Continuing the series of notes on a summer trip through the United Kingdom and five other countries. I discuss where I’ve been and share what I’ve seen. The beginning of the epic: Manchester, Liverpool, Belfast.
After bidding farewell to Belfast, we embarked towards the mysterious island between Ireland and Great Britain.
Flight from Belfast to the Isle of Man. Journey time: 30 minutes.
Upon arriving at the small airport, we hurried to exit. The island greeted us with bad weather: cold rain poured, and gusty winds howled around us.
The first unpleasant surprise was realizing the city’s public transport isn’t connected to Google Maps. We had to rely on an outdated paper schedule. The second problem was this outdated paper schedule on the airport wall, which caused us to miss our bus, making us wait another 40 minutes. The third issue was roaming. Even with a European sim card, there was roaming on this island.
Finding the right bus was only possible thanks to kind elderly people who explained which bus would take us to the island’s capital.
Once on the bus, wet and cold from the rain, we felt like the protagonists of the film “Frozen from Miami.” The winding road through green thickets swayed, and the rain set the rhythm of the conversation. An elderly couple nearby started a conversation with a blonde woman with an expensive suitcase. She got off soon, somewhere midway to the capital. Probably a local.
Due to the absence of stops on the map, we had to navigate blindly. We disembarked shortly before Lochpromenade, the seafront where everyone strolls in nice weather.
The wind pushed us from the back, and the rain mercilessly drizzled in our faces. But even in such weather, the city is not without its charm. The gray mist slowly descended, cozily enveloping the coastline.
After exploring, we reached a fairy-tale hotel overlooking the sea promenade. The entrance’s glass conservatory and carved stairs were the first things to catch our eye.
After resting there, we decided to stay for dinner. Live music plays nightly downstairs in the bar. Our meal was accompanied by the chatter of local retirees (the overwhelming majority of the island) and piano music.
A New Day
The morning began with a British breakfast in the hotel’s glass atrium, reminiscent of a winter garden. Having admired the coast for a long time, we couldn’t resist greeting the sea. A walk along the coast is priceless, even in gloomy weather.
A small covered colonnade caught our eye, where one can ascend to Villa Marina overlooking the emerald grass. Slightly elevated, the view brings more charm.
Heading to a museum, we stopped by St. Thomas Church, where we were warmly welcomed and given a short tour. Locals engage in charity here: bringing in books they’ve read which can be taken for a 1-pound donation. Naturally, I found a book I liked there 😉
The stairs leading to the desired museum weren’t far from the church. Manx Museum—the main museum of the city, showcasing the island’s history and paintings by Manx artists.
Noteworthily, the main hall displays modern paintings inspired by races and local landscapes, available for purchase. The catalog and price tags are on this same wall. We barely restrained ourselves!
After shopping in a souvenir shop, we headed to the city’s most beautiful spot. En route, we crossed a bridge overlooking Douglas Harbour. It’s where expensive and not-so-expensive sailing boats of locals dock. A fairytale life!
Ahead was a climb up a steep hill, housing the city’s best lookout point. There, we encountered a gorgeous garden with palm trees.
On the mountain’s edge, a wooden bench awaited us with views of a lighthouse against which sky-blue waves crashed. An enthralling sight.
After enjoying the view and the invigorating sea air, we descended “townward, hungry” to snack at a newly opened restaurant. More about the café in a separate article. Remember right?
In the center, we couldn’t deny ourselves the pleasure of browsing souvenir shops. We left with a toy Manx sheep made of local lochdan natural wool.
Checking out of the hotel, we descended to the sea again, admiring the architecture of nearby coastal houses.
Running to the bus, we encountered a cruel-spirited horse-drawn tram entertaining tourists. The island is famous for maintaining all kinds of trams ever invented, but the horse-drawn one is the last in the public transport system. I regret the exploitation of animals to this day.
Castletown
An hour later we alighted in another town, Castletown or the Castle town. Guiding ourselves the old way, without map stops, we got off somewhere midway and walked toward the sea.
We met surfers, bathing children and adults, and people in jackets. Such is the harsh British climate!
Passing by the green fields of King William’s College, where local kids were playing soccer, and on the opposite side of the field, white gulls were frolicking, we paused at a nearby town Derbyhaven on a beach with fine pebbles.
Nearby stood a couple more camper vans and a convertible. Somewhere in the distance, a windsurfer could be seen soaring over the waves.
Time on the shore seemed to stand still.
Gathering our thoughts, we headed to the airport. It’s nearby. On the way, we passed by the Manx Aviation and Military Museum—an aviation museum that closes rather early.
The small airport greeted us. We went through the screening in an empty hall. Upon exiting, we immediately found ourselves in the departure lounge, which had a small bar-coffee shop and one souvenir shop. Settled into leather chairs and tucked into warm clothes, we waited for boarding on the only remaining (there were only two) flight to fly further toward adventures!
Read the beginning of this journey: Manchester, Liverpool, Belfast.
The continuation will be out real soon. Thank you for reading to the end 🙂
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