Isle of Man

I had three days off work and eager to get another stamp from a Cathedral for my book, I took the opportunity to visit the Isle of Man, a place I’ve never been.

A couple of weeks ago the catamaran and hotel were booked for Douglas, the Capitol of the island. However, turns out the cathedral is on the other side of the island in Peel. DOH!

At 1030 we followed the procession of foot passengers aboard while loads of motor cyclists filled the vehicle deck. I thought the TT was over months ago? Turns out there is another race called the ‘Manx Grand Prix’. And this week is the practice trials before it begins at the weekend.

Shortly after 1115 the boat begin its voyage to the little island in the Irish Sea, and once out in the open water, this thing shifted. Standing at the stern, it was impressive seeing the water jets streaming out; effectively it’s a giant jet ski.

Three hours later we were off the boat and queuing for the bus to Peel. The idea being, get to the cathedral, get the stamp have a look around and return to Douglas. This way the next day can be spent seeing the sights.

Passing the small villages and the countryside reminded me much of the Lake District and Cumbria. We arrived at the cathedral just before evensong.

A very small congregation had assembled and feeling they needed a boost in numbers, I took a hymn book and joined in. After the 30 min sing song, we were invited for a cup of tea with the Dean; hadn’t foreseen I’ll be having tea the upper echelons of the Isle of Man clergy!

The cathedral had only recently just opened after spending a year under renovation. All the pews had been removed in favour of chairs that can be stored away, so the building can hold concerts, Pilates and exhibitions. A financial decision to keep the building open.

After obtaining my stamp, it was the bus ride back to Douglas, to book into the hotel and find somewhere to eat. Most of places were closed, however the ‘1886 bar and grill’ was open, where the food arrived by a robot!

Hunger sated, a walk along the promenade was in order. Very little activity in the town, not what I expected. The place had a feeling it was 30 years behind, when everything used to be closed on Sundays.

After a couple of pints in an Irish pub, enjoying a local IPA, it was time for bed.

The rain had settled in for the day, apparently it’s the tail end of a hurricane from the Caribbean that had moved across the Atlantic. I hadn’t brought a rain coat, thinking my umbrella would suffice. A quick call into Mountain Warehouse and I picked up a coat in the sale.

With the weather not playing, a trip to Port Erin was on the cards. It is by steam train, the line operating from old network; it connects the villages between Douglas and Port Erin. I shared a cabin with a local who lives in Santon; A small hamlet with little amenities.

She had come into Douglas to do a food shop, and was on her way back home. There is something magical with the steam train still being the public mode of transport and not just a tourist attraction; it’s an island locked in time.

With only an hour before the next train, there was time for a walk to the harbour and a pint in a pub on the waterfront. The weather took a turn for the worse on the return trip to Douglas.

When the train rolled in, it was very wet and dashing to the nearest pub was our only refuge from the drizzle. Trying to get an authentic Manx Kipper bap, we headed to a chippy along the promenade, recommended by a Google search.

The wind had picked up and the drizzle was driving in horizontally. The sea was grey and clouds angry. Just hoped it would subside in morning for the ferry back to Liverpool; it would be a turn of events if it got cancelled!

We huddled in the small chippy, only to find, despite Google promising, they didn’t do the infamous kipper bap. It seems this Manx delicacy is more popular on the west coast.

The skies brightened up allowing a window to walk back to the town centre for pint in a warm cozy pub.

An early start in the morning as the ferry left 0730h. The skies were clear and no hint of wind, however the horizon it looked brooding.

But it remained smooth sailing all the way into Liverpool, concluding my Isle of Man adventure.