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Travel StoriesIsle Of Man 2014
Isle Of Man - The South Side
By Ren Withnell
Last night I worked out how to close the blind on the Velux window, so this morning it's still pitch dark in the bedroom. I hoped this would mean I'd sleep longer which would mean less waiting around for everyone else to get up. No such luck. I'm still up at 0600. I do discover that the TV has Sky so I watch some cheesy American Docu-Drama about truckers and an interesting historical lesson about the Vikings. Signs of life from the gf don't come until after 0800.
After doing "the north" yesterday today we will do "the south". I'm in less of a rush because I've realised that nowhere is far away so it doesn't take long to get there. I just want to get going because I'm bored now. I huff and puff as the gf gets breakfast and decides what clothes to wear - under her bike gear. At least the sun is shining and unlike yesterday there's a lot less morning mist.
It's not a bad start to the day today. Will the bike hold up?
Finally we head out and back towards Peel. This road is becoming familiar already, past the padded trees, around the padded wall, off the TT circuit to the Tynwald Hill and into Peel. I wend my way through the centre looking for the A27. There's a thing I've noticed on the Island, the sign posts are very much hit and miss. In the UK and all around Europe it's not uncommon to be following signs, only to be left stranded at a junction without any indication of your next move. It's very frustrating. The Isle Of Man is making an art form out of this though. I can see by the sun that I'm heading south so I must by definition be going in the right direction. I turn onto another lane out of town, this must be right as there's a sign for Dalby.
This is 250 territory. The small lane undulates and twists along the coast, overlooking the sea from above. I ride slowly, maybe 20 to 25 mph so we can both take in the scenery. I stop occasionally to let a car past although the road is quiet. There's a mist out to sea and it is rural, pretty and peaceful here. I spot a sign for Niarbyl and follow it for no reason. Down the lane is a visitor centre, no thanks, past this the single track lane drops steeply enough to make my heart race and focus my mind. Aha! It's the Midlands guy again on his VStrom 650, we don't stop we wave as I roll down and he powers up the incline. At the bottom we find an ancient thatched cottage, a out of place chalet, a rusting tractor with boat trailer and a deserted rocky shoreline. I do like finding these curious little nooks and crannies.
The steep lane and mist out to sea.
I'm guessing fisherman's cottages on the shoreline at Niarbyl.
After clawing our way back out of the cove I get us back onto the A27 toward Port Erin. The A27 joins the A36 and this is more like a main road in the countryside. There's just a tiny bit more traffic now so I have to up my pace to avoid becoming a mobile chicane. This is fun. I up the pace a bit more, wohoo! A twist, a corner, over the crest and carve the next bend. Playtime. I'm up and down through the gears, sweeping around the bends and having a ball. The road is good, the tarmac warm and grippy and I don't need to worry about the speed limit! That said if I were on the mainland I'd still not need to worry about the speed limit on the 250. Come on Ren, who cares, this CBF is handling like a brand new sports bike, I might not blast the straights but the corners are as fast as fast can be.
Regrettably Port Erin's 30 zone comes up all to quickly. I'm still buzzing as I anchor on, fearful of finding a radar gun pointing at me. I needn't have worried but that's not the point, these streets are someone's home and I'm sure they don't want to be dodging lunatic bikers at silly speeds. I return to tourist mode and take in the small coastal town. A handful of Victorian hotels mixed in with modern apartment blocks look down over the bay to the north while the beach is in the south part of the cove. As the sun beats down we stop on the promenade near a cafe. It's quiet, just a few cars, one family on the beach and inside the cafe just two other customers. We order drinks, the price is always too much but not disastrous.
It could be Spain in this sunshine.
I'm expecting to do what we do next. We find a spot on the almost empty beach, strip off and sunbathe! Using the bike jackets and pants as beach towels we lie there, being normal in the warm sea breeze. I manage to stay still for 5, maybe 6 minutes before I'm bored. I hassle the gf for a while longer, take a walk down to the water, wade in up to my knees, walk back, spend some time drying off and then decide I'm really bored now. I dig a hole in the sand, wish my phone had an internet connection, dig some more and after a whole 45 minutes the gf gives up trying to relax and we kit up. There's sand in our pockets, our boots, our pants and our jackets. Damn. We both agree we like Port Erin. It is small, pretty, has a great little beach and it feels welcoming.
We're stuggling to find space on the bustling beach.
Everyone and the brochures assure us of a great wildlife experience at Sound, the southern tip of the Isle Of Man. There's another visitor's centre with cafe, a car park, cliffs, rocky shoreline, the Calf of Man and a rocky island. There's massive ships far out to sea, the current is ripping through the channel, tourists aplenty and apart from a few seagulls there's no wildlife whatsoever. No basking sharks out to sea, no seals honking on the rocky shoreline and no dolphins playing in the waves. It must be our fault, Dad saw plenty.
The Calf Of Man at Sound. Pretty but for us no seals or sharks.
Port St Mary is very much in the same vein as Port Erin but larger. To be fair we don't give it a chance, the main road in the centre is closed for repair and we've already done the beach thing so we pass through rather than take a proper look. Sorry Port St Mary.
Castletown is larger still. It's all relative though, it's not like Blackpool, not by a long shot, it's just a small coastal port with a few extra shops, a high school and an airport that I wouldn't know is there if I'd not seen a plane coming in. I find a parking space in the town square, which isn't square, and a Co-op, it must be lunchtime. Rather than spend a ransom in the cafes we're happy with another Co-op meal deal and we take up residence on a bench. There's a column in the square, 30 or 40 feet tall to commemorate some council leader from the 1800's. What the gf points out as strange is there's nothing on top. No statue, no rampant horse or solemn knight. Perhaps it's gone for cleaning?
It's definitley not Blackpool.
An older yet perky, stylish and lively couple arrive on 2 scooters. He's on the 500 Yamaha super scoot, she's on a 300 Piaggio. Neither is wearing bike gear, preferring slacks, sandals, blouse or shirt and open face helmets. They look quite European, I feel like I'm back in Southern France or Spain especially in the warm sun. While she nips off to the shops he is happy to espouse his love of the scoots. He uses the big Yam to go to Spain several times a year. I picture him on the motorways with a rucksack and flip flops.
After a pee stop and a short walk around the harbour we get back on the bike. Yeah, again we both agree that it's another nice place. It's all been very positive this trip so far, it is a lovely place the Isle Of Man. I can't help but wonder how we'd both feel if it was lashing it down, windy and cold. We wend our way back to the cottage and in the heat of the day it's good to get out of the bike gear and chill. Dad arrives later on and between us we create some food for tea.
There is one place we've missed in our trip around "the south" and that's the Fairy Bridge. I don't know how or why it started but this is the place where it seems many bikers like to place pictures, notes, trinkets and random items in memory of the dead. I know of this place as couple of years back a young lady in our bike club was killed on the roads and several friends have placed items there. As the island is so small after tea in the cool evening air we kit up again and ride back towards Castletown on the A5.
I spot the bridge and whizz past it as I'm moving down the road at 55 mph. I was expecting a quiet country lane and a tranquil spot, what I fly by is a tiny flat bridge on what is a busy road for the Isle Of Man. I finally find somewhere safe to turn around and slowly approach.
Now you can call me over-cautious, you can call me dull and you can call me cynical but the first thing that comes to mind is the irony of choosing such a dangerous place to commemorate the loss of so many bikers. There's nowhere to park safely, not even a narrow motorcycle, I pass 100 yards by and park in a side road. We cross the road and walk to a tree filled with so many things it befuddles my mind. There's both a sense of sadness and celebration of the lives lived and lost. I find things like this make me feel determined to have as much fun as I can because there's only one possible outcome from life. A car whooshes past us closely, blimey! This isn't a safe place to be.
This is the fairy bridge. On a big fast road.
Remembering those no longer with us. Be sure to acknowledge and thank the fairies too.
My friend RG has lent me a map that includes his own position of "The Real Fairy Bridge". I don't know what this means but it's just up the road so I decide to go and have a look. The only thing is I can't find the road and without service on my mobile I can't use my mapping app to help. It's getting late so I give up and we head back to the cottage.
It's been another great day. I talk with the gf about the Isle Of Man, the question is could I or we live here? Of course the houses are far too expensive for us commoners but what if we took that out of the equation? It's a lovely place filled with pretty little towns, remote coves, rolling hills and even a mountain. It has a relaxed and friendly feeling. Motorcycles seem to be a feature of the island and not a tolerated nuisance. For sure we are liking it here. There is a BUT. But it's small, so small, too small. After 2 days we've covered the basics of the isle. After a week I reckon you could have ridden almost every road. After a year you will definitely have run out of places to explore. We love it and we'd love to come back, I don't think we could live here.
Bedtime.
Into The Isle Of Man
The first day of our Isle Of Man break. We sail the Irish Sea, search Douglas and walk around Peel
Isle Of Man - The North Side
Today we look around the northern part of the Isle Of Man. Jurby Junk, Point Of Ayre, The TT Circuit and The Bunglalow.
Isle Of Man - The South Side
This time we explore the southern side of the Isle Of Man. Beautiful sea views, slow riding, fast riding, sunbathing and harbours. It's all here you know.
A Final Poke Around The Isle Of Man
We take a mooch around the Isle Of Man to find sheep tracks, steep switchbacks, a non magnetic hill and ice cream.
Final Day And Thoughts - Isle Of Man
The return trip from the Isle Of Man and Ren's thoughts about the place.
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Travel StoriesIsle Of Man 2014