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(or, How We Had Fun in the Middle of the Irish Sea) In these
benighted islands of ours there is a sign consisting of a white disc with a diagonal
black stripe which signifies, we are now told, “The National Speed Limit” – as
though this was some precious heirloom of nationhood. On a small island in the middle of the Irish Sea, the same sign
means “There is NO speed limit”. As
keen motorists we rather prefer the second definition… It all
started late last year when Messrs. Clarkson, Hammond and May (of Top Gear
fame) were seen to be exercising some suitably rapid motors on derestricted
roads amidst the enticing scenery of the Isle of Man. The programme caused a flurry of postings on
Team GTM’s discussion forum, and a tentative plan was made to organise a mass
exodus, albeit only temporary, from the home of the National Speed Limit to a
rather more hospitable land, where really rapid motoring is considered to be
neither a crime nor an opportunity to raise even more tax revenue from the poor
(and getting poorer!) motorist.
What with school half-term
holidays, the Grand National, and the Friday evening rush-hour, we were pleased
to have made it to the docks in time for the SeaCat crossing to the Isle of
Man. Well, we nearly all made it – with
five of the six cars loaded on the high-speed ferry’s car-deck, and while
standing on the upper deck admiring the city’s impressive skyline, we received
a desperate phone call from the missing couple – “Where’s the ferry dock!”,
they cried. Scorning helpful answers
such as “Next to the ferry!”, we attempted to guide our lost chums through the
Liverpool traffic and confusingly signed roads – we could hear the unmistakable
sound of a GTM Libra’s engine being given a moderately severe workout, both on
the phone, and echoing through the Mersey-side streets. Finally, a brief flash of red, and the
errant car races onto the dock access road…
“Turn right NOW!” is shouted into the mobile phone, and the car careers
into the ferry loading area, with a scant fifteen minutes to spare before the
“SuperSeaCat 2” (such a romantic name…) was due to sail. Sadly all was in vain, as the ferry company
refused to allow our chums to board – drat!
If you go to the Isle of Man, please remember this salutary lesson – you
will need to be checked-in rather more than fifteen minutes before
departure! It saves a lot of
disappointment but, on the other hand, you might then miss the unalloyed joy of
a night at the Burtonwood service area on the M62 westbound, which were
promptly christened “The Services That Time Forgot” by our party when we met up
at them for coffee earlier that day.
The décor of these services should, in our humble opinion, be the subject
of a preservation order at the very least, or form the pattern for a number of
trendily retro refurbishments of other service areas around the country. After an
unbelievably smooth crossing to Douglas travelling at about 40 m.p.h. (which
makes for a remarkably draughty “Smoking” area on deck!) we debarked from the
ferry and assembled to drive the final few miles to the Mount Murray Hotel.
The
land of the National Speed Limit is left in our wake. With only
a modicum of confusion – directions for the hotel simply stated “Leave the
docks and turn left…” – we sorted ourselves out and set off for the hotel. Arriving at just before ten, we were told
that, sadly, the hotel restaurant had closed at nine-thirty, but that
“bar-meals” were available in… surprise, surprise, the hotel’s bar. Given that motoring was finished for the
day, Team GTM’s members had no significant problem with the idea of spending
some time there! Ordering a variety of
the aforementioned bar “snacks”, it soon became apparent that we were unlikely
to lose any weight while staying at the Mount Murray, even if we made full use
of the impressive swimming pool, golf course or any of the many health club
facilities to which we had free access as guests. One of our number, having decided that a burger would make a
modest evening snack, was startled to discover a truly enormous meal, of such
proportions that we were sure there was a small team of climbers attempting to
establish base-camp halfway up the north face of the bun… Suitably
stuffed with this excellent meal (the steak and ale pie was particularly
good!), we headed off to our various rooms.
The Mount Murray is, granted, a four-star hotel but even so, the rooms
were extremely spacious, very well furnished and most comfortable. After a sound night’s sleep the party
assembled for breakfast in the main dining room, which has glorious views over
the surrounding countryside. Breakfast
did little to dispel our impression of the catering standards after the
previous evening’s meal – the “full cooked Manx breakfast” was selected by a
number of hardy souls who then disappeared for some time behind a massive
collation of goodies, while other’s went for the Eggs Benedict which were
equally as impressive. With cholesterol
levels suitably heightened, we started to discuss what were our plans for the
day.
An example
of the scenery available to keep drivers from becoming bored. In true
Team GTM fashion, although ferry and hotel bookings had been organised by the
club, not a moment’s effort had been spent on planning an itinerary for the two
full days we were to be on the island!
Actually, this worked out rather well (phew!), as various combinations
of cars and people teamed up during the weekend to explore different bits of
the island’s roads and scenery, with meetings throughout the weekend, strangely
enough centred about feeding times…
notes would then be exchanged along the lines of, “The A36 is a terrific
blast!”, and other drivers would hare off to check it out. The island is barely 30 miles long and ten
miles wide, but boasts around 680 miles of roads. It’s compact size makes it ideal for “distributed exploration” –
it’s a new technique where you equip a number of vehicles with mobile-phones (a
co-driver’s handy to act as communications officer), and then hurtle off in
four different directions. The IoM is
small enough, so that even if half the cars are at the north end of the island,
it won’t take more than thirty minutes or so to join up with someone at the
south end – and the chances are you’ll discover yet more entertaining roads on
the way!
You don’t need
one of these to enjoy the Isle of Man – but it helps! Naturally,
there was considerable interest in driving the IoM TT course – this proved to
be fabulously simple to do, as the helpful Manxmen (or should that be
“Personxpersons”?) post highly noticeable orange signs to show significant
corners on the route, the kerbs are marked out with alternate black and white
markings, and all the manhole covers which are likely to prove of more than
moderate interest to a motorcyclist travelling at three figure speeds, are
spray-painted yellow with a corresponding yellow flash on the adjacent kerb or
pavement. It’s quite strange driving
along town streets, with all the usual urban furniture, and seeing these other
markings more normally associated with racetracks! Starting from Douglas, you need to take the A1 signposted towards
Peel. This first section, heading east
across the island has a couple of de-restricted stretches, but is mostly
speed-limited. Some fine scenery to
enjoy, nonetheless. After passing
through the village of Greeba, you will turn right at a cross-roads onto the
A3, passing through Kirk Michael, Ballaugh and Sulby. The road heads on towards Ramsey by way of Churchtown. The TT course runs briefly through the
outskirts of Ramsey (pretty town, with an impressive parade of Victorian
properties on the seafront), and leaving Ramsey on the A18 it then starts the
rapid climb past Dreemskerry on the left, an imposing 561m mountain overlooking
Ramsey, and then on to Snaefell itself which at 620m (that’s 2,030 feet) is
even more impressive. The A18 then
descends through more wonderful scenery over the next few miles, depositing you
back in Douglas.
Speed
limits do have their uses – when travelling slowly past sights like this, for
example… The Isle
of Man does have speed limits, of course, and these are rigorously enforced by
the local constabulary – the limits are, however, sensibly applied to populated
areas. Once away from these, our
favourite road sign appears, and a selection of GTM Libras were then let off
their leashes. It’s hard to describe
the feeling of actually being allowed to drive your car at a speed YOU decide
is safe – instead of sitting in your car with little or no interest in the
surroundings as you drone along at 70 m.p.h., all of a sudden you really have
to pay attention to the road surface and conditions. Visibility to the next corner, other traffic, and (on the open
roads in the centre of the island) the ability to see traffic approaching around
the next two bends, all have to be factored into the constant assessment of
what is fast enough for fun, but not too fast for safety. What a joy to be allowed to make these
decisions for oneself – I completely despise the current mantra “Speed Kills”… if this is true then every Concorde
passenger should have been dead on arrival!
Speed does not kill – coming to a very violent stop is usually what does
it. We spoke to a member of the
constabulary at one point (no, none of us had been “pulled” for anything!) and
asked how the wonderful Manx driving offence of “driving furiously” was to be
interpreted. We were told that passing
a police car at 140 m.p.h. up Snaefell would only attract the attention of said
police car if it was clear that the car and/or driver were clearly out of
control – the phrase “serious opposite-lock” was mentioned, which rather
suggested to us that this had been observed by said police officer! What an enlightened (or, perhaps, old-fashioned?)
place! The
sharp-eyed amongst you will have noticed that this article is entitled “Team
GTM’s First Birthday Party” – and those of you that have read it once may have
wondered why there appeared to be no mention of the celebratory aspect of our
little excursion. This has nothing to
do with the memory problems sometimes associated with the over-enjoyment of grape
related products, though on the Saturday evening there were certain tell-tale
signs that this might become an issue, but is simply due to the fact that I
forgot to write about it, having become so excited that I’d actually managed to
get this page on the website, and working!
So, gentle reader, on with the party! As mentioned
earlier, we had already discovered that the food at the Mount Murray was notably
more than just acceptable. After Saturday’s
thoroughly enjoyable thrash around quite a lot of the island, together with all
that fresh sea air, there was no dissension at all when the hotel was selected
as the venue for the “official” birthday dinner. We were all feeling very relaxed, using the hotel’s facilities for
dinner meant no further driving, which naturally meant that some drinking might
occur, and our respective sleeping accommodations were all within M.S.D.
(Maximum Staggering Distance). One of
our number had brought a modest quantity of fizzy with them (well, it was me
actually, but I don’t want to boast!), so the eleven explorers foregathered in
my hotel room for a celebratory glass or two before heading off to the hotel’s
restaurant. I might have brought the
wine, but I hadn’t brought (or, be honest, got) eleven champagne glasses. Off to reception I go, therefore,
respectfully to ask whether I might have some glasses that evening. “No problem, sir” is the prompt response and
shortly afterwards a tray arrives with the glasses on a nice doily, together
with two filled ice-buckets to chill the hooch. Just got to get them to my room, right? Saturday
was a breezy day, and the guest bedrooms at the Mount Murray are in a separate
block from the reception, bar and restaurant areas – nice touch, as guests are
not then disturbed by rowdy parties in the bar (just as well…). Why is the wind significant? Well it nearly blew the champagne flutes off
the tray when we were crossing to the rooms!
With somebody holding the glasses on the tray, while walking backwards,
I managed to get them to the room… ah,
but the keycard’s in my pocket… hand tray
to helpful assistant, open room door, assistant knocks tray against something,
and three glasses are now in pieces on the carpet! The room-cleaning crew are nearby, and they immediately vacuum up
the broken glass, and seeing that we were about to head off out for further motoring
and sight-seeing, they immediately offer to have three replacement glasses
delivered to the room – top service, I have to say! Having made
use, later that day, of the glasses, we all trooped off to the restaurant. Herculean portions of starters, main courses
and deserts were then ordered, delivered and consumed, washed down by
moderately heroic quantities of wine.
To our astonishment this excellent meal with the wine, came to around
£36 a head. Our waiters and waitresses
were efficient, polite and friendly, each succeeding course arrived neither too
early nor too late, and the dinner-table conversation, wit and humour was
non-stop. I can’t easily remember a meal
I’ve enjoyed more. We then decamped to
the bar, next door (I mean, that’s really making it difficult for people!), and
coffee and the occasional liqueur were happily consumed until sometime after
two in the morning. A good night’s
sleep proved strangely easy to achieve! The
weather was brighter on Sunday, though there was still a blustery wind to
contend with, and after a restorative breakfast (first course, several cups of
good coffee!) people hared off around the island again, finding further areas
for vehicular entertainment…
Breathtaking countryside,
entertainingly twisty roads, a spot of sunshine and a couple of sportscars –
doesn’t get much better than this! As if all
this unaccustomed responsibility and freedom wasn’t enough, there’s the superb
scenery of the island to enjoy. Without
wishing to upset residents from other parts of the UK, the Isle of Man manages
to contain examples of just about every type of beautiful scenery to be found
in the whole of Devon and Cornwall, with a bit of the Scottish Highlands thrown
in for good measure. Driving around the
TT course, even the keenest driver was entertained by the never-ending parade
of picturesque villages, wonderful views, and leafy, tree-lined roads. Culled
from the memories of the group, we can thoroughly recommend the A36 road in the
south-west corner of the island from Foxdale towards Port St Mary – wonderful
twisty bits with some truly challenging corners, interspersed with the
occasional half-mile straight, and all set in fabulous moorland countryside and
with very little traffic. The road
finishes off with a descent towards Port St Mary with truly breathtaking views
out to sea. The B10
road from the wonderfully named village of Bungalow heads west through some of
the wildest country on the island. It’s
barely trafficked, but has a very bumpy surface, and is one of the few
un-fenced country roads on the island.
It looked like a candidate for the most fun driving on the island, but
the surface was too rough to be honest, and there’s also the possibility of
unintended (vehicular) contact with a sheep – doesn’t matter, however, as the
surrounding views make it well worth driving along quite slowly.
A Libra enjoying the view of the
castle in obscurely-named Castletown in the south of the island. The A36
proved to be a wonderful “find” – the road surface is a little bumpier than one
might expect from the route’s designation as an “A” road, and my GTM Libra V6
was certainly keeping me well-informed of the surface irregularities, but
heading for the next tight corner at more than 100+ m.p.h. knowing that I was
going to require some serious efforts from the brakes if the car was going to
make it around that corner was a huge thrill.
I guess this could be the challenge of driving in the IoM – yes the
opportunity is there to drive at high speeds, but always within the abilities
of the car, its driver, the visibility, and the road surface… not to mention avoiding heavy contact with
the nice scenery!! The part
of the TT route from Ramsey in the north, along the A18 through Bungalow and
then on to Douglas includes the famous (infamous?) Snaefell ascent and
descent. Once again, the scenery is
magical but as this is the major road between the two largest towns on the
island, the traffic can at times be a hindrance. It’s such a good road, however, that we all drove it two or three
times and everyone got at least one clear run at it. It’s brilliant, absolutely amazing, fantastic fun – the good road
surface and clear warnings of the worst bends, together with the ability to see
traffic two or three bends away round the mountain make it a candidate for one
of the best drives in the UK. It’s at
least as good as the A68 in the Northumberland National Park, which has long
been regarded as one of the best driving roads in England, certainly. (So, that’ll be another one festooned with
pointless speed-limits and Gatsos, then.) How much
did all this cost? We arranged our
bookings through the extraordinarily helpful people at Isle of Man Travel
Services. They were able to put
together a package for three nights at the Mount Murray Hotel and Country Club
with the ferry crossings for £382 for a car and two adults, leaving Liverpool
on the Friday evening, and returning (early, very early!) on the Monday
morning. There are two car-ferry departures
every day from Liverpool (and Heysham to the north), and two returns from
Douglas to either start point. The
Douglas departures are early morning or in the evening. There are cheaper hotels on the island, but
the Mount Murray was excellent – in particular the staff were unfailingly
polite, friendly and helpful – and the food was awfully good (and reasonably
priced!).
A fine example of a typical IoM main road – note the high traffic levels… Saturday
night’s dinner had proved so popular with one and all, that our presence in the
restaurant on Sunday evening required no discussion whatsoever! A slightly less hedonistic dinner ensued, as
looming in everybody’s minds was the unhappy thought of being on the ferry quay
at around 6:00 am the next morning.
Obviously the ferry times are arranged to suit those with jobs on the
mainland… we motourists (just invented
that word!) have to fit in with this as best we can. So, no calorie-bomb of a breakfast on Monday morning, just a
large pot of strong coffee, and a night manager who had noted our requests on
Sunday night, under the heading of “nine p*ssed-off people” – he also had
agreed not to be unreasonably chirpy at five-thirty in the
morning, as we’d neither expect it nor appreciate it! Grumpily we trudged to our cars in the early morning gloom, and
headed back into Douglas for the ferry quay.
Everybody got on the ferry at the same time, this time, but there were
certainly one or two who wondered at the wisdom of this – wind-speeds of 25-30
knots were the order of the day, and the catamaran ferry ploughed it’s way across
the Irish Sea to Liverpool at 30 knots, with wind and sea “on the beam” if you’ll
pardon the nautical-ness… result, a
rather more than lively trip back to Liverpool! The “smoking” deck at the rear of the ferry was remarkably busy,
though not necessarily with just those of the smoking persuasion! Top-tip, incidentally, if you’re not
a good sailor, is to make sure that you give yourself a fixed visual reference –
the horizon is about the only reliable one at sea when it’s rough. Mal-de-mer is
usually due to the brain’s confusion between the messages it’s receiving from
the inner ear (specifically the semi-circular canals that provide balance information),
and those it receives from the eyes, which tell it that walls are vertical and
floors are horizontal – when the boat’s moving, the eyes don’t
have it when focussed on the interior of the vessel. So, there you go – twenty-five years working at sea wasn’t
entirely wasted… I’d love
to go back to the IoM again because I didn’t get to see some of the sights for
which the island is famous, and I want to have another couple of days enjoying
the freedom of the open roads. Top all
that off with the friendly locals – everyone on our group commented on this
aspect, incidentally – and it’s an ideal location for a weekend’s motoring
pleasure. On the subject of friendly
locals, in general we saw forgotten levels of courtesy and road-sense. If, driving quickly, one encountered a
slower (local) car, invariably they would indicate a left turn and tuck tightly
into the kerb or verge, then they would slow fractionally to make your
overtaking safer and faster – I honestly can’t remember the last time that
happened to me “on the mainland” (apart from trackdays, and not always then!). Little old ladies running village filling
stations would engage us in conversation for ages regarding the Libra, asking
us if were we enjoying the island’s hospitality (oh yes!), and had we been
taking advantage of the local roads (oh definitely yes!!). I’d have to say that if you’re the shy
retiring type, and own a specialist car (an unlikely combination I’ll admit)
then you might find the levels of public interest in your trusty steed to be a
bit overpowering – if on the other hand you enjoy such public adulation, that’d
be another sound reason for heading for the middle of the Irish Sea. Team GTM
set up this weekend break because we did not want the club to be only of
interest to the extreme petrol-head fraternity – building and enjoying a
kit-car, let’s be honest, can be the cause of varying levels of, er, domestic
strife, shall we say? Whilst the
building part of the experience can be a solitary pursuit, the enjoying
bit can easily be a team effort. As the
organiser of our weekend in the Isle of Man, I have therefore been delighted to
discover that the whole escapade was just as popular with the ladies as it was
with us motoring fools.
Not the
best cornering line, perhaps? Actually
this is a case of the scenery overcoming the desire to hurtle around the
excellent roads. Whilst no
car club in its right mind would set up as relationship counsellors, it was
good to discover that the girls had as much fun as we did – nothing whatsoever
to do with VAT-free shopping, a luxuriously comfortable hotel, and top quality
food and drink, of course! One of our
number, still in the throws of building his GTM Spyder, phoned me the day after
we all returned home, and was delighted to note that the weekend had proven so
popular with his partner, that he had now garnered significant extra “garage
points” – I understand this to be a system where certain behaviours, etc., are
rewarded with a modest increase in allowable garage time. Being a sensible fellow I will not attempt
to write “from the women’s viewpoint”, as I’ve never understood it that
well… so here’s some comments from one
of “the other halves”… “The island was gorgeous. The hotel was fabulous. The cars… well as a person who describes
cars by their colour, having no knowledge or interest in anything beyond that,
I was surprised to find myself enjoying travelling in convoy with the other
Libræ. The expressions of pedestrians
and drivers alike as the trio passed never ceased to amaze me.
View from
the A18 north of Snaefell, looking further north to Ramsey – in cloudy
weather. The warning board at the start
of the ascent had just stopped advertising “Fog on Mountain Road”. “Travelling
as a passenger on the TT course was an experience, one that will require a trip
to the hairdressers to address the grey (it’s not distinguished – it’s just
grey!). I was not interested in knowing
the speed at which we were hurtling up the hill (that’d be Snaefell, then?) but
rather gazed out the window, thinking happy thoughts whilst humming to myself
but will admit to closing my eyes at one point when I simply could not look! “For me
the best part of the IOM trip was meeting the Team GTM crowd and the ‘kit
widows’. It was therapeutic to speak to
people, like me, who often find themselves without their partners as they are
either in the garage working on the car, reading magazines about the car, or on
the computer sending messages about the car.
Those interested in building and driving the cars actually turned out to
be an interesting bunch who even managed to have conversations about many
different topics OTHER THAN CARS!!! Well, imagine my relief. Jessica.” A brief stop on the A36, descending
towards Port St Mary. We took
the opportunity to get some video of a particularly entertaining corner on the
A36. Gareth Cole’s car, with on-board
camera, chased Greg Stark’s while Dudley Shearman was positioned at the
corner’s apex. Brilliantly organised,
apart from one tiny oversight. You see,
the corner was a tight, off-camber 90° climbing left to a crest… and none of us thought to check what was after
said crest. Result? Exiting the corner, flat out in third gear
(about 85 m.p.h. and climbing!) I rocket over the crest to find that the road
performs a completely unheralded 90° right. We stopped shortly afterwards to turn around
for a run in the opposite direction – Gareth was helpless with laughter (some
half a mile or more after the “incident”) from watching my antics as I
desperately tried to leave the nice dry-stone wall alone… I’ve since viewed the video, and if it looks
hectic from outside the car, it’s a pale shadow of what was going on inside the
car! Jessica
Linville raises a good point about convoy driving – it’s really quite funny if
you’re third in line as you pass other vehicles… I can now lip-read “Good grief, there’s another
one!”, “Dad, DAD!! Can we catch them up!!” (Usually followed by
something from the front-seat passenger, along the lines of “You’d better
not!”). As if the
public roads weren’t entertainment enough, there is also a race-track on the
island! We’ve got the organiser’s
telephone number, and if (when!) we do another IoM trip, we’ll see if we can’t
include some time there. Those of
you who’ve been to the IoM will have read all this with a tolerant and
understanding smile (I hope!), but for those who’ve not yet been I have only
one piece of advice… Get on that ferry
as soon as you can!! |
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