Climbing out of Laxey in the rain. I feel good and I’m making great progress.

Now this is sensible talk. ‘At your own risk…’ You know bits are going to be bad.

Near the top of the hill, this. Very sensible folks about here.

What is this? A new companion? I thought it was a dog coming towards me at first.

Herbie the hare leading the way. He’s a bit fast for me.

The Dick Lake. The guy at reception asked me where I was going today and he said, ‘Oh, up past The Dick Lake.’

I can see what he means. I tramped through the head.

Wee Dorothy does some nice work on her bridges.

Another old glen. Last one on this section so hurrah!

An ancient stone hut?

Nope an ancient Lime Kiln. The little electric tram climbs up the hill out of the glen here.

The sea. Probably too far from the beach for the gay dolphin to get me.

Looking back towards Laxey. You can see the train tracks rounding the hill.

I’m out and on a nice public path. Shame it is caught up in this obsession with being as close to the edge as possible.

Douglas in the distance.

Let’s head to the cliff edge again, for a laugh. One of the ball-clenchers is around the corner.

Some big houses. They take as much room as they can for their gardens, leaving very little for the path. This

guy’s having a laugh with his fake sheep.

Getting closer. I’ll be glad to get out of the rain. A nice bit with a rail. Unnecessary in my view as we are a few metres from danger. Could have done with it up at the sheep.

I’m there, but not. I’ve the whole of the bay to traverse.

At the other end of the bay. Still raining but it has been a nice day.

The road up to Douglas head on the right. I don’t think I’ll climb it again.

It’s over but it’s not, face. What would I say to my younger self here that sunny Tuesday morning? Certainly, ‘Go the other direction to the Point of Ayre.’ This was to be my finish but there’s more to do. I reckon I’ve only got 4 hours tomorrow – it’s not enough. Bus back to hotel and a long soak. Loving the bath these days.

I got the bus to Glen Maye instead and ate a few pills. Not good. Anyway, old Clive turned up for a fond farewell. Still striding out in style.

First place in the Goat marathon from the other day. Posing for the paps.

A wonder. In just a few seconds the rain has gone, and I can see! I remember those hills.

The sheep dig a warm cave under the gorse. Wonder where she is?

There she is. Looking sketchy. Is it lucky when a black sheep crosses your path?

Ah! A secret liaison outside the farm with one of those dreaded cliff loving rams.

A bit stuck up if you ask me. Couldn’t get a word out of them. Is it just me or she naked – top half?

Really hoping this is the last bit of cliff edge trekking.

Sheep couldn’t care less. Offspring of that ram no doubt.

Just that last hill. Come on, keep going.

Looking back. The rain is coming again.

Peel below, and in the far distance the shores of sorrow from yesterday.

The Norman fort. Wonder if he’s in?

The dam has broken – run for your lives!

Peel promenade bench – Pride style.

Out the other side and climbing away from Peel. Pushing on. Somebody stop me! Please.

Peel long gone and I’m on the cliffs again. That’ll teach me.

A glen going untravelled. Bliss. Heading out to the road. Just as I got there, bus appeared, and even though I was ten mins at least from the next stop  Bussy stopped and picked me up. Big up the Manx bus drivers.