April antics on the Isle of Man

 

With spring in the air our destination for April's tour was the Isle of Man. This Crown dependency with its own Parliament was once described by a local wit as being, "A rock in the middle of the Irish sea with 80,000 alcoholics clinging to it" - perhaps that was the attraction for us? It is also famed for a number of things; the Manx cats which have no tails; The TT races that occur in May and June which sees the island flooded with motorbike enthusiasts to watch people with a death wish hurtle round the island's 37.7 mile course on public roads and they do this in 17 minutes averaging 136MPH ! Other interesting facts about our destination - the Isle of Man Parliament, The Tynwald, was the first national legislative body in the world to give women the vote in 1881; The Isle of Man has no capital gains tax, wealth tax, stamp duty or inheritance tax and a top rate of income tax of 20% but perhaps what probably tipped it for our visit was that Malcolm (AKA The Grinstead Giggler) had been brought up on the Island so we had a ready made Tour Guide for the trip.
We gathered on Sunday night in the Premier Inn in Lancaster to plot, plan and prepare for our adventure. We being me, Richard and Malcolm - The Highgate Viking had had to drop out due to work commitments So with bikes cleaned, chains lubricated and panniers and bags packed we headed for our ferry on Monday and the crossing to the IoM.



Lancaster Departure


Eric steps in for Richard

Our route took us on the cycle path from Lancaster to Morecambe and onwards to the port of Heysham marked by the huge concreted blocks that are the nuclear power station that guard the harbour entrance. There are certain factors that not even the most meticulous travellers can plan for and the change of our vessel from the luxurious Manxman ferry which was built in 2023 and had a capacity for 1000 passengers and crew to the ageing rust bucket The Ben My Chree which was built in 1998 with a capacity for 666 passengers and crew was one such factor. The other significant factor that we had no control over was the weather. We had picked a really bad day to travel - gale to severe gale force winds, squally heavy rain and all battering us from the north west.



Not looking pretty !

We took shelter in the Half Moon Cafe on Heysham beach after we had battled into a head wind that was so strong we were fighting our bikes from being blown sideways. Much to mine and Malcolm's amusement we had earlier watched as Richard and his bike skid on mud whilst he was trying to read some interesting plaque on the side of a sports hall about the football referee Mark Clatenburg. He went down like a sack of spuds but quickly picked himself up hoping that we hadn't witnessed his fall. We showed him a yellow card and booked him for diving!



Heysham



Security Man

Having checked in we than had to wait in the cold wind and rain to board. At one stage the wind was so strong I sought shelter in the security man's hut. Eventually the rust bucket left port over an hour late and headed out into the the gale.

The crossing was unpleasant to say the least. We managed to secure the last 3 available seats in a lounge that was full Primary school children from Doncaster some of whom didn't look very well and were clutching little white bags which didn't appear to be their packed lunches. For those who suffer from seasickness I am told, it is the worst possible feeling in the world , fortunately for us, we didn't so passed the time sipping our bottles of beer watching streams of people rushing to the toilets and crew members milling around armed with buckets and mops. The overcrowding of the ferry didn't help as there was limited places where the wretched souls could wretch. All in all it was the worst ferry crossing of my maritime experiences.



Beers from the Cafe

Arrival in Douglas was a massive relief, late but a relief. A 4 minute ride away we located the Premier Inn right in the heart of downtown Douglas, which Malcolm proudly informed us that it had just been granted City status... I knew his local knowledge would come in useful. After all the exertions of the day we decided to eat in the hotel and get an early night ready for Tuesday's big ride.

Tuesday dawned bright and sunny but still windy. Our planned route was to head north to Ramsey and then across the island to take in some of the places where Malcolm had grown up and then back to Douglas on the old railway line from Peel. We were keen to sample all that the IoM could offer so had chosen to start loading our bikes onto the Electric Train that runs from Douglas to Ramsey via Laxey.

The hour journey in the open sided carriage ensured that we had some spectacular views of the island even if it was a little cold! What also fascinated me was the friendliness of the people who stopped to wave at the passengers as the train passed through villages - can't see it catching on in on the 0826 from Woking to Waterloo though . Coffee in Ramsey to warm up was preceded by a visit to a local bike shop. Alarmingly Malcolm's newly acquired ebike was displaying an error message and he wasn't getting any power assistance. The bike shop guys had a look but didn't have much idea what was causing it but miraculously by the time we left the shop the fault had cleared itself.






From Ramsey we headed west across the island to Kirk Michael and where Malcolm had spent much of his formative years. We cycled passed his late parents houses, his grandfathers house, his old Primary School and would have visited the Mitre Pub, where he'd probably had his first pint of Okells bitter aged 8, had it been open. We detoured down to Glen Mooar where Malcom had fished , swam and had other unmentionable experiences and where he still to this day , owns some land. Richard & I did have a few suggestions as to what he should do with it but I'm not sure they were taken seriously.





Glen Mooar

Peel was our next stop but not before a quick photo call by the road sign to my favourite named place on the island - Cronk y Voddy - sound like some cheap Polish Vodka that you can get in Bargain Booze.


A bottle of Cronk y Voddy please!

Sweeping down the main road from Kirk Michael we arrived in Peel a little bit thirsty so headed to The Creek, another one of Malcolm's old haunts from his younger days. Peel, once the capital of the IoM, is the 3rd largest town on island and is the largest fishing port. Peel is also home to the Dixon sisters, Nicola and Isla, former students of Atlantic College and well renowned Manx women in their own areas of expertise. Nic is an artist who is just about to have a set of stamps released from her designs. Check out her website www.nicoladixon.com to see her vivid and colourful works. Nic and I had sailed together when she was a student. Isla had been a contemporary of Richard at Atlantic College and now runs an internationally acclaimed Physiotherapy business on the IoM, check out her website, www.scottphysio.com. So sitting outside The Creek I decided to give Nic a call to see if she was around for a catch up. Five minutes later she arrived to join us followed shortly after by Isla. Strangely I had earlier enquired in the pub if anyone knew a maritime artist who lived locally but nobody had heard of Nicola Dixon. Quite a shock when she turned up outside and promptly told us that she had designed the cushions for the pub - we enlightened the bar staff to this fact!



Nic's bird cushions



Former class mates

It was late in the afternoon by the time we had finished catching up and Nic and Isla had to leave us. So we before we set off for Douglas we weaved our way to have a look at Peel Castle. The ride back to Douglas was along the old railway line which although flat,  seemed to take an awful long time to return to our hotel. I'm pretty sure we didn't cycle in a straight line on account of the Okells bitter consumed during the afternoon reunion. Finding somewhere to eat in Douglas after 9.30 on a Tuesday night in April proved problematic - all of the restaurants we tried were either closed or had stopped serving - we ended up sitting on some rickety plastic chairs in a seedy looking Kebab shop in a back alley eating something that had been carved off, what looked like an elephants leg... and chips. Later that evening it was for Richard, a case it was abrakebabra - now you see it.... now you don't.....now you see it again. He claims he was just coughing!

Injebreck Climb 

Wednesday begin overcast and grey and the wind was still blowing hard.  We had decided that we'd like to see some of the mountains of the island so decided to test our resolve with one of  the steepest climbs that the IoM had to offer from the West Baldwin Reservoir up to the top of Injebrek Hill. The road up to the reservoir was pleasant enough, even when it started raining but the 4km climb from the northerly end of the reservoir to the top was brutal. I had made the decision to keep pedalling as pushing my bike on foot was not really an option, too heavy and too much pain!  Malcolm managed to cycle most of it but did a bit of walking and Richard, on his clean, lubricated light weight titanium bike managed to cycle it all with the occasional stop to recover his breath or adjust his rear derailleur, chain or rear wheel, whichever part was malfunctioning at the time.  If he got very unlucky all three components would fail at the same time.

Reservoir to Mountains

On reaching the summit we paused for refreshments and a photo call with Snaefell as our backdrop before heading down to the TT course to Windy Corner and the Creg Na Baa hotel for some liquid refreshments. 

Posing with Snaefell

It was at this point that Richard's previously mentioned, well maintained and degreased bike decided to disintegrate.  First the rear derailleur packed up , then a spoke broke on his rear wheel, then his chain became was so loose you could probably hear it slapping in the Cumbrian hills.   With a long descent to the warmth of the Creg Na Baa, Richard's steady and careful  descent was followed by Malcolm chuckling behind him to ensure that if his back wheel did collapse, he would be able to pick up the debris.  I however,  had free wheeled at break neck speed down to the hotel clocking up 73.4 kmph on road surfaces that were as smooth as a baby's bottom and no Cat's Eyes in the tarmac. Sitting by the wood burner in the warmth of the bar we discussed the speeds that the motorbikes would achieve on this stretch of the TT Course - frightening. After a couple of shandies the only thing that remained for us was the final drop into Douglas , an early tea and out to watch Arsenal win in the Champions League game.  The best laid plans of mice and men.....we had earlier joked about what else could possible go wrong with Richard's well maintained, very expensive bike, perhaps he would lose a pedal, or get a puncture?  Sods law kicked in... and his left crank fell off as we were entering Douglas.  Fortunately we were cycling along the Promenade on the flat and not far from a bike shop.

He limped to the bike shop Bikestyle where Rob & Richard were extremely helpful but even with their expertise couldn't work miracles. Fortunately they did have an ebike for hire that ensured Richard didn't miss out on any of the cycling the following day. Mean while Malcolm and I limped and laughed our way to the British Hotel for a pint. I told Richard that he should look after his bike... would he listen?

Fixing his bike outside The British Hotel

The evening actually didn't get any better for Richard  - after eating in Jak's Sports Bar and smokehouse we were forced to watch Arsenal lose before we trudged back to the Premier Inn, to get some well earned rest before another day in the saddle.

For our last day of cycling we had decided to put our bikes on the Isle of Man Steam railway which runs from Douglas down to the south of the island.  It is the longest 3 foot narrow gauge steam railway in Britain and still uses the original trains and carriages.  

Train spotters

It was a good job that we had arrived early to book our tickets as a large number of the seats in the carriages  had been reserved for coach parties.  After securing our bikes in the guards van we took our seats in one of the rear carriages, hoping that we wouldn't be joined by anyone else.

Alas, just before the train left 5 other people and a dog squeezed into our carriage for the journey down to Port Erin.  The train trundled along through the scenic Manx countryside, whistling and blowing smoke along the way.  The usual waves from passers by lightened our journey and inevitably the shared conversation with our fellow travellers. One of the conversations concerned statues.  I had mentioned the one of Eric Morecambe where we had taken a photograph earlier in the week and Malcolm asked whether the Norfolk contingent of our carriage had seen the statues of the Bee Gees in Douglas, they hadn't but it did come as a surprise to learn that Barry, Maurice and Robin Gibb had been born on the IoM.  For some reason the conversation turned to the Scout Movement and Baden Powell. One of the women from Norfolk sitting next to me whispered loudly and theatrically to her husband , "I heard that he wasn't a very nice man and the only reason he set up the scouts was so he could get close to the young boys. He was , you know (pregnant pause and sly glance round the carriage) one of those homosexulists! " With that, the three of us were about to burst our stifled mirth but managed to stare blankly out of the window. It was sort of timely that when we got off the train, Malcolm reminded us that the IoM was the last place in the British Isles to legalise same sex activity as late as 1992.  I wonder what Lord Powell would have thought.

From Port Erin we took the steep road out and headed for The Calf of Man, the southerly most point.  A few photo opportunities and a coffee in the Sound Cafe and we were back on our way heading to Castletown.

The Calf & Castletown in the rain!

As it had been raining we decided to take refreshment before heading back to Douglas so called into The Sidings Pub, a splendid warm hostelry that had Okells bitter on tap and roaring open fire and was the old station.  Needless to say we didn't want to leave, but....

The Sidings

Despite the rain the route back to Douglas was spectacular with the last couple of kilometres along Marine Drive with its views over Douglas Bay.  We didn't have time to visit the Camera Obscura but did make it back to the British Hotel for a swifty before a bath!

A sunny Marine Drive

A wet British Hotel

The final night of our merriment involved meeting up with an old Westminster College friend of mine from the 1970's.  Martin Perkins (AKA Rhino)  has lived on the IoM for ages.  He achieved his nickname whilst at Westminster College as a young PE student.  During a gymnastics lecture Martin was asked to demonstrate a handspring over a box.  Not known for his grace and swift movement (most rugby props are not designed to be gymnasts) Martin ran full tilt  at the aforementioned box which he collided with  sending himself and the top part of the box spinning to the floor.  The lecturer's comment came loud and clear,  " Perkins! You're like a charging Rhino - do it again!"  And so he has since been known as Rhino.  Originally from Somerset he came over to work for an engineering company and has never left. He's an all rounder, larger than life character ; a sailor, sea shanty singer, squeeze box player, lover of real ale and had been a member of the Manx Parliament as the member for Garff but never a Gymnast.   We had agreed to meet in the Rovers Return pub for a quick pint but needless to say, one turned into two... you get the picture,  anyway it was good to catch up and reminisce about our youth!

Rhino

Pizza for supper was followed by a night cap in the hotel bar before slumber.  Our journey home was going to be a long day.  The ferry, Manxman sailed on time and was as luxurious as the Ben My Chree had been a rust bucket.  Spacious, plenty of seating and access to wifi! 

Departure from Douglas

Sun at last

The ride back to Lancaster was without incident... no falling off and Richard also managed to keep his crank on.  Cars loaded we headed back south and another epic cycling tour had come to an end.

Anyone up for Ireland in July ?

Men of Manx Training Tour

 With just three weeks to go until our trip to the Isle of Man in April, the M o M quartet decided to get some training in.... well two of us did.  The Highgate Viking unfortunately has had to drop out of the tour leaving the trio of myself, The Walton Wheeler and the newest member of our group, Malcolm aka The Grinstead Giggler.

The Grinstead Giggler

The Walton Wheeler was tied up with work  so couldn't make this training ride and the Giggler was passing by on his way to Swansea to collect his youngest son from University, which provided the ideal opportunity to try out his newly acquired Raleigh Array electric bike on the savage roads of the Vale of Glamorgan. When I suggested a route that took in 14 pubs, The Giggler's eyes lit up.  As someone who suffers from alcoholic constipation (he can't pass pubs) he soon became realistic when I indicated that we wouldn't have time to sample all of them but maybe 4 or 5 would do?

M o M Training Ride route

Departure

Leaving Llantwit Major we headed to the village of Wick where a slight adjustment in the saddle height on the Raleigh Array was called for.  Up until that point Malcom had resembled a butchers boy hunched over his handlebars struggling up the gentlest of hills. Hurtling downhill to Castle Upon Alun and onward to our first stop The Pelican Inn at Ogmore.  It used to be called the Pelican in Her Piety but since her refurbishment she has obviously lost some of her reverence so is now just known as the Pelican.

Thirsty work

Half an hour later we found ourselves in the warmth of the Star Inn in the village of Troes, outside Bridgend where the only other person in the pub, who happened to be smoking outside and witnessed our arrival, accused us of cheating using electric bikes.  When further questioned as to his understanding  of how ebikes worked,  the aforementioned youth displayed a complete lack of knowledge so opted to scuttle back inside to quaff his pint of Guinness.  We in turn followed,  to quietly sip our halves of shandy!

The Star Inn, Troes

By the time we left the Star it had started to get a little chilly and time was getting on,  so rather than risk  further stops at the Hare & Hounds and the Farmers Arms in the village of Aberthin we headed straight to Cowbridge to seek advice from the cycling guru Simon Leadbitter of Simon's Cycles.

The ever helpful Simon

We caught Simon at a good time - he was just about to close - after briefly discussing the merits of Bosch motors over Suntour hub motors we noticed that the light was fading and that The Grinstead Giggler's front light wasn't connected. With the speed of a phantom, Simon had connected the wires and had both front & rear lights working and for good measure injected both front and rear tyres of the Raleigh Array with puncture saving slime for the princely sum of £12.  He did suggest before we left that for all  we knew, he could have been squirting water into the tyres. We invited him to join us for a pint in the Bear Hotel next door but he declined, preferring the company of his lady friend for a romantic walk.

The Bear Hotel, Cowbridge

We had to stop at the Bear so I could have a quick catch up with my eldest who works there but bad timing on my part as he had finished his shift at 4pm. So we had a pint in his absence. A quick visit to Waitrose across the road to get some supplies and we were heading out of town up the hill with our lights resplendent in the increasing gloom. Twenty minutes later we arrived at our last port of call, the Blacksmiths Arms in Llanmaes, which was full of early evening drinkers. Unable to get a seat we loitered by the bar clutching our pints and ruminated on the success of the Raleigh's first real test of cycle touring before heading the last couple of kilometres home to our slow cooked beef in red wine and the sumptuous lemon cheesecake and Bailey's Truffles which Natalie (Malcolm's wife) had very kindly made.

Loitering with intent in the Blacksmith's

Home in the dark

After dinner the ride was analysed in depth and the maps of the Isle of Man were poured over with further plans of possible routes which avoided steep hills being thrown into the mix and all done with lashings of ginger beer. Roll on April and let us pray for some dry weather.

February frolics by the Thames

Having survived a wet and lengthy January with a few local rides with the Fairfield Flyer, the first weekend oh February coincided with the top of the table clash between Aresenal and Liverpool on the football field and so it was arranged to fit in some cycling around this, not to be missed, clash of these two Premier league giants. Circumstances have changed since the last blog so the Liphook Loafer now lives in Walton on Thames and shall now be referred to as the Walton Wheeler. He had arranged tickets for the game on the Sunday and had planned a couple of cycle routes routes for us on Friday and Saturday - The Royal Tour plan was to take in Hampton Court on Friday and Pizza Express in Woking on Saturday. With the car packed to the gunnels I set off from south Wales for Walton via Hillesley in Glocestershire where I had agreed to pick up the Bury Biker aka Jim. Jim had been at university in Brighton with the Walton Wheeler and who was joining us for said weekend. After Jim had loaded his bike, 2 guitars and cycling paraphenalia the VW Golf was beginning to creak under the strain. It did make it though downthe M4 and M25 to Walton on Thames and the leafy suburbs of Surrey.

A blurry start to Friday saw us heading towards the Walton on Thames Marina and dodging traffic along the busy roads on our way to Bushey Park. Passing the huge water works to the south of Sunbury on Thames we skirtred the Queen Elizabeth Reservoir and turned into Bushey Park to be greeted by a herd of deer basking the faint February sunlight.

A very gentle and flat ride accross the park and the sighting of the occasional ringed Parakeet found us at the entrance to Hampton Court. It is an Urban myth that the Parakeets that can be seen flying around this part of London are as a result of them escaping when the film "The African Queen " was being made at the nearby film studios in 1951! Our plan was to have tour of this Royal Palace, built originally for Cardinal Wolsey but later given to Henry VIII in order to try and check Wolsey's fall from grace. But the entrance fee of £55 was outside our budget and so we decided our money woud be better spent on lunch and beer.

Our route back to Walton saw us cross he Thames from the norh side onto the tow path on the south side. This well used path is shared by pedestrians, cyclists, joggers and wheel chair users alike so our progress was slower than our usual peleton pace! A couple of strategic stops for lunch and liquid refreshment and we were soon back in the warmth of the flat and the anticipation of a hot shower - except someone had left the hot water running for the last 5 hours - so we had to be satisfied with a large cognac to warm us up... the sacrifices we have to make?

Saturday dawned early with the arrival of the Viking from Highgate, who had driven down from Norf London to share in the fun of Saturday's ride. There had been some debate as to the choice of route but we eventually settled on one created by Komoot, our go to navigation app! Taking us intially south from Walton into deepest Surrey, we arrived in Cobham, real commuter belt, mock Georgian houses with pristine drives in roads called Accacia Avenue and Tulip Close and real footballers wives country. Suprisingly rural, we found tracks through Prince's Coverts, Oxshott Heath and Esher Common Princes's Coverts is owned by the Crown Estate ane named after Prince Leopold 1 of Belgium who lived in nearby Esher.

A refreshment stop in a very, very busy gastro pub, The Prince of Wales on the outskirts of Esher was well deserved after The Walton Wheeler insisted on taking us through yet more trecherous tracks which he deemed as being "proper biking". Eventually arriving back at the flat we had acheived the great feat of having gone over the A3 three times and under it once. Our ride could be likened to Julius Caesar's crossing of the Rubicon in 49BC - it had taken it's toll on the riders.