Hopeful face. Back at the bus stop in Kirk Michael.

Old railway line path to start – nice and level.

Going down the last but one glen.

An alien monolith dropped from space or, the old bridge pylon.

The picnic tables here do come with a lunch option, you just have to reach out and snatch it.

You don’t say!

Back on the shore of sorrow, but only for a mile or so.

Much more pleasant with a gentle wind off my starboard quarter.

The way is blocked so leaving the beach forever. Peel in the distance.

Goodbye cruel desolation.

The MRCA gather for their morning prayer meeting. The two on the bottom right are colluding to bring down the current madam president. (Mother Rabbit Christian Association)

The way out of my last glen is by way of this helpful little bridge and a small tarmac road.

Another one. It just looks like it was dropped in the middle of nowhere.

The track is now grass which is lovely but still soaking from yesterday. The airport security folks are going to love my manky boots.

Peel. It is always nice to come round a bend and see the target that much closer.

Oh! No! Cliff Hugging Ram has sneaked down to the lowlands to get some strange and spread his evil genes even further.

Must have been tiny, tiny trains. No graffiti. The youts are too lazy to climb up this far.

A glen and we’re passing it by. Swoon!

Has a nice little beach though. Wonder if Sid’s about or if he’s too busy at work with Shelia.

OK, If you’re just going to stand and stare at me, I will get my camera out and take your portrait.

Still lovely grassy path. Feet adore it.

Where I came up from the cliffs yesterday. Raad ny Foillian complete. A bus just passed me 400 metres back and I was tempted to stop it and get on. But for the sake of an hour, I’d rather do the 400 metres and not let it haunt me.

Pride-in-the-completion face. Now, what will I do for an hour?

Walk some extra miles into Peel so as not to get cold and stiffen up.

The townees know how to protect their women sheep from the Cliff Hugging Ram, they keep them close and in jail.

A quick rain shower. Leaving Peel. Just time for a snap of St. James’s church in ruins. An allegory for the fate of all religions in my book. Loving the sneaky pride bench – must cheese off the vicar.