With spring in the air our destination for April's tour was the Isle of Man. This Crown dependency with its own Parliament was once described by a local wit as being, "A rock in the middle of the Irish sea with 80,000 alcoholics clinging to it" - perhaps that was the attraction for us? It is also famed for a number of things; the Manx cats which have no tails; The TT races that occur in May and June which sees the island flooded with motorbike enthusiasts to watch people with a death wish hurtle round the island's 37.7 mile course on public roads and they do this in 17 minutes averaging 136MPH ! Other interesting facts about our destination - the Isle of Man Parliament, The Tynwald, was the first national legislative body in the world to give women the vote in 1881; The Isle of Man has no capital gains tax, wealth tax, stamp duty or inheritance tax and a top rate of income tax of 20% but perhaps what probably tipped it for our visit was that Malcolm (AKA The Grinstead Giggler) had been brought up on the Island so we had a ready made Tour Guide for the trip.
We gathered on Sunday night in the Premier Inn in Lancaster to plot, plan and prepare for our adventure. We being me, Richard and Malcolm - The Highgate Viking had had to drop out due to work commitments So with bikes cleaned, chains lubricated and panniers and bags packed we headed for our ferry on Monday and the crossing to the IoM.
Lancaster Departure
Eric steps in for Richard
Our route took us on the cycle path from Lancaster to Morecambe and onwards to the port of Heysham marked by the huge concreted blocks that are the nuclear power station that guard the harbour entrance. There are certain factors that not even the most meticulous travellers can plan for and the change of our vessel from the luxurious Manxman ferry which was built in 2023 and had a capacity for 1000 passengers and crew to the ageing rust bucket The Ben My Chree which was built in 1998 with a capacity for 666 passengers and crew was one such factor. The other significant factor that we had no control over was the weather. We had picked a really bad day to travel - gale to severe gale force winds, squally heavy rain and all battering us from the north west.
Not looking pretty !
We took shelter in the Half Moon Cafe on Heysham beach after we had battled into a head wind that was so strong we were fighting our bikes from being blown sideways. Much to mine and Malcolm's amusement we had earlier watched as Richard and his bike skid on mud whilst he was trying to read some interesting plaque on the side of a sports hall about the football referee Mark Clatenburg. He went down like a sack of spuds but quickly picked himself up hoping that we hadn't witnessed his fall. We showed him a yellow card and booked him for diving!
Heysham
Security Man
Having checked in we than had to wait in the cold wind and rain to board. At one stage the wind was so strong I sought shelter in the security man's hut. Eventually the rust bucket left port over an hour late and headed out into the the gale.
The crossing was unpleasant to say the least. We managed to secure the last 3 available seats in a lounge that was full Primary school children from Doncaster some of whom didn't look very well and were clutching little white bags which didn't appear to be their packed lunches. For those who suffer from seasickness I am told, it is the worst possible feeling in the world , fortunately for us, we didn't so passed the time sipping our bottles of beer watching streams of people rushing to the toilets and crew members milling around armed with buckets and mops. The overcrowding of the ferry didn't help as there was limited places where the wretched souls could wretch. All in all it was the worst ferry crossing of my maritime experiences.
Beers from the Cafe
Arrival in Douglas was a massive relief, late but a relief. A 4 minute ride away we located the Premier Inn right in the heart of downtown Douglas, which Malcolm proudly informed us that it had just been granted City status... I knew his local knowledge would come in useful. After all the exertions of the day we decided to eat in the hotel and get an early night ready for Tuesday's big ride.
Tuesday dawned bright and sunny but still windy. Our planned route was to head north to Ramsey and then across the island to take in some of the places where Malcolm had grown up and then back to Douglas on the old railway line from Peel. We were keen to sample all that the IoM could offer so had chosen to start loading our bikes onto the Electric Train that runs from Douglas to Ramsey via Laxey.
The hour journey in the open sided carriage ensured that we had some spectacular views of the island even if it was a little cold! What also fascinated me was the friendliness of the people who stopped to wave at the passengers as the train passed through villages - can't see it catching on in on the 0826 from Woking to Waterloo though . Coffee in Ramsey to warm up was preceded by a visit to a local bike shop. Alarmingly Malcolm's newly acquired ebike was displaying an error message and he wasn't getting any power assistance. The bike shop guys had a look but didn't have much idea what was causing it but miraculously by the time we left the shop the fault had cleared itself.
From Ramsey we headed west across the island to Kirk Michael and where Malcolm had spent much of his formative years. We cycled passed his late parents houses, his grandfathers house, his old Primary School and would have visited the Mitre Pub, where he'd probably had his first pint of Okells bitter aged 8, had it been open. We detoured down to Glen Mooar where Malcom had fished , swam and had other unmentionable experiences and where he still to this day , owns some land. Richard & I did have a few suggestions as to what he should do with it but I'm not sure they were taken seriously.
Glen Mooar
Peel was our next stop but not before a quick photo call by the road sign to my favourite named place on the island - Cronk y Voddy - sound like some cheap Polish Vodka that you can get in Bargain Booze.
A bottle of Cronk y Voddy please!
Sweeping down the main road from Kirk Michael we arrived in Peel a little bit thirsty so headed to The Creek, another one of Malcolm's old haunts from his younger days. Peel, once the capital of the IoM, is the 3rd largest town on island and is the largest fishing port. Peel is also home to the Dixon sisters, Nicola and Isla, former students of Atlantic College and well renowned Manx women in their own areas of expertise. Nic is an artist who is just about to have a set of stamps released from her designs. Check out her website www.nicoladixon.com to see her vivid and colourful works. Nic and I had sailed together when she was a student. Isla had been a contemporary of Richard at Atlantic College and now runs an internationally acclaimed Physiotherapy business on the IoM, check out her website, www.scottphysio.com. So sitting outside The Creek I decided to give Nic a call to see if she was around for a catch up. Five minutes later she arrived to join us followed shortly after by Isla. Strangely I had earlier enquired in the pub if anyone knew a maritime artist who lived locally but nobody had heard of Nicola Dixon. Quite a shock when she turned up outside and promptly told us that she had designed the cushions for the pub - we enlightened the bar staff to this fact!
Nic's bird cushions
Former class mates
It was late in the afternoon by the time we had finished catching up and Nic and Isla had to leave us. So we before we set off for Douglas we weaved our way to have a look at Peel Castle. The ride back to Douglas was along the old railway line which although flat, seemed to take an awful long time to return to our hotel. I'm pretty sure we didn't cycle in a straight line on account of the Okells bitter consumed during the afternoon reunion. Finding somewhere to eat in Douglas after 9.30 on a Tuesday night in April proved problematic - all of the restaurants we tried were either closed or had stopped serving - we ended up sitting on some rickety plastic chairs in a seedy looking Kebab shop in a back alley eating something that had been carved off, what looked like an elephants leg... and chips. Later that evening it was for Richard, a case it was abrakebabra - now you see it.... now you don't.....now you see it again. He claims he was just coughing!
Injebreck Climb |
Reservoir to Mountains |
On reaching the summit we paused for refreshments and a photo call with Snaefell as our backdrop before heading down to the TT course to Windy Corner and the Creg Na Baa hotel for some liquid refreshments.
Posing with Snaefell |
Fixing his bike outside The British Hotel |
For our last day of cycling we had decided to put our bikes on the Isle of Man Steam railway which runs from Douglas down to the south of the island. It is the longest 3 foot narrow gauge steam railway in Britain and still uses the original trains and carriages.
Train spotters |
Alas, just before the train left 5 other people and a dog squeezed into our carriage for the journey down to Port Erin. The train trundled along through the scenic Manx countryside, whistling and blowing smoke along the way. The usual waves from passers by lightened our journey and inevitably the shared conversation with our fellow travellers. One of the conversations concerned statues. I had mentioned the one of Eric Morecambe where we had taken a photograph earlier in the week and Malcolm asked whether the Norfolk contingent of our carriage had seen the statues of the Bee Gees in Douglas, they hadn't but it did come as a surprise to learn that Barry, Maurice and Robin Gibb had been born on the IoM. For some reason the conversation turned to the Scout Movement and Baden Powell. One of the women from Norfolk sitting next to me whispered loudly and theatrically to her husband , "I heard that he wasn't a very nice man and the only reason he set up the scouts was so he could get close to the young boys. He was , you know (pregnant pause and sly glance round the carriage) one of those homosexulists! " With that, the three of us were about to burst our stifled mirth but managed to stare blankly out of the window. It was sort of timely that when we got off the train, Malcolm reminded us that the IoM was the last place in the British Isles to legalise same sex activity as late as 1992. I wonder what Lord Powell would have thought.
From Port Erin we took the steep road out and headed for The Calf of Man, the southerly most point. A few photo opportunities and a coffee in the Sound Cafe and we were back on our way heading to Castletown.
The Calf & Castletown in the rain! |
As it had been raining we decided to take refreshment before heading back to Douglas so called into The Sidings Pub, a splendid warm hostelry that had Okells bitter on tap and roaring open fire and was the old station. Needless to say we didn't want to leave, but....
The Sidings |
A sunny Marine Drive |
A wet British Hotel |
Rhino |
Pizza for supper was followed by a night cap in the hotel bar before slumber. Our journey home was going to be a long day. The ferry, Manxman sailed on time and was as luxurious as the Ben My Chree had been a rust bucket. Spacious, plenty of seating and access to wifi!
Departure from Douglas |
Sun at last |
The ride back to Lancaster was without incident... no falling off and Richard also managed to keep his crank on. Cars loaded we headed back south and another epic cycling tour had come to an end.
Anyone up for Ireland in July ?