Sunday 10^th april

We didn’t need the car today as we could start from Port Erin amalgamating 2 routes centred around the Port and also Castletown, which would have been 2 separate 21 miles of moderate to easy riding. Instead it made one ride of 21 miles made hard by the weather.

By the time we left it was really cold and the sunshine of early on, tempting us, out had disappeared. We set off past Bradda Head, straight and up, turning right by the houses and into a 24 mile per hour head wind. We seemed to only make 5 miles an hour as we slowly pushed through Colby and Ballabeg. We could hear the steam engine but no glimpse this morning.  

It was more or less a straight road all the way to Rushen Abbey, where we stopped for a break from the wind. There was no café but a drinks dispenser and seats to sit on in reception. We thought this a very child centred place and many of the hands on exhibits were amusing us too, particularly the last electronic game involving reflex action and strawberries. This is a place with a chequered history and in the 1940s strawberry jam was manufactured here as a cottage industry.

An abbey had been here since King Olaf, a Christian Viking gave the land up in the 12^th century. It was given to the Savignac monks from Furness Abbey and later came under Cistercian rule. It would have been the centre of knowledge and literacy for the Isle of Man until the abbey was dissolved in the 16^th century.

In the 1800s it became a school for young ladies after a period of it being a private residence. It was a tourist destination for cream teas and also later a disco venue. It was purchased by Manx National Heritage. Archaeological digs have revealed much of its early history and the pretty grounds are good for family picnics. We could have stayed longer.

We rode on to Castleton, past the airport on the only bit of dual carriageway we’ve noticed. We parked by the old Crosse, which has no cross now. Apparently a mother and son were burnt here for practising witchcraft. The streets are quite narrow and higgledy- piggledy.  A sign advertised a café at the Bowling green but it proved hard to find. Most cafes were shut it being Sunday. There was access at a small car park but we didn’t see it leading anywhere. Later down the main street we found another road which had a sign for the same place leading to a portacabin, that had plenty of customers eating breakfast and us, jacket potatoes.

 

After warming up we visited medieval Castle Rushen. This was a great place. Once the administrative centre and capital of the island from the original limestone keep from the 12^th and 13^th century it was developed in the 14^th century to its present glorious state, fairly intact, solid and lofty. The rooms are mostly empty but there are humorous and interesting touches around. A voice asks who goes there as you enter, a soldier sits on a privy muttering, there is replica food laid out on tables and a fire burns in the kitchen. Guides are there to answer questions. We could see Snaefell from the top of the battlements and a spiral staircase takes you through the floors with rooms to visit as you progress up. We were told the East wind of today is unusual and it howled eerily around the outside, though some rooms were heated from pipes from above. I learnt that in the 17^th century a banquet was the sweet sugared intricate delicacies, befitting Master Chef, that finish the meal and not a feast as I thought.

We left Casteltown via a back road by the swimming pool then passed the A23 junction and then the next left which looked unlikely and more like a farm track. This was lovely, though fairly rough, and took us down to the sea. There was a gull fest at the water’s edge where the sea weed gathered flies. Sandpipers, oystercatchers, shell ducks and mallards all joined in.

Not far from here we had a beer in the Shore pub, thinking maybe we would eat here later. We enjoyed chatting with a man from Colby who went to Manchester University. Although quite elderly he likes to walk 5 or 6 miles a day and then, in his words, spoils it all by having a drink or 2 in a pub.

Bob liked the beer barrel urinals and pump handles for flushing. He took a picture so I could see! We decided the meals were too expensive to come back for and set off through St Mary’s and on to top road back to Port Erin.

Madly we took a bus back to Castletown later in the evening. It cost £3.50 return and the buses didn’t correspond at all to the timetable but then we didn’t have to wait either. There was nothing in the town open for food though except an Italian Restaurant. Bob remembered a pub called the Viking a little way out, near the steam train station and it only turned out to be a 10 minute walk away via harbour bridges. We could see sand bags and boarding to go in front of the doors of houses near the harbour. They had bad floods on the Island in the autumn.

The Viking provided real ale and a roast dinner perhaps not worth the extra it cost for the bus fare but the sky, light till 9 and streaked with purples, orange and slate grey gave a good show and it was nice to just sit and relax on the journey.