Ok ok, so we made it on to the Isle of Man, it’s a quirky little trip we took, great – what exactly does one do when you’re visiting? The most / only famous thing that goes on is the “T.T.”, which they locally say means “Tourist Trophy” but apparently is a general abbreviation for “time trial” in motorcycle racing. Thanks to the beautiful scenery, the legal gray area that envelops the country, and a culture of no speed limits whatsoever, it has become a very popular stop on the motorcycle racing circuit. Popular, and deadly. The Wikipedia page for fatalities on the Isle of Man Mountain Course has 270 entries, for a race that’s been running for a little more than a hundred years. It’s not just entries from antiquity, either; there were 3 deaths in 2023 while 2024 had a single fatality. My brief perusal didn’t see many years that had none. Even when the race isn’t going on, you still see signs of the race. We know this, because we were nowhere near the time of the T.T. and we still saw plenty of barriers and signage.

Hang on, John; you weren’t there for the race so what did you do? It was a trip that didn’t look that much different from our other trips to the U.K., which I mean in a good way. We saw ancient sites and natural beauty and, occassionally, poked around town to see what was what. On the north end of the island we visited Maughold Church, which is a nice enough old chapel but, more interestingly, it houses a collection of tombstones within its graveyard that date back a thousand years and more, illuminating early “viking” influences on the island. (We’re not doing the “who is or isn’t a viking” debate on the Ramble; they’ve got Christian-looking gravestones with stories about Loki on them, that’s good enough for us.) Almost two dozen headstones were gathered under an awning, not-exactly preserved but at least kept out of the worst of the elements. Signs explained with brief summaries of what you might be able to pick out of the carvings if you looked closely enough.

We also toodled to one of our classic out-of-the-way spots where the road ends up barely one lane with no visibility around hairpin turns, tucked in amongst the rolling hills. In this case it was a double-dip of ancient and (relatively) modern attractions. First, the Ballafayle Cairn which was a nice specimen of its type. Granted like almost all of them it had long since been de-nuded, but the sense of scale was still lovely to see, and seeing it set high on the hillside, with views (on a clear day at least) of land in four different directions helps explain why it was probably a chosen site in the first place. That scenery also explains why there were two different viewpoints, named after residents of the island who would come and take stock of the world down through the years. The more prominent was “Charlie’s View”. Charlie being a landowner and a “Sir” of some sort or another, his memorial viewpoint sees regular upkeep, plus there’s statuary and a lovely little weather-break for hanging out there on a windy day (of which there are probably plenty).

And then there were the Bee Gees. (Sorry, the what now?) You heard me, the Bee Gees. Apparently the famously-Australian musical brothers were in fact not-so-famously Manx-born before the family crossed the equator at some point. We had no idea of this bit of trivia before we arrived, but as we walked along the promenade in Douglas one afternoon Lisa squints into the distance for a moment before asking “is that the Bee Gees??” The statue she was looking at was probably a hundred feet away, and facing away from us to boot, but it was hard to imagine who else it could possibly be. If you are familiar with the Bee Gees tune “Ellan Vannin” (for which you’d admittedly have to be a pretty big fan), you might like to know that it is based off a poem of “traditional” origin on the Isle of Man. Still, if you aren’t expecting the Bee Gees, and are suddenly faced with a life-sized, life-like bronze representation of them, it’s startling.

Hopefully the chill vibe of this post is coming across, because our time on the Isle of Man was indeed a chill time. Not in a boring way, but a truly relaxing one. We ate well, if not spectacularly. We touristed well, if not breathtakingly. We relaxed, enjoyed the cool weather, and generally idled in a pleasant state. On our final morning we rose early, dropped our car at the ferry terminal, and prepared to make our way to Dublin.

Lisa often plans our trips. (This is all me this time, my bride is “on assignment”…) She’s great at it, and she likes doing it. There are specific moments in the planning process that I play a key role in, but she has said for years that in another life she would have been a travel agent, so mostly I stay out of her way. That said, who doesn’t like taking a break once in a while. So, this whole trip was my baby, soup to nuts. Flights, lodging, restaurants, I took all of it off her plate. (I am not trying to play the hero here; if you know me well this should sound more ominous than heroic.) I learned everything from her so really there isn’t a lot of difference in me doing. Excceeeepppt, I am unhealthily attracted to the corners of maps. There are a couple of spots I’ve had my eye on for years, and this trip was an ideal opportunity to check out the Isle of Man.

Granted, the “ideal opportunity” still involved some careful timing of multiple ferries and three different cities; when you’re dealing with micro-nations you have to grade on a curve, ok? Still, the pieces of the trip were dovetailing nicely. We landed in Dublin like we said last time, and took a bus to Belfast. Next we’d be taking the “Isle of Man Steam Packet” to Douglas on the Isle of Man and then ending up on another… er… steam packet?… to Dublin. What is a steam packet, you ask? Well, it goes back to the 16th century and… whatever, it’s an antiquated term for the ships that brought mail and stuff to the island, and now it’s your typical ferry for cars and people. The trip takes 2-3 hours depending on which leg you’re talking about; there are also flights but at least one member of my family doesn’t care for really small airplanes. So, what’s the deal with the Isle of Man? What’s the attraction?

My dirty secret is that I knew very little about the place before we made our plans to go. I first poked around it years ago along with places like Inishmore and Islay (both small islands although not nations). What I knew back then was that it had a scattering of the old megalithic sites we enjoy visiting, aaaaannd they speak English. However, by the time I was actually setting this trip up I knew that the weather was that same crisp, cool weather as the rest of the British Isles, the terrain looked absolutely beautiful, and there were just enough historical curiosities to keep us interested if we end up feeling tourist-y. Plus, there’s the curiosity of the “nation” of the Isle of Man. Even more than Ireland or Scotland, Isle of Man exists in a liminal state, with its own governing body and kinda-sorta self rule, but they use the pound as their currency and still kind of “collective bargain” with Great Britain, e.g. they also are not part of the European Union. They have leveraged their strange legal existance to become a tax haven, not that this pays off for the average tourist.

We arrived in the capital town of Douglas, picked up our rental car, and headed for Port St. Mary on the southern end of the island. We were booked into a charming bed & breakfast, Carrick Rooms, which was honestly one of the nicer places we’ve stayed in quite awhile. Charming hosts, a comfortable room, and centrally located in walking distance to dining and transport. We didn’t use the car at all on at least one of our days. Instead, we checked off an extra bucket list item thanks to a famous literary inspiration – a genuine steam engine. Tell you all about it…. shortly.