Douglas Head and the start.

First look down the cliffs.

2nd view with the Portico ahead.

I’m walking along Marine Drive, a little road high above the ocean.

The gothic portico approaches.

The road ahead with the cliffs continuing into the distance.

You all know that I suffer from vertigo, so this was risky.

The road already travelled – looking back to Douglas Head.

Some big bastard seems to be walled up in this cave.

Sun’s coming out – more on that later.

No more cars allowed ‘cos the sea is eating the road!

Strange shapes cut into the heather which is still in bloom. The thistles all seem to be done for the season.

Contented face. In the zone now, 2nd wind and feeling at one with the wilderness. I’d forgotten my sun cream and will be getting burnt on one side, the sun being on my left all day.

This is what I’m following – The Way of the Gull.

The cliffs to come and in the very far distance my finishing point.

Loving the rock striations – sandstone and quartz

A may tree overrun with ivy waiting like some beast to pounce.

The view into the south with an isolated ash tree choked by ivy. At this angle you would miss Wales and France and head out into the deep dark Atlantic Ocean until you hit the coast of Brazil.

Lost all my height coming down these stairs. Had to do it one at a time like some Grandad, the knees just won’t do two at once.

Down into this bay with its little British Legion equivalent. Love the logo.

And into this glen. Lovely and cool. Wasn’t paying attention and ended up going around in a circle.

Finally found my way out and headed up the hill under the old steam railway bridge.

Having to travel on the road for a bit because the owner of the big estate on the coast doesn’t want us plebs walking on his land and maybe looking at his house etc.

Huge gaffs around here. A Disney fairy princess for a daughter?

Hate the tarmac, but must be done. All along here on my left I could hear the male pheasants call.

Met a fellow traveller. Not much to say but he was ranging free.

Tarmac behind me now and heading down the nice lane towards the sea.

One of those beeves don’t like me.

Looking back at the central mountains.

Its been 2.5 miles since the little British Legion museum – Paddle, Fish, Heal. Staring to fade and need to rest but…

The path is getting hairy. Plenty of bottom clenching after this for a while. Tiny mud path on the edge of the cliffs. I was holding on to clumps of grass above my head to my right while crossing.

Looking back. That dark headland had the stairway of near death in it.

A nice grass path for a moment – but the gorse is moving in.

A bit of a clearer view back. My first crisis. Thinking I can’t go on. Problem though, it is a fair few miles back to anything like civilisation. Drank one of my bottles empty and ate my banana. Moved on. Those edge of the drop things freaked me out.

Held together with grass and ferns. That’s all.

Relief from the cliff edges.

Just see the tower of Castletown in the distance.

But gotta plough through the gorse.

I’ve got to slide down to reach that little bridge down there.

Turns out there was an even worst stair. Glad I’m not coming down that in the rain and wet.

The sun’s getting stronger and that evil young gorse is enjoying it.

Bumps and mounds on the cliff top.

Ah!

Heading down to sea level again – don’t like.

Nice little bay though. That’s probably why they are spoiling it with those rental cottages.

What goes down…

Must go up. Back on the cliff top and very glad for big Ian’s (Andrew’s) seat. 2nd crisis. No water left and no food. Sun burnt. Feel like climbing over the fence and throwing myself on the mercy of the nearest farmer.

View from his seat.

And again – other side – and I hear the honking of a seal. Jump up to have a look. Missed him but at least I’m going again.

I can see the village. Getting closer.

Even the seagulls have had enough.

Just in time – a seat. Well two.

One set of owners.

And the other. I thought that the suffix ‘veg’ meant farm which would have been nice, but it means finger – relating to the bits of land sticking out into the sea.

Their view and my destination. I thought, I can make it, keep going, But…

The path turned inland for about a mile. Which meant a mile back to the sea. Down below the cliff tops this sheltered glen is a haven for oak trees.

I’ve reached the upstream river crossing and my feet and legs have just about had it, but I’ve got to get back to the sea.

It’s a pretty place though.

The swans are swanning about. ‘What are you up to mate?’

The central hills again.

Weird concentric rocks. Behind them the boulders dumped to stop the airport runway extension eroding.

Some are massive. One more bay to go and every step is being hammered into my bones.

Across the bay you can see the sixties style hotel that is the finishing point. A cold glass of non-beer while I wait for a taxi. Just 2 more miles to go.

The battle of Ronald’s Way by the airport.