5 out of 7 on Snaefell

It's holiday time at last and here I am, writing this on the Isle of Man, where I arrived on Friday afternoon aboard the super-fast catamaran ferry Manannan. Here she is in Liverpool, the night before, looking something like an inter-galactic spaceship in a sci-fi film.

On the way over I got chatting to a couple who used to make the journey on the old ferry, when the crossing took 4 hours.  The lovely Manannan raced over in just 2¼ – though there was the inevitable hanging around beforehand... checking in at least ¾ hour beforehand and waiting for the ferry to disgorge it's in-bound load.

High on my list of objectives for this holiday was the ascent of Snaefell. A few of my friends have been there but unluckily found the summit shrouded in mist, so I promised myself that on the first clear day, up I would go.  I didn't have to wait long as yesterday's weather forecast was excellent.

Veteran of many a mountain climb I may be, but decided to do this one the easy way – by mountain tramway from Laxey. To preserve my honour, though, I would walk back down to Laxey.

On these exposed stretches of the line they take down the overhead wires every winter to avoid ice damage, so Wikipedia informs me. The same article says that the tramcars are fitted with Fells Braking Equipment, which explains the third rail in the middle of the track, though another article says that they hardly ever need to use it, due to extra braking equipment that they now carry on the roof. So now you know.

Here is our tramcar (No.1) at the mountain top terminus...

and here's little me near the summit. That's Laxey in the sunshine at the bottom of the valley.

This was the nicest of the views, north east with Ramsey in the distance. A little to the left I could clearly see Galloway (Scotland) and to the west could just about make out the Mountains of Mourne (Ireland). Indeed, it is said that one may see seven kingdoms from Snaefell — those of Man, England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Neptune and Heaven. Unfortunately, gathering clouds to the east blotted out England and Wales but despite the grey clouds over my head, I'm claiming the other five. 

On the way back down I snapped No.1 crossing the famous TT Course at Bungalow. Only two days earlier this spot would have been packed with spectators for the last of the season's Classic TT races. Now, all was peaceful... the way I like it.