radcliffe MA  http://manxresearch.wordpress.com/2012/11/14/the-nunnery-footpath-between-douglas-and-old-kirk-braddan/     "The Nunnery footpath itself became a problem to the owners of The Nunnery in the 1830s/1840s when walkers were redirected around to the new western driveway. However by the 1870s, when the numbers of tourists to the Island surpassed the 100,000 per annum mark, most of whom stayed in Douglas, the main problems would have been firstly the sheer amount of pedestrian traffic using the route on Sundays in order to get to Kirk Braddan (the nearest church), and secondly, the promenaders who walked that way on fine summer evenings, and no doubt created a lot of noise."

 

There were even songs written about the dispute with Sir John Senhouse Goldie-Taubman, Speaker of the House of Keys and proprietor of the Nunnery  . . . and one song ended:

 

Now I think that if his title

Has been won by deeds like that,

In the very next big battle

He should be shot down flat,

For a man that will rob his townsmen

Of their favourite little stroll.

I think it very nearly time

                                                             That his bell began to stroll.    

   

The Nunnery footpath came to an abrupt end and our route turned across an industrial estate and a busy road.  I was rather confused because I had no recollection of this part of the route.  I wondered whether my memory was defective until we returned home and I found out that the industrial estate had only been built recently and I haven't walked along this path since the puppies were born over 13 years ago.  So I didn't forget it - it just wasn't there last time I hiked that route.  Luckily there was a footpath sign across the road and we picked up the route which followed the Middle River along the edge of the Pulrose Golf Course.

 

Then we turned up the road until we reached another footpath leading to Oakhill.  This is the footpath leading to the "real" fairy bridge. 

 

Now the Fairy Bridge that everyone knows is situated on a main road, the New Castletown Road, and is pointed out to all the tourists driving between Douglas and the airport in the south.  Visitors are told that it is customary to greet the fairies when passing the bridge.  There is even an urban myth that taxi drivers will refuse to pass the bridge unless their passengers say "Good morning Fairies!"   But this is not true - although superstitious locals might mutter a greeting.  Anyway, according to Miss S. Morrison, "A good Manxman does not speak of fairies — the word ferish, a corruption of the English, did not exist in the Island 200 years ago.   He talks of the Little People, or Mooinjer-Veggey or, in a more familiar mood, of "Themselves," Guillyn Veggey, or " Lil Fellas." In contradistinction to mortals, he calls them Middle World Men, for they are believed to dwell in a world of their own, being neither good enough for Heaven nor bad enough for Hell."  I wonder whether I am a "Middle World" person.  The description sounds rather appropriate.

 

But there is another fairy bridge which is considered to be the "real" one because it is marked on the old ordnance survey maps.  It is a mysterious bridge because there is no longer a road crossing it.  The route must have been diverted many years ago and the little bridge across the Middle River sits on its own amongst the trees.  The new river crossing is a ford and a footbridge but there is a narrow path worn along the bank of the river to the old bridge which is about twenty yards upstream.  

 

The side of the fairy bridge facing the footpath was decorated with various notes, tat and items left by superstitious visitors who must have been hoping their offerings would bring them good fortune.  There was even a little decorative metal structure with the message "For the fairies to rest . . . From Julie-Lynn".  It was surrounded by scallop shells.  I didn't know that fairies liked scallop shells.  One learns something new every day.  I walked further upstream and took a photo of the bridge from the other side.  I preferred the view without the embellishments.

  

We continued up the footpath until we reached a junction of four paths where we turned left towards the Old Castletown Road.  After a short walk down the road we reached another footpath leading to the coast.  We passed a few signs.  The first one urged us not to feed the donkeys and the next one, at the end of the donkey field, asked us to close the gate in order to keep the sheep out.  Then it was fairly easy to follow the railway line until we reached the end of the path.  Or it would have been if we hadn't turned off slightly too soon and ended up climbing over a barbed wire fence.  We joined the road near the top of the steps down to Port Soderick but decided to head back to the cars.  We had kept remarkably dry considering the forecast but there were the occasional few drops of light rain and we didn't know how long our luck would last.

 

The tide was out and Tim took this photo of the lovely bay at Keristal.  I noticed a zig-zag path from the road down to the shore at the far end of the bay.  I took a photo of it and commented to Trevor that the photo would remind me to come back in future and walk down to the beach.  He knew the path well and said that we could go down before returning to the cars if we liked.  So we turned off and walked down to the shore. 

While we were on the beach, Trevor told us about a man who once spent a year camping in a tent on the rocks jutting out into the sea below the cliffs.  I asked him to point out the camping site and he climbed up to show me.  He said there was another route up to the top so we all followed him.

It was rough going and steep.  When Trevor suggested that I walked across these sloping rocks to the little round platform in the centre of the photo where the tent was pitched, and which looked hardly big enough for a small tent, I decided that I had a good enough view from the so-called path . . . that it was threatening to rain any minute . . . and last, but not least, I don't like heights.

 

  

So I struggled up towards the road after Trevor who must be related to a mountain goat . . .  and Tim very kindly took this rather unflattering photo of my endeavours.

The rest of the route was easy . . . along Marine Drive.  The rain was still light but I was nervous about using the camera too often although I took a photo to illustrate the reason for the road being closed.  The layers of slate are twisted and fractured  and the area is prone to falling rocks and landslips.

   

I think the Mooinjer-Veggey must have liked us.  After an almost dry walk, the heavy rain arrived as soon as we were safely back in the cars - and then it belted down!                           

Freoaghane

No hills but three valleys

 

Thursday, 5th September, 2013.

 

After missing a walk last week because of the road closures during the motorcycle races, we walked later than usual this week.  Dorothy wrote at the weekend  "Trevor's daughter is on holiday this week from Tuesday and Trevor would like to take her on the walk from Montpelier.    The one we did last time but going the other way round.  I am busy on Tuesday and Wednesday so would Thursday be OK for you?"   I missed the last "one going the other way round" which the others did at the end of May, because of a painful back, so I was glad that the walk was going to be repeated.

 

There is a small parking space next to the Druidale Road near the Montpelier Wood and we met there.  It was cloudy.  Patchy light rain and drizzle had been forecast but it stayed dry.  The cool weather was very welcome because there is a lot of climbing in this walk even though the route doesn't take us over a hill.  First there is a long climb from the Druidale valley up to the footpath on the side of Slieau Dhoo.  Then a steep drop down into the valley on the north of Freoaghane, followed by a bit of up and down (more up than down) around the west side of Freoaghane, and finally a long climb up the valley between Freoaghane and Sartfell  before the final descent back to the cars.

 

Montpelier Wood is a small stand of old beech trees.  There are recent broadleaf plantings surrounding the wood which will greatly increase the wooded area in the future.   In a field above the wood is the remains of an old farmhouse.  There is a sad story attached to the house.  The last farmer lived there alone and Dorothy was told by her old friend, Harry, that  " . . . the man from the farm was ill with appendicitis, at lambing time.     He wouldn't leave his sheep to fend for themselves and was found to have died there, on his own."

When we reached Slieau Dhoo we turned onto the path which leads almost directly to the top of a stony track, which is an extension of the Baltic Road.  The Baltic Road runs down from the hills to Kirk Michael.    There was a misty haze in the hills, but the hill fog which we had noticed earlier was at a higher level than our walk.  We stopped to discuss the pile of stones known as Carn Vael (Michael's cairn).  I read up about the old stories connected to these stones, and the ruins in the valleys, when I last hiked a version of this route in July 2012.  The stories are contained in the report that I wrote after that walk so I won't repeat them here.  But, if you missed that email or would like to read them again, I have posted that report "Over Sartfell and around Freoaghane" on the blog containing some of our earlier hikes.  This is the link to the blog  http://caillagh2.blogspot.com/    Just click on 2012 on the right hand side of the page to find the Freoaghane walk.

We climbed over a stile and headed along the rough path that led down towards the old mine workings in the head of the Glen Maarlys.  The blanket of fog was still clinging to the top of the hills.

 

I was surprised to find some ivy-leaved toadflax (Cymbalaria muralis) decorating one of the ruined mine buildings . . . virtually in the middle of nowhere.  This little wild flower has a particular liking for stone walls but is usually found closer to civilisation.  I had assumed that it was a native wild flower but discovered that it originally came from the Mediterranean.

From the valley we walked uphill until we reached the "Wall of Death" where the path is so overgrown that we have to follow a very narrow sheep path along the side of an almost vertical bank.  The name occurred to me because it seemed almost as steep as the walls of the old funfair attraction - but there was an added reason for the name on Thursday.  An unfortunate sheep had died in the field below the fence and there was a strong smell of death in the air.

There were a few more obstacles to overcome before the long trudge up to the sheep-dip.   One was a short but steep climb into this gulley and a scramble across the little stream.

As we turned up Glen Kiark the view down to the coast was beautiful.  It was just as well that it was behind us because the path was rough and we needed to keep our eyes on the ground ahead.

It is always a relief to reach the sheep-dip because the climbing is almost (but not quite) at an end.  I wonder whether this old cast iron cauldron was used for mixing the dipping muti.*

*Explanation for non-colonials "Muti is a term for traditional medicine in Southern Africa as far north as Lake Tanganyika. In Southern Africa, the word muti is in widespread use in most indigenous African languages, as well as in South African English and Afrikaans where it is sometimes used as a slang word for medicine in general."

A welcome sight!  Snaefell and the North Barrule ridge behind the Druidale valley with just a distant glimpse of the Sulby Dam and the Montpelier Wood.  Now it is downhill the rest of the way.

We walked along the track until we got to the gate leading onto the "path" which follows the little stream down to Montpelier.  After a failed attempt to find a better route we scrambled down to the boggy path. 

This is a good place for wild flowers in spring but there wasn't much to see on Thursday apart from three types of heather, the ubiquitous tiny yellow flowers of the tormentil, and some devil's bit scabious.  The devil's bit made me think of the proverbial buses "You wait for hours for one . . . and then three come at once".   I have been waiting all summer to see the devil's bit and suddenly it has been a feature of two consecutive walks.  There is rather a nice story about how it got its name.  It is said that the Devil was so furious at the success of this plant in curing all sorts of ailments that he bit away part of the root hoping to put an end to its good works.  According to the legend, he left the plant with the abruptly shortened root it has today, but failed to destroy its healing powers.  It is recommended as a remedy for snake-bite, sore throats, wounds and the plague!  And it is also very pretty.

We got back to the peaceful shade of the Montpelier Wood but there were reminders that the weather can be wild up here.  The fallen trunks of huge beech trees littered the ground in places.  But a lot of the tough old trees are still standing, thank goodness.

There was one last photo stop while the others headed for the cars.  Dorothy and I couldn't pass up the opportunity of photographing the fungus growing on the remains of this old giant.

 

Next week we intend visiting the "real" fairy bridge - weather permitting!