Beary

Not a bad walk, but . . .

Monday 29th October 2012

 

    I spent most of last weekend worrying about weather.  After reading the various weather forecasts over the weekend for Monday, and watching the rain pouring down all day on Sunday, I wondered whether we might have been a bit overambitious in planning a long hike from Tynwald Mills.  The early forecast on Monday was still a bit iffy, predicting scattered showers and sunny spells in the morning, clearing in the afternoon.  When we left home at twenty past eight (after a very welcome extra hour in bed because of putting the clocks back) the weather didn't look too bad but I still thought an abbreviated walk might be a good idea - in case the threatened showers were heavy or prolonged. 

 

    We met Dorothy and Trevor in the car park and set out up the road past the shops and then climbed up the rocky track on the west side of Beary Mountain towards an area known as the Dowse - the name of an old farm on the slopes of Beary which has all but disappeared.    The first part of the steep, stony track follows the boundary of Ballig Plantation.  We stopped for a short rest and I took a photo of this larch.  I remember being taught about deciduous and evergreen trees at primary school and being told that conifers are evergreen.   It was only when we moved to the Island that I found out that there is an exception . . . larches turn gold in autumn before losing their needles.

Further up the path we could see the damage done by the recent heavy rain.  Tim took this photo which shows why we spent most of the walk looking down at the ground, to avoid tripping over stones or stepping in holes or puddles, instead of admiring the views.

But there were some lovely scenes to enjoy when we stopped for a minute or two to get our breath back.  I liked this lonely little cloud (or wisp of mist) floating over St John's with Slieau Whallian in the background.  It was a slight consolation for missing a photo opportunity on the drive down to Tynwald.  As we drove along Lezayre Road there was a thin band of early morning mist hovering just above the ground over the fields and under the old trees at Ballakillingan.  It looked very atmospheric but sadly it isn't a good idea to stop a car on a busy road to take photos.

When we reached the point where our path met the top of Mill Road, which leads down to the main Peel to Douglas road near Greeba Bridge, we stopped to discuss our options.  I suggested walking down Mill Road and then walking along the old railway lines and Brack a Broom Lane but Dorothy looked reluctant to give up the idea of a longer walk.  Trevor tossed a coin and the shorter route won - but Dorothy looked so disappointed that we ignored the verdict of the coin and headed uphill en route to Rhenass and the Little London Road. 

 

It was very quiet up on the hill.  The only sound was the babbling of the water running down little channels that had been eroded near the path.  We headed down a track through forestry land into the dip between Beary Mountain, Slieau Ruy, Cronk y Voddy and Sartfell and then turned down a footpath towards Ballasayle.  The going was very wet underfoot and I was worried about the route through the farm which is usually churned up by cattle.  Fortunately It wasn't much worse than it is in dry weather . . . but it wasn't much fun picking our way down the rough path at the top of a bank - the official "footpath" resembles an overgrown swamp, blocked with gorse and rushes.

 

When we approached the old ruined farm buildings at  Ballasayle, the track improved and we came across a field of Highland cattle.

I think a group of mad, puddle-dodging hikers was the most interesting thing to pass their field all day.  A few drops of rain started falling and my camera was safely packed in a plastic bag. Tim took this photo of the inquisitive beasts.

Having made our way through the farm, the next obstacle was the ford at the Rhenass River.  The stepping stones were almost under water but fortunately a kind man, who was building an extension on the nearby farmhouse, said that we could walk through the building site and cross their bridge.

 

After crossing the river, most of the route back to the cars was along minor tarred roads, but we still had one steep climb from the Rhenass valley up to the Little London Road.  I stopped for a rest and took another photo of Ballasayle from a different angle, with the forestry track down the lower slopes of Beary Mountain visible in the background on the right.

As we reached the Little London Road, the view changed and we could look north towards the outline of the mountains in the Scottish borders.  The zoom effect makes them look even closer and more impressive.

 

Regarding the rest of the walk (down the Little London Road to cross the main road at Cronk y Voddy and then along the Staarvey Road) . . . the less said the better.  We were tired after hours of rough walking and the rain which had avoided us for most of the morning arrived.  Also we were walking along tarred roads and Alexander had to be on the lead in case of speeding cars.  Now Alexander doesn't like walking on the lead and he doesn't like the rain.  So he wasn't a happy chappie.  At one point he looked so miserable that Tim picked him up and carried him for a bit.  But he cheered up when the rain stopped we let him run free for a while as we walked down the track towards the Poortown Road.

Nearly back . . .  and St John's looked very pretty in its autumn setting.

 

So, all in all, not a bad walk . . . but it would have been even better if it had been a bit shorter and a bit drier!

 

PS  Poor little Alexander was very tired on Monday evening.  He lay on a mat in the kitchen and only had enough energy to open one eye when I spoke to him.  We wondered whether we were expecting too much of him.  Four hours of rough walking, without even stopping for a tea break because it was too wet, is tough on a small, plump, elderly dog.  Happily, the next morning he was fine - full of bounce and trying to boss his bigger brothers again.

Ohio

A short damp walk

Monday 22nd October, 2012

 

If there are weather gods, they must have a slightly warped sense of humour.  I planned to mow the back lawn on Sunday afternoon but the grass was saturated and stayed wet all day.  The forecast had been for dry weather for the next five days - so I decided to continue cutting back the old growth on the knapweed and oregano that I left for the bees, and to put off the mowing for a couple of days, hoping for drier grass.  Of course, when I checked the forecast again in the evening, it had changed.  After an allegedly dry Monday, rain was now expected for Monday evening and early on Tuesday.

 

Well they were wrong again, it started raining before we left for Sulby this morning - but fortunately it was just patchy drizzle.  We started from the Claddagh and climbed up the farm track to Ohio Plantation.  The planned fungus hunt was a bit disappointing.  The most photogenic examples were these little mushrooms which look suspiciously like honey fungus and were growing around a dead larch.

While we were waiting for Dorothy to finish taking photos, we started wandering along a track towards the east side of the plantation.  There were a scattering of rather tatty nondescript white mushrooms and I thought I might take a photo of them on my way back to the main path so that I could try to identify them from the illustrations in my mushroom book.  But, after Dorothy joined us, we found there was a mountain bike track up the edge of the plantation and decided to explore. So no tatty white mushroom photos.  But I took a misty photo of the top of Cronk Sumark, the site of an ancient hill fort, with the northern plain behind.  No views of the Scottish coast this week, we could barely see the coast of the Island.

Then we turned up the mountain bike path which followed the edge of the plantation until we climbed down a steep bank onto the top of the main track through the plantation.

We did a bit more exploring in the plantation but I didn't find much which interested me although Dorothy spent quite a lot of time photographing a rusty and semi-collapsed corrugated iron shed. 

 

Then we returned to the main path and walked up through the fields.  The approach to the gate onto the moors above the Narradale Road is along a track with a fence either side.  I noticed a couple of sheep ahead of us and Tim put Danny on the lead.  There was no way for the sheep to get out.  The only thing they could do was double back, and run past us - a tactic which was complicated by a huge, deep puddle near the gate.  We started climbing up the bank at the side of the track to bypass the puddle.  After dithering for a while, one of the sheep panicked and decided to jump over the puddle.  It either underestimated the size of the puddle or overestimated its jumping ability.  Not even an Olympic long-jumping sheep could have cleared the water.  It took a huge leap into the air and ended up doing a sort of woolly swallow dive into the middle of the puddle - making a huge splash and sending up a spray of muddy water.  It was followed by its companion in slightly less dramatic fashion.  Dorothy was disappointed that we didn't manage to film the action but it really needed video to do it justice.

 

We had planned to walk on to the dubs (dew ponds) on Sky Hill but it was still a bit drizzly and the light wasn't great for photography, so we turned down the Narradale Road.  I thought I had photographed this old slate gatepost before, but Tim remarked on the contrast between the old and new gateposts and mentioned that the new one "has no artistic merit".  So here is a photo of the non-artistic gate.  It looks as though the old gate post had been relocated after the entrance was widened but, unless there are two slate gateposts on the Narradale Road, this is an imposter.  It is not the same gatepost that I photographed in the spring. 

Further down the road I stopped to photograph some web, bejewelled with minute drops of water.  I wanted to see what it would look like magnified on the computer.  I am not sure whether the web belonged to a spider or to a colony of gorse spider mites.

 

When Dorothy and I caught up with the men they were looking over a gate at the side of the road and two extremely large and muddy pigs were looking back at them, apparently hoping for food.  Danny had never seen a pig before and was fascinated until the larger pig snorted at him.  He found this highly alarming and backed away with a nervous look on his face.  We continued down the road, but Danny kept looking back.  I think he was concerned that the pigs might escape and chase us down the road.  The poor boy was obviously worried by his encounters with flying sheep and snorting pigs because his tail was down almost the whole way back to the car. 

 

Ballacuberagh

Best laid schemes . . .

 

Monday, 15th October, 2012

 

    During last week's walk, Trevor mentioned that he had heard that there had been storm damage to the track through Ballacuberagh Plantation in Sulby Glen.  I had a feeling that Dorothy would want to go there to have a snoop, so I checked the government road closure website when I got home to see whether the track was closed and saw the following notice: 

	"The U100 Ballacuberagh, in Lezayre, will be closed to vehicles from its junction with Sulby Glen Road to its junction with Druidale Road, from 2.30pm on 1 October until 6.00pm on 15 October 2012 or until the water damage repair work is completed, whichever is the earlier."

 

    When we discussed the route for the next hike, I wasn't surprised to get this suggestion from Dorothy " We haven't walked from the Wild Life park for a while.    Round up Sulby and over the hills above Ballaugh etc." . . . .  because that route includes the path down behind Mount Karrin and through Ballacuberagh to Sulby Glen.  I thought it should be all right because the roadwatch website only said that the track was closed to "vehicles" and didn't mention walkers.  Anyway they apparently expected to have finished the repairs on Monday evening . . . or earlier.  But I should have known better.

 

    We met at the wildlife park and started off along the old railway line to Ballaugh Village and then crossed the main road near Ballaugh Bridge and walked up the tarred road to Ravensdale, at the entrance to Ballaugh Plantation.  We were feeling quite virtuous because we used to take a short cut along a muddy track which bypassed the village . . . until we were informed by an officious young man that it was a private road.  I don't know how we were supposed to guess because there was no sign to inform us of its alleged "privacy" and the narrow road passed a number of properties.

 

    We were too busy dodging puddles and mud along the railway line to take any photos and there wasn't much of interest along the glen road except for these berries on an old Lords and ladies flower spike (Arum maculatum).  These plants have a variety of common names - all having a sexual reference - Lords and ladies, Adam and Eve, Sweethearts, silly lovers.  One book says that they were called Cuckoo Pintle (which was later "cleaned up" by abbreviating it to cuckoo pint) in the sixteenth century.  No one is sure whether this referred to the alleged lustful behaviour of the male cuckoo or whether it was derived from "cuckold".  Anyway, the flowers are insignificant compared to the garden arums, but the bright, poisonous berries stand out against the background of wet autumn foliage.

    The path through the plantation above the duck ponds is starting to look slightly autumnal.

  We were looking out for fungi but didn't see much except for this pair of baby Fly agarics (Amanita muscaria) under the conifers.

    After emerging from the east side of the plantation and walking up the Druidale Road for a while, we turned off onto a track across a rather featureless hillside towards, Bullrenney, an old ruined farmhouse.  Tim, having an interest in classical music, has nicknamed this hill, Bare Mountain.  It may be bare (or bald, which is apparently the literal translation from the original Russian) but the views are superb, particularly when the air is clear on an autumn morning.

 

  This is Trevor, looking a bit "Heathcliff", contemplating the Scottish coast . . .

. . . and this is the view to the north with the Mull of Galloway on the horizon.

    The hill may be bare but it certainly isn't dry!  Tim took this photo.

    As we approached Bullrenney, we could see the outline of the blue and distant Cumbrian mountains.

    We stopped for a short break on a dryish bank near the gate to Bullrenney and then picked our way along a sodden, rutted path and through some very wet heather until we reached the gate to the path leading down to Ballacuberagh.  This is where things really started to "gang . . . agley".  We came across a large "Road Closed" sign and red and white tape across the locked gate.  Further proof that one shouldn't believe anything one reads on the internet.  Even government websites are misleading.  I checked the site again on Tuesday morning and the road closure warning had disappeared although the repair work definitely hadn't been finished.  I am almost certain that  they hadn't  even started repairing the track.

 

    On Monday morning there appeared to be some work going on near the footpath ahead but we were too far away to see what was being done.  No one was keen on retracing our path back to Ballaugh, so when Trevor climbed over the gate we followed like a herd of sheep.  It didn't look as though our law-abiding principles at the beginning of the walk were going to be maintained.  The top of the path was no different from usual and it became apparent that the earth moving equipment that we had seen was working on roads and drainage ditches on the farmland alongside the footpath.  A nice young  tractor driver took the trouble to stop and warn us that the path was dangerous further on.  He wasn't joking.

 

    I had hoped that we would be able to walk down with care but the ruts were too deep and narrow and had undermined the sides of what remained of the path.  Trevor climbed over the fence onto the new farm road which ran parallel to the path at that point and the rest of us followed.

    We continued down the farm road, because the "public footpath" was getting worse and worse, until we reached  a couple of vehicles parked just above the plantation, where the new farm road turned right before zig-zagging down the route of an older track to the Sulby Glen Road.  I was contemplating the possibility of climbing over the fence into the trees but Trevor spoke to one of the men standing by the vehicles, pointed down the road and asked "Is it all right if we go this way?"   "You might as well" was the slightly grudging reply.  So we continued down their road.  We had walked this way "slightly illegally" on a couple of previous occasions after climbing Mount Karrin (also slightly illegally) but that was before the zig-zag road was "improved" and the whole area was still pretty much deserted apart from a few sheep.

 

    We continued down the tarred road through the glen, towards the cluster of houses near the end of the glen, discussing the new developments on Mount Karrin farm; wondering why they were spending so much money on roads and drainage; and wondering whether their new drainage had diverted water to the footpath and caused the recent dramatic erosion.

 

    Right in the middle of the little village we saw a hedgehog, curled up on the pavement near a wall.  It wasn't an ideal location for hibernating and I wondered whether it was dead.  Trevor touched it and it opened one sleepy eye - so we took some photos and left it in peace.

    We rejoined the railway line and survived the mud until we got back to the cars.  It was a very wet walk underfoot but we were so lucky that the rain held off for the whole morning.  If we had walked on Tuesday or Wednesday we would have been absolutely drenched.  It has been raining on and off for the past two days and some of the showers have been very heavy and prolonged.  I hope the little hedgehog found a more sheltered place sleep before Tuesday morning.

Slieau Curn

Footsore and weary again

Tuesday 9th October 2012

 

    Dorothy and Trevor were back at the weekend, refreshed and invigorated after their trip to Wales and England.  We decided to repeat one of our regular walks up Slieau Curn on Tuesday, starting from Dorothy's house so that we could drop off some raspberry plants for her.  Now, instead of having an aching back from too much gardening I am footsore and weary again.

 

    The sun was shining when we set off at nine o'clock,  the temperature was eight degrees and there was very little wind.  Ideal walking weather.  The sun was so low in the sky that we decided to do the flat part of the walk first so that we wouldn't be looking directly into the sun on our way up the hill.   There wasn't much of interest on the first part of the walk along the old railway line.  Dorothy checked on a field where we saw some old rusty farm equipment in March but was disappointed to see that the farmer had been tidying up - or the long grass and brambles had been doing the job for him - because there was nothing photogenic in sight.   I did see a "new " flower for 2012, an evening primrose (Oenothera Spp.).  They are not native wild flowers although they are included in most British wild flower books. "Common evening primrose was thought to be a mainland European species but probably arrived there from North America in the 17th century and then spread to Britain in the 19th century."  I am not sure whether this is the common variety, the large flowered variety or a hybrid.

. . . and on the way up the Baltic Road I took a close-up photo of some red campion (Silene dioica).  It is supposed to flower from May to September but I doubt whether there is any month of the year when there is no campion flowering on the Island.  Even in midwinter we see the odd flower on a straggly plant growing on a sheltered bank.

    Near the top of the climb we turned off the stony road into the little gully between Slieau Curn and the knoll and stopped to take photos . . .  and for a short rest and refreshments.  Danny was most interested in the people with food.  You can see Kirk Michael, where we started our climb, by the coast.  The condensation trails in the sky must be pointing towards Belfast airport.  A lot of planes fly over the Island and the trails can be pretty when they turn pink as the sun sets.  But they must be annoying if you are trying to film some historic drama.

    The little path through the gulley is a short cut to the next proper path round the east side of Slieau Curn and down towards Ballacobb.  The wooden fence (in the photo above) is an attempt to keep the off road bikers from using this route and churning up the vegetation.  Once we reached the official footpath it was downhill nearly all the way  . . . with Slieau Curn on our left and Glen Dhoo below on the right.

    The camera may not lie but it can certainly distort.  I started playing with the zoom and took this photo of our route down from the stile at the edge of the moors to Ballaugh Church.  It doesn't look far with the foreshortening effect caused by the zoom but it took us very nearly an hour to reach Dorothy's house which is amongst the houses to the right of the church.

    Before following the others, I took a photo of Jurby church (also using the zoom).   I liked the effect of the patchwork of various coloured fields.   Some were bright green - some, recently mowed, were beige - and others which had just been ploughed were the colour of milky cocoa.  There have been doubts over the future of Jurby church because of dwindling congregations and structural problems.  The tower is showing signs of breaking away from the body of the church although it isn't considered dangerous yet.  Efforts are being made to find additional uses for the church as a venue for concerts and art exhibitions.  It would be sad to lose the building.

    The road down through the farmland wasn't too bad except for a couple of impressive puddles.  The first one would have qualified for a "puddle of the year" award".  It is a year round hazard and we managed to edge our way round it in spring but either the puddle was bigger this time or the gorse near the bend in the road had grown and was overhanging more.  If we didn't want to get our feet wet, the only solution seemed to be a bit of trespassing.  We turned off through a gate into field of sheep (carrying Danny) and were delighted to find another gate just beyond the puddle so that we could rejoin the road without having to climb over the fence.

 

    We managed to walk around the edge of the second puddle.  I have included these photos because I was interested to see how different the same scene looks  from different angles and using different lenses.  It is hard to believe that it is the same puddle.  I was trying to catch up to the others and took the first photo of them, using the zoom.  The second was taken by Tim, using a normal lens and looking back as I reached the puddle.

    As we approached the end of the road we passed this sign . . .  and just after I took the photograph the postman came racing past in his little red van.  Obviously not a cat-lover. 

 

    The last stretch was back along the railway line to Ballaugh.  Another first sighting for 2012.  A couple of small patches of common toadflax (linaria vulgaris).  I thought this might be another American export because I saw a lot growing near Yellowstone Park years ago - but the reverse is true.  It was introduced to the USA from Europe and is now classified as a noxious weed in some of the states.