Isle of Man (England)

.../> Why not just the Isle of Man?

Dennis W Turner


***** In the beginning *****

A few years ago in the cinema, I fell in love with the countryside on the film of Waking Ned (Devine). The story was set in Ireland, but on buying the DVD some time later, I discovered that the film was not made in Ireland, but on the Isle of Man. This set me on a quest to visit the Isle of Man!

As mentioned ...
...isn't. To reach the Isle of Man, I would need to drive from my far south east corner of England in Kent, all the way to the northwest in Lancashire (or thereabouts) and then, catch a ferry across part of the Irish Sea to the Isle. I just knew that I probably would never get around to it, but still held the dream that one day I would visit.

****** The booking ******

Last January, on scanning my local Kent Messenger newspaper, ... more

Warning: This is a rather long review, so please make sure you have a drink and snack to keep you sustained whilst reading!

A Jewel in the Irish Sea
Is known as Ellan Vannin

Although throughout the mists of time
The place was called Mannannin

Mann is yet another name
Bestowed on Mona's Isle

And some will call it Mannin
If you listen for a while.

I find it all confusing
So please tell me if you can,

Why all these names are needed,
Why not just the Isle of Man?

Dennis W Turner

***** In the beginning *****

A few years ago in the cinema, I fell in love with the countryside on the film of Waking Ned (Devine). The story was set in Ireland, but on buying the DVD some time later, I discovered that the film was not made in Ireland, but on the Isle of Man. This set me on a quest to visit the Isle of Man!

As mentioned on other reviews, I am a driver, but my partner isn't. To reach the Isle of Man, I would need to drive from my far south east corner of England in Kent, all the way to the northwest in Lancashire (or thereabouts) and then, catch a ferry across part of the Irish Sea to the Isle. I just knew that I probably would never get around to it, but still held the dream that one day I would visit.

****** The booking ******

Last January, on scanning my local Kent Messenger newspaper, I saw an advert from Newmarket Travel offering a four day excursion to the very Isle, and at the reasonable cost of £498.00 for the two of us. This price included all the travel, including the ferry. It paid for the three star accommodation hotel (Port Erin Royal), with ensuite double room, and breakfast and evening meal (which were very hearty!). There was also 'entertainment' (I use that word loosely) on two nights. Each room having TV and tea/coffee making facilities. Divided between the two of us, that wasn't bad and we had 9 months to save up for it. A booking was made!
(details: The Newmarket Group, McMillan House, Worcester Park, Surrey KT4 8RQ. 0845 226 7743 to check out other offers).

The booking was done very easily over the phone with a friendly and helpful operator. I paid a small deposit in January, and was sent a confirmation asking for the balance to be paid no later than two weeks before the holiday date.

Summer 2005 came and went, and then seemed to come back again with a lovely hot spell of weather. This carried on to the 7th October which was the day of travel.

***** The journey there *****

Orlando and Oldgoth got up at 4am, got ready with case packed and walked down to the town centre where the coach was picking us up at 5.30am.

We were booked on the 2.30pm ferry 'Ben-my-chree', part of the 'Steam Packet Company' from Heysham and arrived with only a few minutes to spare. Brian dashed into the office and got us booked in, and Kirk was guided by the port staff into the terminal. But we got stuck. The coach was too tall for that part of the terminus, but the port staff hadn't realised, and so the roof above my head grated along the old, corrugated iron roofing.

After much grinding of metal on metal, we were reversed perilously back down a ramp and out of the terminus, and redirected to the lorry entry. Onto the ferry, and out into the Irish Sea, we arrived at Douglas at 6.15pm and Kirk drove us to the Port Erin Royal hotel, facing Port Erin harbour.

***** Settling in *****

The hotel was comfortable, and fairly quaint with an olde worlde touch. It appeared to have had its hey day several decades ago, but the staff could not be faulted and they seemed to have shipped in several extras from the local 'hospitality college' down the road. We had a very structured time in the hotel, with meals to be eaten dead on the dot, and we had to sit in the same place at every meal. I again had a feeling of being in a residential setting - I visit care homes on a regular basis, so this probably had an affect on my bearings. But it was a giggle.

Friday night, the poster in the lobby said that Brendan MacLaughlan would be entertaining us after our meal. When I asked the hotel manager about Brendan, he looked rather shocked, and said that he presumed we would too tired to have entertainment on our first night, surely? Brendan had been cancelled.

We ventured out and sampled the local night life, and found a decent pub across the other side of the harbour, which had a band playing and was frequented by just about the whole population of Port Erin! Lovely atmosphere and a decent Manx brew, too!

***** The schedule *****

Saturday, and breakfast was at 8 o'clock sharp, for the coach to take us out at 9am.

It was a beautiful sunny morning, and we set off on the coach, with a lovely elderly gentleman who had arrived in time for our departure. He had been born on the Island, and had lived there all of his life, and there was nothing he didn't know about the place.

He told us about the history of every house and road as we drove, at speed, around the country roads. He knew the politics and was quite candid in sharing his own politics with his coach audience. He really made my trip, as his accent was gentle and I just couldn't place exactly which part of the UK his accent had been influenced by the most. It sounded like a rolling west country, combined with Scottish and Irish. But then again, not completely, so definitely the Manx have an accent of their own.

The coach stopped at Peel on the West coast, but we were not able to get out as the itinerary didn't allow for time there. There seemed to be a wonderful castle which I wanted to explore, but not to be. Apparently, there is a ghost in this castle called Moddey Dhoo, so that would be worth investigating.

There were also kipper sheds of which I have recently heard so much about by another Ciao member, but alas again, I was not able to get out and check them out. The sea was an azure blue and very calm as it faced over to main land Ireland Peel is apparently one of the oldest cathedral city in Britain with the ruins of St German's cathedral (founded in 1226) on the seven acre site of St Patricks Isle, the birthplace of Manx Christianity.

Next stop was an old house called 'Grove House', owned by the Gibb family. Back in the 1700's, the Gibb family moved there are the father was worried about the disease in Liverpool. It had been originally just been a holiday home, but the family made the area their home and it was in their ownership until about 1970 when the two elderly, maiden sisters passed away. The result was a house left in a manner resembling a museum, and it was very well looked after. I was mildly interested, but felt that I would have preferred to spend time at the castle in Peel, but never mind. Attached to the house was a conservatory, and they did a very mean Carrot Cake and cup of tea, so I was well away.

The Lady Isabella Wheel, commonly called the Laxey Wheel came next, at Laxey (Laxaa) which is halfway down the East coast of the island. This was a mine, and the wheel was powered by water collected in a reservoir from the mountain of snaefell. Very colourful, and bright red, it was an excellent school trip venue, and yes, there were lots of kids looking and climbing up the tower to get a good view of the workings. This wheel was restored and celebrated its 150th anniversary. It was built to bring the water up from the mine to enable the ore to be mined unhindered.

I declined the climb up the wooden steps, but chose to walk up a hill and watch the water reservoir being fed to the wheel. I love this type of engineering, I reckon I missed my vocation!

Last stop of the day was at Ramsey, a bustling harbour town, with plenty of shops, and several pubs! We found a pub and sampled the local brew from Bushey's which slipped down easily. Another brew we sampled was O'Kells, Mac Lir, a wheat beer of 4.4% alcohol. The pubs had an old fashioned quality, like locals do

Back to the hotel, and again, meal would be served at 8pm. We took the opportunity to have a walk along the front of Port Erin, original Manx name Purt Chiarn, and have an Manx ice-cream, made from manx cream which was delicious.

The Isle of Man seems to have mainly dairy and sheep farms, but not really any arable land. They are a very proud island, and keen to promote their products to the visitors. We bought some Manx cheese, a normal cheddar, also an extremely 'mature' cheddar, and a garlic and chive cheddar. This is promoted by 'Cheese of The Isle of Man' and there is the familiar emblem on the label.

Other products include Manx Spirit. This is a whiskey based spirit, which is made from Scotch. Originally, this was called Manx Whiskey, but there was a law suit in the 1970's and the brewery had to change the name. It used to be made from whiskey which was shipped over from Scotland, then had all the impurities taken out. The blend became clear, and the Manx put their own name to it. Unfortunately, the Scottish brewers felt that this was hijacking their spirit and hence the law suit. Scotland won, and Manx Spirit was born.

Back on the coach and off to our hotel for dinner. The meal was decent, and it was followed by a Liverpudlian lass called Anita T! Good old Anita could thump out a song with the help of her keyboard and what seemed like a Karaoke machine. She invited the assembled coach load to join in with singing and also, with doing a dance which I thought I had never heard of, 'The Slosh'. Whilst watching some locals and some of my travel companions getting up on the dance floor, I suddenly recognised the line dance. I recognised the touching the knee, touching the toe etc, from my stay at Pontins in the mid 1980's and from the various wedding receptions that I had attended in the late 1970's in London, always done by 'Aunties'. Bizarrely, I had never realised that it was a well known dance, and suppose it had just never arrived in Kent - or maybe I moved in different circles, who knows!

Anita was such a star, that we purchased her CD. She did have something of a hoarse Lulu quality, and I will always remember her giggling through her singing, and chatting to her audience during such wonderments as 'Yes, I'm a great pretender, ooooohh oooooohh'. I have played this since coming back home, and it still makes me smile.

Sunday.
Day of rest? No chance. Up with the lark, and a very blustery morning it was too! We were driven in the coach to Cregneash Village Folk Museum. This was the place where the church that featured in Waking Ned was. The village is partially inhabited, and partially houses as museums. There is a local hero called Harry Kelly who lived in one of the houses which had a thatched roof. It has a dried earth floor and consisted of just two rooms and an open attic. Very quaint, Americans would love it!

There was a slightly more modern house, but still fairly basic, and this one had a range for cooking, an upstairs floor and a woman dressed in old fashioned garb just to get the message across. Whilst there, I found a business card for someone who teaches the Manx language. His name was Adrian Cain, and lives in Port St Mary or, Purt le Moirrey if you speak the lingo! (I can almost speak it word perfect as I bought a little book called 'pocket Manx' but if you believe that, you'll believe anything!).

Another little gem that I found somewhere along the way, was a leaflet about a particular Manx patchwork design, called Roof Pattern. I have an interest in patchwork but I have not been able to make any for several years, but I still like these old crafts. The leaflet was printed by the Manx National Heritage, who hold demonstrations of the traditional crafts associated with 19th Century farming and croft life throughout the summer. I can't find a website, but I am sure it could be googled if necessary!

Moving on from Cregneash Village, we went and spent some time looking at the Sound, off the southern tip of the Island. This was very rugged and was a slate cliff, leading down to fairly treacherous waters below. Seals were easily visible from the cliff's edge, but also very camouflaged with the grey terrain.

Across the Sound was the 'Calf of Man', a small island which is uninhabited. The small islet is apparently 616 acres, and consists of a nature reserve and bird sanctuary.

We then were coached off to Castletown, the original capital of the Isle of Man, and we were left to explore the town for a few hours before being driven back to the hotel. The unfortunate thing was that Castletown was 'shut'. There was nowhere to eat and all the shops were shut. The castlw appeared to be shut also, so we ended up spending most of the afternoon sitting in a rather trendy, but (in my humble opinion) pretentious tapas bar called Garrison. Having said that, they did find us a table despite being fairly full, and were friendly enough when we started ordering a decent amount of food and drink!

In retrospect, I really think the itinerary should have been swapped around so Saturdays trip which was spent mainly in the coach could have been on Sunday when everywhere was shut (and rainy). Saturday would have been much better to have visited Castletown. The day was finished off with a return journey through Douglas (Doolish) which was named after the two rivers which meet at that point,

Back to the hotel, and again there were drinks in the bar, overlooking the beautiful sunsets, and then seated for dinner at 8pm sharp. After a good meal, we had some more entertainment - a Manx Mans Choir (they did have a name, but it has now escaped me). We didn't stay long, not because they were bad singers, but just because we were bad listeners! We preferred to sit in the bar for a bit and then retire to our room to pack for Monday's early start homewards at 7am.

***** The ending******

We had a very bouncy trip back across the Irish Sea, but I had taken my Joyrides and fell asleep for most of it, being lulled like in a rocking chair. It was a mighty long journey back down to Kent, which had to include the stopping off points along the way.

****** Additional thoughts *****

I really feel that the Isle of Man tourist board should do more to advertise their island. When talking about visiting the Isle, all anyone said was 'Is it the weekend for the TT racing??'. Or 'Will you get a Manx cat?'.

Actually, there is so much more to the island, with spectacular views, beautiful sandy beaches. I didn't get the feel for what would be there for young children, but then, I was on the coach for the most part so couldn't explore this over the weekend. There were certainly parties of school children on the island, so presumably there were having excursions.

Also, I wasn't aware that the Isle of Man is not actually part of the United Kingdom, but a 'protectorate'. They have their own government and some differing laws from the UK. They have the same monetary system, and the same coinage, but there are still £1 notes, and the coinage has a different pattern on the back. I was able to use the UK money over there, but was warned that I wouldn't be able to use Manx money back home.

So, the TT races. Well, the Manx find this a double edged sword. Much as they enjoy the tourism that it brings, it also brings pollution, disruption, and also some death - the toll for the 2005 season was 8 deaths. This does cause some distress for the locals who would prefer to think that all the people involved in the Touring Trophy race, returned home in one piece!

Manx cats. Nothing so very unusual and unique there when investigated. Apparently, a mutation kitten was taken over to the island, who then had several litters, some of whom were appendagely challenged! These mutations then bred with each other and created a rash of tail-less moggies. These are beginning to be out bred now, though, and in particular as visitors from abroad tend to take the Manx kittens home, leaving the mogs who are fully tailed.

The Manx people are not totally sure where the Manx symbol of the three legs came from, but think it came from Scandinavia with the first peoples who inhabited the island. The locals like to think that the symbol shows that any way the legs are thrown, they will always be able to run. Fair enough!

I would definitely recommend a visit to the Isle of Man. I plan to return in my own time, during the summer months with time to really explore the places that I was given a taster of during this weekend coach trip.

Just to finish, here is another poem by Dennis. W. Turner taken from 'Manx Myths and More…'

Finn Mac Cuill

The Irish Giant, Finn Mac Cuill,
Saw opposition to his rule
When he observed his enemy
Approaching down the Irish Sea.
The red haired Scottish giant strode
Towards the isle of Finn's abode
But Finn was quite prepared to show
That he was stronger than his foe.

The fight began and bold Finn gave
No quarter to the Scottish knave
Who came off worst in the affray
And seized his chance to run away.
But as the Scottish giant fled
Finn flung large boulders at his head.
Then scooped a clump of Irish clay,
(Lough Neagh fills the hole today).

He hurled the clump with all his might
Towards the giant in full flight
The clod fell short and came to be
An island in the Irish sea.
The Isle was carved by wind and waves
With sandy shores and rocky caves;
The land stood firm and thus began
The story of the Isle of Man.

Thanks for reading!
Orlando, 2005.
 

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