Sunday:

After my trip to Peel Castle, my new friends Ellie and Chris (two University of Liverpool archeology students, also housing at King William’s) decided to take the Isle of Man Steam Train down to Port Erin.

Yes, the Island still has a fully-functioning steam railway traveling from Douglas to Port Erin four times a day.

A cute red train, with comfy cabins.

I must say, steam trains are not the fastest form of transportation. They certainly are the most romantic, however. It seems as if there’s no interest in beautiful machines anymore. Today, mechanical beauty is synonymous with efficiency and practicality, not the ornate. Maybe it’s a good thing, but there’s nothing like a nice ride on a good, old steam train.

Port Erin is on the Southernmost tip of the Island, right near the small Calf of Man. Originally, Ellie, Chris and I planned to rent some kayaks and row to the Calf of Man. Unfortunately, there were gale-force winds coming in from Ireland.

I suppose the waves crashing up against the rocks was more dramatic in person?

We spotted a tower about a mile from where we stood at the shore. There didn’t seem to be any tourist attractions nearby, so the only thing left to do was to start walking.

We found this winding path along the sea…

We found a crumbling WWII bunker on the way, gun mounts still facing the sea. We decided to carry on instead of exploring the bunker further.

Across the wooden bridge…

Drawing closer to the mysterious tower…

Chris decided to take a break from walking to take a look at a 200 foot drop into the sea.

There wasn’t much to keep your footing (especially without proper hiking boots), but it was a nice place to take a 10-minute breather.

…And my camera ran out of batteries before we got to the tower.

The tower was giant, much taller than it looked from the distance, and it consisted of a single, spiral staircase that led to the tower’s roof. The tiny cracks between the stone made an eerie whistle as the wind rushed in from the South, and we could sea the gentle silhouette of Ireland against the mist. On the other side, the whole Island sprawled out below us. To our left, the Calf of Man sat quietly in the presence of the Island, and I suppose we never needed to rent a kayak in the first place.