St Luke's

Not quite three hills for the price of one

 

Monday, 26 March 2012

 

    Too much has been happening to me recently.  Two birthdays last week, three trips to Douglas - with the added stress of a hearing test, ordering hearing aids, as well as deciding on a new camera.  By Sunday, I had a headache and had to resort to Ibruprofen.  So, after a sleepless night and an early morning before last week's walk . . . I woke much later than I planned before this one.  It wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't been rather bleary after taking the painkillers, and also been slightly "jet-lagged" after putting the clocks forward for an hour for summer time.  I glanced at the digital clock by my bed, thought it was just after seven, and calculated that I just had time for a cup of tea and a quick email check before getting dressed.  But when I switched off the PC and returned to the kitchen, I saw to my horror that it was already ten past eight!  It must have been just before eight o'clock when I woke.  I had misread the time.  We were due to meet Trevor and Dorothy at St Luke's at nine o'clock and had planned to allow over half an hour for the drive.  First, I panicked . . . then I asked Tim to phone Dorothy  . . . no answer . . . she had already left.  I managed to dig out Trevor's mobile number and Tim got hold of him and told him we would be late.

 

    Then I threw on the nearest available clothes and chucked a few dog biscuits at the Schipperkes instead of their normal breakfast.  By some miracle, I managed to locate my sunhat (which hadn't been used since last summer), grabbed the first pair of hiking boots that I saw, loaded a couple of dogs in the car, and we set off up the mountain road towards the meeting point.   About half way through the drive, I realised that I had forgotten to take my glasses.  Luckily I don't need to be able to see clearly to take photos because my camera can make all the decisions as long as it's pointed in approximately the right direction. 

 

    The second miracle was that we were only five minutes late - but I was absolutely shattered before we even started on the hike.  St Luke's is an interesting church.  It is perched on a ridge between the East and West Baldwin valleys in the centre of the Island.  Tim wondered about the choice of location because most churches on the Island are in the centre of towns and villages.  I suggested that the site was chosen so that the church could serve the farms in both valleys - but I have since read that it was built on the site of an old keeill (chapel).  The curious shape of the obligatory yew tree in the churchyard fascinated me - probably caused by a combination of strong winds and pruning.

    We started off down the road into the East Baldwin valley and then walked north towards the start of the footpath leading up to Windy Corner - an aptly named corner on the TT course.  The banks at the side of the road were sprinkled with primroses; difficult to photograph in the bright sunlight . . . but I did find a few slightly nibbled specimens in the shade.  There were also one or two wild violets and even an unusually early bluebell.  The seasons have become a bit confused with the end of March being unseasonably hot and dry, and coming after a mild winter.

    We turned off the tarred road onto an old farm road.  There is a wooden footbridge across the river now but we stopped to take photos of the old river crossing, trying to decide whether it was a ford or a collapsed bridge.  The dogs took advantage of the stop to cool off in the water.

    As we continued up the track, Tim started reminiscing about seeing a curlew in this area some years ago.  I remembered the field where we spotted it, and stopped to point it out to Tim. While we were talking, a curlew flew out of the thicket on the other side of the field, followed a few minutes later by its mate - too fast and too far away to capture on "film".  They must return every spring to nest in this secluded part of the valley.  The hill in the background is Carraghan.

 

    The next part of the walk was a long slog up from the valley towards the mountain road.  I was wilting and we hadn't even started on the hills, but we had a welcome rest waiting for Dorothy who had fallen behind after spending some time stalking a sheep.  I forgot to ask her why that particular sheep was so photogenic.  They all look more or less the same to me, except the loaghtans, of course, which are an ancient Manx breed, allegedly introduced by the Vikings.

   I had started off with a rather ambitious plan to do a "three hills for the price of one" walk and go over Mullagh Ouyr, Beinn y Phott and Carraghan but Dorothy said she was still rather tired after an over energetic stint in her garden and I wasn't feeling exactly sprightly either - so we decided to omit Mullagh Ouyr and took a short cut cross-country from Gob y Creggagh (an outcrop of rocks on the hillside) to the junction of the Brandywell Road and the Mountain Road.  It was a bit boggy in places but it was worth it because of the birds.  First we saw a wheatear, and then we were serenaded by skylarks!  I looked for them in vain, not helped by the fact that my glasses had been left at home, until I finally spotted one as it fluttered down towards the ground . . . a lark descending!

 

    The next rather boring photo was chosen partly to prove that the skies are not always grey on the Island  . . .  but mainly because of what is missing.  As we started up Beinn y Phott, Dorothy said "I wonder why they took the bridge away?"  I asked which bridge she was talking about and she said "The footbridge!"  Being rather dim, I asked "Which footbridge?"  and she replied "The one across the road at the Bungalow!".  Then I realised that the iconic footbridge across the TT course was missing.  We had driven up the road in such a rush that we hadn't noticed that it was no longer there.  It is a mystery.  I had a look at the local newspaper website on Monday afternoon but couldn't find a story about it.  We don't know whether it has gone for good, or is being reconditioned or replaced.

    The Bungalow is now just the name of a bend in the road, and a halt on the electric tram route from Laxey to the top of Snaefell, but the name originates from The Bungalow Hotel which was situated here until it was demolished in 1958.  I found an old photo of the hotel taken by a TT fan.  Those were the days before Health and Safety went mad!  TT spectators wouldn't be allowed nearly so close to the road now.

 

 

    Half way up Beinn y Phott I stopped to get my breath and looked back.  I couldn't believe how clear the air was after a few hazy days.  The blue and distant mountains of the Lake District looked almost close enough to touch.  In the foreground you can see the Mountain Road as it crosses the side of Mullagh Ouyr.

        Beinn y Phott is usually referred to locally as Pennypot.  According to Kelly's Dictionary of the Manks (1866) Beinn means the top or summit of a hill.  Kelly goes on to say "we have a remarkable mountain called Pennee-pot, the pointed pot"  It doesn't look particularly remarkable, or much like a pot or even very pointed, to me - although there may be a vague similarity to an upside-down wok. 

 

"The pointed pot"!

   We made it to the top . . . next challenge Carraghan, in the centre of the picture . . .

 

    . . . . . but first a stop for refreshments.  In the rush, I forgot to pack the dogs' water bowl but luckily I had a sturdy plastic bag in my backpack and they were quite happy to drink out of an improvised "canine nosebag".

    And finally, the view from Carraghan, the last hill, and a glimpse of Injebreck Dam in the West Baldwin valley.   The East Baldwin valley is on the left and the footpath to St Luke's follows the top of the ridge between the two valleys.

    We passed the site of an early Tynwald by the path above St Luke's but I was too tired to think about anything except getting back to the car and collapsing.  This site (of an early parliamentary gathering) was used in 1429 so it has been there for a long time, and the not very interesting circle of stones which marks it will doubtless still be there next time we pass that way.  As the Manx say "Traa dy Liooar" which means "time enough", the local version of "Môre is nog 'n dag".

************

 

PS  This turned out to be Alice's last hike.  She had been diagnosed with cancer nine months previously but she was a tough and spirited old girl and kept going until her health suddenly deteriorated.  We missed the next walk because of an emergency vet appointment.  There was never a dull moment with Alice in the house and I hope my little lady continues to cause chaos in the happy hunting ground. 

Slieau Curn

The Slieau Curn Walk

 

Monday 19th March, 2012

 

    It is time that I learned to think before I speak!  Monday was Dorothy's birthday and I had the bright idea that we should start the walk from her house - so that we could bring a bottle of sparkling wine to drink her health after the walk.  It would have been more inspiring to drink the toast on top of a mountain, of course, but those bottles are rather heavy (and there was the problem of keeping it chilled).  Dorothy offered to "have some nibbles at the ready" but it seemed rather cheeky to invite ourselves to her house and then expect her to provide snacks - so I said I would take "the nibbles".  Then I went into panic mode and asked her for advice because I know she has had problems with allergies but she said she was all right as long as the snacks didn't have too much sugar, spice or fat.  Well, that ruled out about 99% of the stock in the supermarket!  I decided the safest option was to make some sandwiches - cucumber would be suitable, and also smoked salmon.  I also bought a few of the less toxic looking cakey things in the shop and planned to get up early to make the sandwiches in the morning.  The consequence was that I had a disturbed night because I was worried about oversleeping and kept waking to look at the time.

 

    The dogs got very excited about the sandwich making.  They really approved when I pretended to be posh and cut off the crusts.  Those crusts barely reached the kitchen floor before being wolfed down by the waiting hounds. 

 

    Well, after far too little sleep, the climb past Ballacobb up the hill looked more intimidating than usual.  Luckily for me, Dorothy wasn't fighting fit either - so I didn't get left too far behind the others.  There was a cool breeze - and the blue sky and the views across the green fields were lovely and kept my spirits up.

    The birthday girl!   Approaching the gate which leads onto the moors.  The cluster of houses (in the centre right of the photo) is the village of Ballaugh where we started the walk. 

    There is something special about being up in the hills - even when the colours are rather bleak after winter.  The air seems fresher and the "emptiness" seems inspiring . . .  just us . . . plus a few black-faced mountain sheep, who also valued their privacy and disappeared as soon as they saw us coming.  Looking from Slieau Curn, across the eastern slope of Slieau Dhoo to Snaefell with Clagh Ouyr and the North Barrule ridge in the distance.

    At the side of the road down to Kirk Michael, I saw a flock of Loaghton sheep in a field and couldn't resist trying to photograph them.  Of course, they immediately turned their backs on me and stalked off.  I spent a while, first battling to get the camera steady by resting it on top of a gate, and then trying to set the zoom.  By the time I was ready, a group of the sheep had turned around and were staring at me in amazement.  I could almost swear that they were thinking "That woman must be really stupid if she is thinking of getting a new camera when she can't even use that one properly yet!"

 

    The next part of our walk was along the disused railway line.  The route from St John's to Ramsey opened in 1879 and closed in 1968.  According to the Isle of Man Steam Railway Supporters' Association the Ramsey line http://iomsrsa.com/ramsey-stats was "By far the most spectacular of the island's lines, the ambitious northern section caused headaches throughout its lifetime, most notably the exposed section at Gob-Y-Deigan and the embankments nearby."     Our route followed a flatter section of the line further north.  So, sadly, we missed the remains of the viaducts across the glens, and the embankments.  The massive stone pillars which used to support the viaduct across Glen Wyllin, shown in this photo from 1895 are still standing but the "bridge" across the top was demolished after the line closed.  

    

    Instead of stone pillars and sea views, I had to be content with some old bridges.  We reached the "railway line" by climbing the steps near the bridge which used to carry the railway across the narrow valley and stream at Balleira.  This old bridge has now been demoted to carrying foot passengers and a couple of large diameter pipes. 

    Then we came to a series of three, almost identical bridges - supporting small roads above the old railway line.  They were all made of a combination of Peel sandstone and Manx slate.  The first two were topped by brick wall - and the third had a slate wall.  They must have all been built at the same time - when the railway first opened.

    The Island changes so quickly through the seasons that a repeated walk is never quite the same.  We often choose this route in winter so that we can enjoy the drifts of snowdrops in a farm garden near the footpath.  If we had walked in the beginning of March there would have been a froth of white blossom on the blackthorn . . . and it won't be too long before the leaf and flower buds open on the hawthorn.  But on Monday the gorse didn't have to share its glory.  The gorse hedges lit up the sides of the path.  The scent of the flowers was strangely reminiscent of North Beach in Durban on a hot summer day.  It is not unlike a mixture of almond and coconut - similar to some old brand of sun tan lotion.

    We slowed down to pass some other dog walkers and fell behind Trevor and Dorothy - but caught up when we found them in the corner of a field taking arty photographs of rusty farm machinery.  The most interesting item was this old bit of equipment.  I brushed the grass away from the footplate and found out that it is a "Lion" trip-action rake which was made by Bamfords of Uttoxeter.  Later I found a website which " is operated by the Bamford Engine and Machinery Group, a non-profit group of enthusiasts dedicated to renovating farming equipment from a time gone by" but I was unable to establish the approximate age of the rake.  I think it is likely to date from the late nineteenth or early twentieth century.

    The early wild flowers are starting to open.  There were masses of lesser celandines on the banks at the side of the path almost glowing in the sunshine like little gold stars.  I also saw the first few stitchwort flowers of the season and some red campion.  There were lots of leaves on the bluebells and wild garlic - but no sign of buds yet.  It will be another month before they are at their best.

 

    This enormous slate "bench" at the side of the path near the footbridge over the Ballaugh river has always intrigued me.  When we passed it on Monday, it occurred to me that it might originally have been used as a bridge to cross the river, which isn't much more than a stream, before the new footbridge was constructed.  This path would have been a route used in the past by local farm workers, to walk to church in Ballaugh, and they wouldn't have wanted to get their best clothes wet or muddy.

    Sadly, the very old people, with a personal knowledge of recent local history, are dying out and much of their knowledge has been lost.  So we can only speculate about things which were not considered to be worth recording.

Ballure

A Walk from Ballure

 

Wednesday 14th March 2012

 

    It was a rather overcast day - but not much wind and fairly warm for this time of year so I can't complain.  There were patches of sunlight around - but none on the lower slopes of North Barrule where we were walking.  North Barrule has a tendency to attract cloud - rather like Table Mountain with its "tablecloth".  Different terminology here, though.  Dorothy once remarked "I see that North Barrule is wearing his hat"!

 

    It was a short, easy walk because Dorothy is recovering from a bad cold.  We started from Ballure Reservoir, which used to be the main water supply for Ramsey before the much bigger dam was completed in Sulby Glen in the early 1980's.

 

    One of the joys of walking on the Island is the lack of crowds.  We seldom meet other hikers and on Wednesday morning, a solitary fisherman was the only other person enjoying the peace and quiet of the reservoir.  It is allegedly stocked with trout but he said that he hadn't even had a nibble.

    As we walked along the path around the edge of the reservoir, we came across another fisherman - a feathered one.  I managed to get a slightly blurred snap of him drying his wings. 

 

    Then Dorothy crept down the steps to get a closer view of the cormorant.  It was amusing, watching her playing "statues" with the bird . . . taking a few slow steps and then freezing every time it glanced around.  Eventually her patience paid off and she got almost close enough to touch the bird.

    We continued round the edge of the water until Trevor spied a mountain bike path leading uphill through the trees and we went off at a tangent to explore.  It was quite a steep climb and there was a bit of discussion as to whether it was a "short cut" or a "scenic route".  We eventually reached the forestry track although looked as though poor Dorothy was wilting a bit as she approached the road.

    We walked up the track to the top of the plantation and then crossed the road to fields above the Gooseneck (a famous corner on the TT course).  Our target was a small cluster of ruined buildings . . .  Park Mooar - big pasture (in English).  In an old document it is referred to as . . . "Lands and premises called Barroole or Great Park". 

 

    As we approached the old farm, we passed an old hawthorn hedge which had been planted in the traditional way on a sod wall or field boundary also confusingly known as a hedge.  These old earth walls or "hedges" predate the dry stone walls made of slate which became popular during the nineteenth century.  The hawthorn hedge reminded me of lines from a poem by Wordsworth: 

"Once again I see
      These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
      Of sportive wood run wild:"

    I wasted a lot of time trying to confirm a story about Park Mooar (in books and online), but without success.  I finally decided that Alan Boak, our neighbour when we first moved to the Island, must have mentioned it to me.  There are two lots of ruins from different periods in close proximity.  There are the older farm ruins but also the foundations of this more recent cottage which was probably demolished when the water authority took over the land. 

    The story I heard was that the "new" cottage belonged to an old man who had grown up on the farm.  He lived down in Ramsey in the winter - but spent the summers up in his cottage on the hillside.  He certainly had a wonderful view. 

 

    Behind the cottage we found an old plough lying near a bank.  Tim and Alexander were interested.  The old farm buildings are in the background.

 

    After leaving Park Mooar we headed downhill, climbed over an old gate, walked up the mountain road for about fifty yards and then turned down onto a footpath which eventually led to the Albert Tower.

        The story of the tower is very popular in Ramsey.  It was built to commemorate a visit by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert.  The royal party were scheduled to visit Douglas but stopped in Ramsey Bay instead because the rough seas were making the queen seasick.  Being by far the biggest town, Douglas rather looks down on Ramsey . . . so it is nice to have this memorial to our triumph over the royal visit!

      If you are interested you will find the full story behind the building of the tower in the Ramsey Times of September 25th 1847.  http://www.isle-of-man.com/manxnotebook/wma/v1p102.htm   It is rather long so you may prefer this short extract from "the handbook to Ramsey and Neighbourhood, published in 1882". 

ALBERT TOWER.

The Tower was built to commemorate the visit of Prince Albert in 1847. Early in the morning the Royal yacht being in the bay, a boat conveyed the Lord Bishop, the Archdeacon, the Northern Deemster, and other gentlemen, to present an Address to Her Majesty, who, however, was indisposed; but they were very graciously received by Lord Palmerston. Sometime after this one of the boats of the Royal yacht had already put off towards the shore, but the expectant crowd were surprised to see it making, not for the pier where they were assembled, but for Ballure, where His Royal Highness landed, and asking the guidance of a few townsmen, was conducted by them to this hill. The prospect gained his warm admiration; he asked many questions, and returned to the Royal yacht evidently well pleased. Immediately after this, the Governor (the Hon. Charles Hope), arrived on the shore, having driven furiously from Douglas, only just in time to have the vexation of seeing the Royal steamers starting for Fleetwood. The band on the shore twitted the crestfallen Governor by playing " Oh, dear ! what can the matter be ?" Illuminations and public rejoicings followed, and it was soon determined to erect this Tower as a memorial.

    The view from the tower is impressive, with the town and Ramsey Bay below, the northern plain to the left and Maughold peninsula to the right and even the coasts of Scotland and Cumbria visible on a clear day - but it really needs a panoramic photograph to do it justice.  On Wednesday I had to be content with a shot of the town bathed in spring sunshine.

    We returned to the cars across the fields behind the tower - not strictly legal but preferable to the legal footpath which is overgrown with gorse and consists mainly of deep mud, churned up by cattle.  Trevor and Dorothy stopped off to photograph more ruined farm buildings at Ballastowell, but I had had enough ruins for one day and we took the dogs back to the car.

    The late George Quayle had a theory about the number of deserted farms in the uplands in the north of the Island.  He wrote that the upland farmers were descendants of the original Manx Celts who were driven into the hills and found refuge there at the time of the Viking invasion.  The Vikings took all the good land near the coast.  The Celts farmed the uplands for centuries until two things occurred.  The importation of cheap grain from the colonies meant that local production was no longer profitable - and the enclosure of the Commonlands meant the farmers no longer had adequate summer grazing for their animals.  Then the increased use of lime instead of manure to fertilise the fields impoverished the soil.  The young people gradually moved to the towns or emigrated and the old folk clung to their way of life as long as they could but eventually died out.

Laxey

The Lady Isabella, Agneash and the old town.

 

Monday 5th March 2012

 

We started from the parking area near Brown's Cafe in Laxey and walked up the road towards "The Lady Isabella" - the great Laxey water wheel which used to pump water from the mines further up the valley.  I thought we would continue up the road but Trevor wanted to walk past the wheel which is now just a tourist attraction.  The tourist site is closed during the winter season and we had to climb over the turnstiles which were locked with a stout chain.  There were a couple of workmen busy on renovations.  They were working on the spiral steps which lead up to the viewing platform above the wheel.  I wondered whether we would get into trouble - but the men just said hello and carried on with their work as though four trespassing hikers and a couple of dogs were an everyday occurrence.

If you are interested, here is a link to a contemporary report on the opening of the wheel in 1954.   http://www.isle-of-man.com/manxnotebook/iln/n141054.htm

 

I couldn't get a dog to oblige so I made Tim stand next to this huge bit of machinery to indicate the size.  He says is is a connecting rod but according to one of my books it is a crank.  Probably just two different names for the same thing.  Apparently two were ordered but only one was used and this one has been lying around for over 150 years.

We continued up the mines trial, climbing over a few fences because the gates were locked, until we came to the ruins of the machine houses, which looked rather picturesque perched on the steep sides of the glen.

The path led to some steps up towards the road and, at the top of the steps, I noticed a muddy little path leading up the hill in the right direction.  It looked as though it was used as an illegal access route to the mines trail.  With the help of a convenient rowan tree, I managed to scramble up the bank and we picked our way up the rather steep, slippery path until we reached the road.  Tim joked that we would be able to save a few pounds if we used that route to take visitors to the wheel . . . but they would need to be very agile visitors.

 

The road leads up to Agneash, a little hamlet up in the hills.  I read a bit about Agneash and found a report by the Manx Natural History and Antiquarian Society which visited Agneash in 1939. "The Society broke new ground on the 18th May, 1939, when it visited Agneash and Snaefell Glen district, under the leadership of Mr James Mylchreest, a Lonan man, well familiar with the area.  The party met at Agneash. The leader said it was formerly known as Hegness, but in his early days it was popularly known as "The City.""  You can see from the photo below that "The City" seems be an exceptionally inappropriate name for Agneash - perhaps they were being sarcastic.

In the foreground of the photo of Agneash is Glen Drink.  There was an amusing story in http://www.isle-of-man.com/manxnotebook/fulltext/jk1874/index.htm 1874.  "On the right hand, close below, is the Agnaish stream, and near to a building connected with the mine a small glen is observed, called Glen Drink, which the inhabitants say was formerly a favourite resort of the fairies. About fifty years ago a Primitive Methodist minister began to hold a service every other Sunday in a private house in the glen, and at this the fairies, not admiring Dissent, appear to have taken umbrage, for they then departed, and have not since revisited the neighbourhood."  The association with fairies is confirmed by Peter J. Hulme who gives the origin of the name as "Glen Drink (Mx) = 'The Glen of Dancing' (of the fairies??)

 

From Agneash there was a bit more uphill walking along footpaths through farms and then we headed down the Ballaragh Road towards Laxey.  If you can bear any more history, you might like to read the chapter on Laxey from Leech's Guide of 1861  http://www.isle-of-man.com/manxnotebook/fulltext/lg1861/ch11.htm

 

The photo below shows the inner harbour and part of the old town near the shore.  

We walked along a short section of footpath to the north of the river which leads to Laxey Head and the outer wall of the harbour.  I have never walked along there before and it was interesting to see Laxey from a different angle.

 

After a tea break in the warm sun on the sheltered hillside we climbed down the step path to the harbour wall.

It was worth the effort to see Laxey from the east with threatening clouds looming overhead.  Luckily they blew away and we had a dry end to the walk.

Before we got back to the old town, the sun was out again and I took one last photo of the river with the boats parked alongside.  And then it was uphill again - along rather muddy footpaths by the river - until we crossed the railway line into "new" Laxey and returned to the cars.