TONY CLAYTON-LEAovercomes his initial scepticism to discover an underrated and clearly taken-for-granted destination, with a streak of individuality and a quirky sense of humour that he can't help but admire
WE WEREN’T too sure about the Isle of Man, to be honest, but as we were driving towards Douglas, the island’s capital, from our base in the south, we passed two prominent signs at the side of the road. The first was for the Mann Cat Sanctuary, a self-funded, registered charity that is committed to responsible pet ownership.
As if that wasn’t sentimental enough, the second one just plain tugged at the heartstrings. As we drove by the sign for The Home of Rest for Old Horses, we had to hand the hankies to each other. We could see them as we passed – retired tram horses put out, literally, to pasture.
So far, so good. There was something else about the Isle of Man, however, that took us by surprise, and that was the residual sound of motorbikes revving up and shooting off from one end of the island to the other. Not being of the motorbike persuasion, but aware that the island hosts the annual Isle of Man TT (Tourist Trophy) event, we were amazed at how much “the TT” (as it’s known) has become such a part of the island’s identity.
Everywhere you go, there are reminders of the event, which takes place each year over a two-week period in late May/early June, and which first started on the island in 1907. It makes a massive contribution to the island’s economy, is regarded by punters and aficionados alike as the greatest motorcycle sporting event in the world, and is recommended to anyone who loves the roar of engines and the smell of oil.
If you’re not a motorbike fan, and are planning on touring the island by car, just make sure not to book a holiday during the event, as the main roads are commandeered. (Actually, it’s as well to check out the motor sports events schedule on the website visitisleofman.com as there are other regular events held throughout the year.)
We arrived during the Manx Grand Prix, which is an amateur event, and lower key than the TT, but there was still a strong presence of bikers.
You can understand why the rallies and races have gained such a stronghold on the island, though: there’s a toys-for-boys appeal that’s difficult to ignore, as well as the thrill/terror of seeing a motor bike zipping past your car at a speed you only ever see in movies.
In many ways, it’s all about the roads on the Isle of Man. A small island, home to just over 80,000 people, equidistant from Ireland and Britain, it is 52kms long and just over 22kms wide. This means it’s a cinch to traverse by car – you are always at your destination quicker than you think.
But before you take the car out for a stretch, consider taking a train ride from Douglas to the summit of Snaefell Mountain, which has a height of 630m (2,066ft). The electric mountain railway line is operated, it has to be said, mostly for the benefit of tourists, but there’s something ridiculously childish about sitting in an open-air carriage that shakes your bones from start to finish.
Up at the summit the views are spectacular – on a good day, as it was when we visited, you can see the lush land mass of the island, as well as Scotland, England, Wales and Ireland.
THE SUPERB landscape is one of the major bonus points here, and one that is often overlooked. Time after time, the splendour of the island interior sucker punched us as we drove around.
After the summit trip, for instance, we headed south towards an area known as the Sound. A small stretch of water that separates the main island from the Calf of Man (a tiny island where ornithological research is carried out), and situated at the tail end of the island between Port St Mary and Port Erin, The Sound is an ideal stopping off point if you fancy a bracing walk along one of the island’s many coastal paths. It also benefits from the 180-degree, glass-structured Sound visitor centre, which houses a smart cafe and informative wall hangings.
If you’re looking for some kind of peace on Earth, then drive out of the Sound and on towards Fleshwick Bay, which is approached by a dirt track laneway, and which eventually ends in a cul-de-sac point at the bay itself. Part no-man’s land and tranquil picnic spot, Fleshwick Bay is simply beautiful, and as far removed from the drone of engines as you can imagine.
If you’re aching for more interior landscape beauty spots, then drive along the A18 mountain road from Douglas to Ramsey. Here be verdant vistas and valleys that are as stunning as anything you’ll see in Kerry or Connemara; the roads rise, dip and swerve with you as you strain to keep your eyes focused on the miles ahead, but now and again you’ve just got to stop the car, get out and soak up the panoramas laid out before you.
The small towns are, by comparison, less of a revelation. The larger conurbations of Douglas (population of less than 30,000) and Ramsey (population of less than 7,500) are nice enough and benefit from a quaintness factor that is very high and very British – if you’re looking for bowling greens, promenades, entertainment complexes, marinas and the sound of seagulls, then you’ll be well looked after.
The island’s villages, however, are inordinately pretty and maximise their appeal by a mash-up of a pleasant Mediterranean vibe and a selection of Coronation Street accents. This Manchester-sur-Mer aesthetic is difficult to shrug off (and too easy, perhaps, to sneer at), but over the course of a few days you get used to it.
We pay worthwhile visits to Castletown, the island’s tasteful ancient capital, and skirt by the innately picturesque seaside villages of Port St Mary and Port Erin. And then? Well, then we picked up a flyer for something called Jurby Junk.
NO ONE CAN prepare you for what you’ll discover on the outskirts of Jurby, which is essentially a one-tram-horse town. Overseen by the witchy-looking Stella Pixton for well over 30 years, Jurby Junk consists of two 280sq m (3,000sq ft) warehouse units latched together. One unit is full of narrow-aisled shelves of pure and utter tat, the kind of shabby detritus that grows and grows through years of obsessively collecting from car-boot sales; the second unit, however, is, without doubt, amazing.
With uncategorised second-hand books lining the walls, in boxes, shelves, piles (and more piles), this is mooching heaven. In fact, for someone who has been searching for Dennis Wheatley 1960s’ paperbacks in virtually every second-hand bookshop for the past 30 years, Jurby Junk is like arm-wrestling the orgasmatron from Woody Allen’s Sleeper movie.
Suffice to say, I left the warehouse sated, smug, satisfied, and with a big grin on my face. Did I get a Dennis Wheatley novel? Oh, yes – a mint 1958 Arrow paperback copy of The Devil Rides Out.("The albino, the man with the hare-lip, the Eurasian who only possessed a left arm. They're Devil worshippers, all of them!") Thank. You. God.
The Isle of Man? We liked the sense of individuality (the island is not part of the UK, instead being a “self-governing British Crown Dependency”; neither does it hold membership nor associate membership of the EU), even if on occasion it slipped over into a level of insularity that wasn’t always as visitor-friendly as it could have been.
And we really liked the grounded, singularly Northern sense of humour (a beauty salon called With Nail Eye, a car wash named Star Wash – the Empire Wipes Back).
What surprised us most of all, however, was the close proximity of an underrated and clearly taken-for-granted destination. This place is a bit of a gem less than an hour away by air, and there aren’t many of those left, are there?
- visitisleofman.com
Isle of Man where to...
Stay
Mount Murray Hotel Country Club, Santon, 00-44-1624-661111 mountmurray.com. This AA-rated four-star hotel/country club is 10 minutes from the airport and 10 minutes from Douglas, so it strikes a good balance between necessity and comfort. The breakfasts are good enough to set you up for the day, while the duck pond outside is a nice, rustic touch. Doubles from £94 (€106).
Eat
JAR Restaurant, Admiral Hotel, Douglas Promenade, 00-44-1624- 663553, jar.co.im. JAR is fine dining par excellence, and is presided over by chef Steve Deadman, who knows his stuff – the grilled whole Dover sole was mouth-watering.
The Courthouse, Athol Street, 00-44-1624-672555, the-courthouse.com. Open seven days a week, from 11am to much later than my bedtime, this grade II listed building (refurbished, beautifully, to within an inch of its life) is a mixture of cool bar, stylish restaurant and hopping nightclub. Owned/overseen by Sheffield man Andy Hardy (who is now relieved he didn’t set up shop in Dublin six years ago), The Courthouse is an uber-smart one-stop-shop for an evening’s entertainment.
Drink
The George Hotel, The Parade, Castletown, 00-44-1624-822533. This is is a traditional pub/ hostelry housed in a registered historic building that dates back to 1833. A pint of Butcom Blonde? Steak Ale pie? Yes, please, chuck.
Artisan, Victoria Street, Douglas, 00-44-1624-667917. This establishment has a split-level bar/cafe that suffers from equal parts designer envy and overly hip credibility. That said, say hello to the smartest bar on the island.
Get there
Aer Arann (aerarann.ie) flies from Dublin to Ronaldsway Airport, Isle of Man. Flight time is approximately 40 minutes.
The Isle of Man Steam Packet Company (steam-packet.com) sails from Dublin and Belfast to the Isle of Man. Crossing time is about two hours and 55 minutes