Leaving Port Erin again going anti-clockwise for a change. Need it to stay dry today.

The hills ahead. Very strange walking in this direction with the upslope to my left and the pressure on the feet and ankles the opposite way round.

Looking back to the tower from yesterday as the path starts along the cliff tops again.

The dreaded rut and Port Erin in the background.

Getting up there again. That is not a pole it is my shadow.

First hill conquered and the hills ahead.

If the path takes me down into that I’m calling the lifeboat to come and take me off (As if there’d be phone service down there). This anti-clockwise was a mistake. I’ve not started well. A big climb first thing and haven’t got my second wind yet. Strange phallic shaped shadow.

It was just me with the sun at a weird angle. My old aerobic engine has now kicked in and I’m feeling good. A bit of precious, flattish, trail always helps. looking back at first hill.

The trail ahead looking towards that hill. Loving the nice wide grassy bits.

Aha! It’s an island. The Calf of Man to be exact and I won’t be swimming out to it.

Loosing height, which I’ve come to love dearly, down towards these breasty looking humps.

There’s is a strange climate in the lee of the cliffs. Warm and humid with very little wind, and where the forests of ferns grow, the walkers most dreaded enemy emerges – midges!

This is actually a slow stampede of cattle all suddenly taking flight towards a point ahead of me. Apart from one brownish mother on the right “Crisis? What Crisis? Where are you all going? Oh! What a tasty piece of grass.’ As her calf’s about to headbutt her in the udder, distracted by my appearance.

Calf of Man and people (said with disgust). You can see the currents created as the tide flows through the gap. I should have been at the stile on the extreme far right but decided to stay high in this field only to have a steep descent at the end anyway. Back down to the old sea level.

I know. You can’t read the plaque. After being disgruntled at having to come down, I couldn’t be arsed going any closer.

Part of the way up the hills again, this appears? Twee, overly-positive philosophy makes it to new heights. Well, at least they had to hump everything up here by hand, including the concrete. Which they painted green to blend in – how nice.

A tight crevice.

I’ve turned eastwards, and now have these new cliffs in front of me.

Up this to start, boot dug, mud stairs.

I’m up all that, with a bit more to go to the very top.

This bring your own stone madness is spreading (by tradition I must add to it). Top of the cliffs looking due south.

I’ve been making good time today, so have made a small detour to have a cup of tea at this working museum.

No. I’ve no idea either.

She’s not a mannikin. She just dresses like one.

A lovely sit down. then back up that road to the cliffs.

I’ve zoomed in but the clouds are down over the hills of yesterday.

The only brown cow in the herd. She was giving me the eye until I tried to take her photo.

This is a pretty glen. Another micro climate, sheltered and warm. Shame I’m going the wrong way.

I’ve finally looked at my map and had to haul myself all the way back up the glen onto the right path. I’ve noticed that a lot of houses here proudly fly the Manx flag. Its like the 12th of July at home or any day in the Bogside. This, like the rest, at half mast today. RIP HM Elizabeth II.

Are they painting it yellow, or are they painting it grey?

His own little bridge to nowhere.

Down to sea level for the last time – I don’t mind on those occasions. Cliff tops in the distance looking back. By the way it was grey.

Who you gonna call? So nearly did.

Port St. Mary from the other side, and finished.

Satisfied and proud face.