Report - 12 June 2006

Port St Mary - 11 to 14 June 2006 (day 22-25)

Yacht Gothik

At Anchor

Port Saint Mary Harbour

Isle of Man

12 June 2006

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Logged distance: 77M

Chart distance: 70M

Time under way: 12h 35m

Sunday 11 June 2006

Another day of relaxation as we waited for the time to pass for a late evening departure. The wind had picked up yesterday, which was expected. What was not really expected was for it to continue today. For a while it looked like our departure to the Isle of Man would have to be postponed. After dinner however things calmed down significantly and we set out in an easy wind at around nine-thirty. By dark the wind had picked up and we took a single reef in the main to make things easier for the night watches.

Monday 12 June 2006

The weather reports were a little ambiguous - the Irish coastguard was issuing strong wind warnings while the English coastguard was reporting nothing untoward. Around half one in the morning I had to awake poor Ben and Keith early before their watch so as to reduce sail. It looked like the Irish were right. It had been blowing hard for an hour and a half; force 6 with occasional gusts of 7. Gothik had managed admirably but an additional reef in the main eased the strain on the rig and made the helm easy - all was grace once again.

By eight o' clock the wind had dropped to a force 3 and by nine thirty we had to put the engine on. It was a cold, grey and damp morning. Visibility was poor but the Isle of Man was now in our sights, shrouded by a bank of cloud. The Vikings had a sea god, Manannan, after which the island is named. It was said that Manannan would protect the island from attack by lowering a cloud of mist over it - he was obviously not too worried by us as the cloud began to lift on our final approach to Port St Mary. Ten thirty and we had safely tied up to a mooring.

Although now there was no wind, the swell from last nights blow was still very much in force. It swept around the breakwater and into the harbour. We rolled around like - I don't know - but we rolled around. It was like being at sea. I had left the option open, of which harbour we would pull into, until we were about 5 miles from the south western tip of the island. None of the harbours on the Isle of Man are sheltered from all wind and sea directions. Port St Mary is somewhat exposed to south and south easterlies and that is what we had just experienced. The forecast however was for the wind out at see to veer and strengthen which would mean Port St Mary, while uncomfortable, was the safer place to be.

The discomfort did not bother us, in fact we joked about it at first and settled down for a few hours kip. By dinner time the joke was on us; dinner and drinks slid across the table. We didn't have enough hands to hold onto cutlery, plates and glasses all at the same time. It is difficult to describe what it's like. I'm sure you've all heard that every seventh wave is supposedly bigger than the previous six - if you've ever tried to count them you probably know that it never works out quite like this. There would appear to be some regularity but not quite. When on a mooring, rolling around in the barrel so to speak, a lull would happen - like the seventh wave. You would get used it being periodic, let go of more than one thing and whoops, dinner would be on the floor.

We went to bed that night wondering if it would ever improve - but I was confident.

Tuesday 13 June 2006

The weather forecast had been correct. The wind now came from a shade north of west; Port St Mary harbour was like a millpond. I'm glad we hadn't opted to pull into Port Erin which now surely must be experiencing conditions worse than here yesterday.

After inflating the dingy, we made the run ashore and paid a visit to a very amiable harbour master who plied us with tourist guides, bus timetables, train timetables and pamphlets on various ports on the island. Once again there was no interest in clearing us through customs - not that I minded. From past experience it involved laboriously writing by hand, in triplicate, details of the boat and the crew on board (full names, addresses, passport numbers, etc) by hand in triplicate. Yes, in triplicate and by hand. When in Boulogne the response was that customs were all on holiday (it was a Thursday); the Scillies looked at, but ignored, the 'Q' flag we proudly flew (an all yellow signaling flag meaning 'My vessel is healthy and I request free pratique'); in Eire the lady in the office continued to look at the form she was filling out and just waved a hand; now in the Isle of Man there was a slight pause in the flow of conversation... I paused in triplicate and that was that, I was presented with another bus timetable.

Following a few recommendations from an old work colleague we took a stroll up and out of Port St Mary taking a pretty route to Port Erin via the coast and hillsides. The two towns cannot be more than mile or so apart but are on opposite sides of the island. Both towns seemed very sleepy, almost backward, the shops were a flash from the past. It was evident the fashions had reached dizzying heights of sophistication.

Feeling peckish we ventured into a cafe, it really was a seaside cafe from childhood - plastic buckets and spades, sweets, tea-towels, badges, jokes, jigsaw puzzles, homemade cakes and lots of tat. There were signs everywhere. Most telling you what you could not do but a few making sure you knew what you must do. I especially liked a sign (high up so no child could read it) saying "No ice cream cones or lollies beyond this point" - so half the shop was an ice-cream and ice-lolly free zone while the other half was not?! A rather officious lady came to serve us, or rather we ordered and (as directed by a sign) picked up our tea from the counter and were then waited on with food. The lady softened her tone after we had paid and light conversation began. She must have had a busy time of it last week - it being the 'TT' races and all.

Next stop was the Bay View Hotel for a pint of 'Busheys', the local brew. It was interesting but we were a little too full from brunch to really enjoy it. Then on to the post office for postcard stamps - closed for lunch! How civilised. With time to kill I tried to find a barber. There were plenty to choose from, all large places with lots of chrome, many seats and only one customer - alas, they were all fully booked... but "if you come back next week".

We took the short route back to Port St Mary. Still trying to get a haircut I found three places, but again, all booked. It looks like I will be staying shaggy for the foreseeable future. We were also keeping our eyes peeled for a fishing tackle shop and eventually found one but it had been closed down for some time. In fact there were many other shops that were boarded up or empty. Both Port Erin and Port St Mary had a sad feel to them. Better times were in the past perhaps. After a few enquiries it seemed we would need to go back to Port Erin for fishing tackle or make a trip to Douglas, the main town on the island. Maybe tomorrow.

Wednesday 14 June 2006

Douglas had not come recommended as a place to visit but it seemed a good idea to do some more exploring. The two small towns we had seen (even if empty) were pretty and the countryside inviting. The Isle of Man must have more to offer than closed down shops.

It was a hot sunny day. Making an early start we walked once again to Port Erin but no tackle shop. It had closed down due to an increase in rent. The proprietor was looking for a suitable place to relocate his shop. So much empty property and yet rent is on the increase - very strange. To Douglas then.

We purchased tickets for the narrow gauge steam railway that winds its way to Douglas from Port Erin. It passes mostly inland but occasionally hugs the south coast. The railways on the Isle of Man are said to have been influential to the Rev. W Audrey and his 'Thomas the Tank Engine' stories. When stepping on to the platform one can see why, everything fits the illustrations. From the engine and coaches to the countryside beyond.

The train ride, all one hour of it, was an absolute pleasure. We stopped at various stations along route, all well maintained with stone buildings and white picket fences. The whistle blew, the engine chuffed and puffs of smoke trailed along through the hedgerows, under bridges and across the green fields full of sheep and cows. The sun shone. We really were in a bedtime story.

The bedtime story ended when we reached Douglas. It was a bit of a dump but it was bustling. After much asking we found our tackle shop. We are not fisherman and the poor salesman seemed a little bewildered with us at first. We bombarded him with questions hastily seeking advice. He could have used our ignorance and sold us anything - I was ready to buy the shop - instead he seemed reluctant to part with his stock. He soon came round to our honest desire to catch something and we left feeling sure we had the necessary bits and bobs.

The time had passed a little too quickly in the shop. It was now a matter of walking very fast for a mile and a half to the next station to catch another train. This was not a steam train but the 'Manx Electric Railway' (almost as old); a set of tram like trains that run from Douglas to Ramsey. The idea was to hop off early at Laxey, home of the famous 'Laxey Wheel'. As Keith said of the trip, "it's like being at the fair ground but we're going somewhere". A rickety ride in an open sided coach.

The station at Laxey had a lot going on. There were 'electric' trains coming and going with many people hoping off and hopping on. Happily there was a convenient pub to sit outside and watch the activity.

Refreshed we decided to catch another train to the highest point on the island; Snaefell at just over 2000 feet above sea level. The fare was not cheap but the weather was perfect and it seemed a fitting way to continue our day. We joked that the fare should only be applied one way since no power, just brakes, was needed for the descent. It took a long while to get to the top, the electric motor straining every inch of the way, but it was a pleasant journey and the view of the island breathtaking. A clear unobstructed view of the sea nearly all the way around. From the top we could see Scotland, England, Wales and Ireland.

Time was getting on by the time we got back to Laxey. The Laxey Wheel had just closed but there was still a close enough view to be had from the admission kiosk. The wheel was built in the 19th century to pump water out of the lead and zinc mine near by. As with most things on the island it was emblazoned with the three legged Manx symbol. The symbol is so proliferate in fact, that I begun to feel uneasy about it. It seemed less an innocent symbol of pride and more a sinister badge of an exclusive club - like the 'eye and pyramid' of the masons. The three legs brought to mind the Nazi swastika, especially after seeing it on the wheel - painted in red, black and white.

From Laxey we returned to Douglas on a modern (diesel) double decker bus. The trip time was shorter, more comfortable, very cheap but less exciting. After changing busses in Douglas we alighted in Castletown to try and find a place to eat. Castletown was lovely, older buildings - this after all was the original capital and principle town of the Isle of Man before Douglas. Our brief visits to Port Erin, Port St Mary, Laxey and Douglas had not left me much optimism of finding anywhere good to eat. If there were places it was going to require local knowledge. In Castletown however we chanced upon a Spanish tapas bar called 'The Garrison' - named after the building I presume rather than their wares. Upon entering we were warmly greeted but nearly disappointed as they were fully booked. Fortunately The manager squeezed us in and we were rewarded with a superb menu and an imaginative wine list. Our fine bottle of rosé and a generous selection of excellent food added a high note to a splendid day.

It was an easy trip back to the boat. The Isle of Man was full of contrasts - we'd seen both the dour and the delightful. We could now move on taking some fond memories with us.

More pictures...

Walking to Port Erin.