There is a magic pool in Ballaglass Glen. Amid oak, larch and beech trees, it is carved deep into the ancient paving stone, fed by a waterfall, adorned with sunbeams and probably adorned with skins. idle vegetable – Manx Gaelic for legendary “little people”. I felt a sense of joy as I slid my tired legs into the numbingly cold water.
It was the most spectacular of days when I hiked the first of the island’s eight new summits; Moderate to challenging routes between them conquer 25 of the Isle of Man’s peaks over 300 metres. The island may not be large — just 33 miles by 13 miles at its longest and widest points — but it has plenty of rugged terrain and satisfying elevation.
And – according to Kate Bergquist, Isle of Man walking ambassador and founder of Soul Adventures – an uncharted adventure. Kate helped create summit walks to take walkers away from the coast to show that humankind is more than leisurely strolls and the seaside. “The highlands are very different,” he tells me. “You see grand views of all seven kingdoms: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Man, Sky, Sea.”
I took the ferry from Liverpool to the island to see if I, a woman, could tackle the Man in three days without a car. The first day I met Kate on the Snaefell Mountain Railway, who has been joyfully climbing the island’s 620-metre peak since 1895, was a triumph. The wind was persistent but the skies were clear and blue as we set off from train passengers on the seven-mile northeast peaks five-peaks challenge route. “Kind of attractive,” Kate grinned.
We looked at it all: the flat plains in the north, the south jagged with valleys, the naval coast of the Irish Sea, the Lake District in the distance.
We were following a hollow, undulating ridge to the 565-metre jagged North Barrule, the island’s second highest peak. Along the way we chatted about all sorts of things, from Manx language place names being put back on maps to the Moddey Dhoo, a black dog that roams the land. We ate manx good luckThe most delicious spicy soda bread. And we looked at everything: the flat northern plains, the cliff-strewn south, the dark blue waves of the Irish Sea, the distant Lake District.
Kate is passionate about the mental health benefits of being in nature. “No one has ever felt worse after a walk in the woods,” he claimed, as he passed through the bracken and descended towards Ballaglass. “And cold water is the most powerful thing.”
I felt absolutely great after the whole adventure, which culminated in me sticking my toe in Cornaa, a stop near the valley, and boarding the island’s electric railway, happily heading back to Douglas.
My plan for the second day was to follow part of the 10-mile Middle East Peaks route, which starts with a short taxi ride from Douglas. But things got off to an inauspicious start when my driver missed the trail, ominously named Windy Corner, as heavy rain and clouds erased the highlands of defining features. He stepped back and I stepped into a depressing mess of pea soup. Wondering how wise my decision was, I crossed a trackless steppe and disappeared in a heap wet up to my knees.
As the cloud thinned for a moment, I saw the troughs going down to one side. Relying on my OS map, my app, and my prayers, I reached a fence in the stone wall. I continued on, briefly supported by some beautiful woodland, and soon joined a wide, open path. However, the ground underfoot was hard and rocky, and it was starting to rain in a way that would push even type II fun to its limits. Reaching the 546 meter Beinn-y-Phott, which I couldn’t actually see, I decided to cancel and took the damp, dreary, traffic-escaping mountain road towards Bungalow station; From here, soaked and defeated, I took the mountain railway to Laxey.
Kate had told me that her favorite of the eight walks was the 12-mile southwest peaks and Niarbil coast route; I did not take these into consideration because they were difficult to reach. But the next day there was a bus from Douglas to tiny Niarbyl. I thought I might take a detour and add some coastal road (totaling about 15 miles or so) to reach the small seaside town of Port Erin; If everything had worked, I would have made my triumphant return to Douglas on the 150-year-old steam railway. I consulted Kate. His verdict: “Epic plan.”
The sun was shining when I boarded the bus across the island on Saturday morning. The only other passenger, he told me, was also planning to hike to Niarbil. He also told me about the annual Congregational March, an 85-mile march between all the churches on the island that is held every June and dates back to the 1850s. He announced that he had won in the past. When we got to the end of the road by the sea, he offered me a good deal and quickly walked away. I took my time.
Kate was right. This route was amazing. First I set off north, then through sweet-scented gorse and ferns. I followed the valley inland, where the mouth of Glen Maye meets the beach; It was even more fairy-tale than Ballaglass, leafy and bubbly, thin and twisty, with a hidden waterfall cascading at the tip. Beyond Glen Maye I found a path along a shallow stream; The sun dazzled the rust-colored waters and iridescent damselflies.
Day Watch Hill is where the islanders will look out for the Vikings
Reaching the top of the 483-metre South Barrule was a short, stiff out-and-back; I was keen to mark it as I had conquered its name in the north. South Barrule was a Celtic iron age hill fort; Excavations here revealed the remains of many circular huts. The huge panorama taken on a clear day explains why this is a strategic point.
I went down and then immediately climbed uphill again to reach the top of the 437-meter Cronk ny Arrey Laa (Day Watch Hill). This is where the islanders will keep an eye on the Vikings. It is now a beautiful spot for ground nesting birds and views of the wild west coast. My summit hike has officially returned north to Niarbil. But I resorted to cheating and decided instead to head south to reach Port Erin and take part of the Raad ny Foillan road that skirts the coast of the island.
It was difficult. The coast of the Isle of Man was highest and most rugged in its south-western corner; steepest, most magnificent. I fought the bushes; I encountered calf-shaking pulls. But then I looked up and saw a sea of molten silver stretching all the way to Ireland; leaping rabbits and circling seagulls; I saw cliffs jutting, shifting, falling, rising.
Finally, the 19th-century battlements of Milner Tower foreshadowed the Port of Erin Bay. A mile or so later I was on the soft sandy bend of town, sipping a cold beer from the beach bar.
I surveyed the damage: scratched limbs, hair blowing in the wind, the suspicious smell. But it’s alive and buzzing.
The trip was provided by Visitisleofman.com. Bed and breakfast is doubling in size at the Mannin Hotel in Douglas £105p. Soul Adventures organizes guided hikes, wild swimming and other activities. Liverpool-Douglas foot passenger returns from £52 p. Ferries also depart from Heysham and Belfast.