By Mark Davison
The Sound Cafe, opposite The Calf Of Man, near Cregneash, Isle of Man
I SPENT the Bank Holiday weekend on the Isle of Man visiting some former Surrey friends who live in a remote 17th century farmhouse just yards from a coastal path.
They are soon to move to a "normal" family house on a smart housing estate next to a golf course, so if I was to see their rustic abode, I'd better act quickly.
Finding some reasonably priced tickets with EasyJet, now flying from Gatwick, I booked the trip just three weeks ago.
During my stay, the weather was kind, albeit a bit breezy, and at times the sun shone strongly enough to go out and about without an overcoat. I enjoyed morning strolls along the coastal path, marvelling at the expanse of Irish Sea shimmering in the spring sunshine.
On Sunday, I was taken by my friends to the most south-westerly point of the island opposite the Calf of Man.
On this tip of the island, there are awesome vistas of the unspoilt maritime scenery. The Calf of Man is an isle on which lives just one inhabitant, an ornithological observer whose task is to painlessly ring captured birds and release them so their movements can be plotted.
Once, this isle and the tempestuous sea between it and the main island, was home to a community of crofters and some monks. Since Victorian times it has chiefly been abandoned by civilisation but its wildlife is thriving. There can be found green tiger beetles, burrowing bees, the pill millipede and the chough, a member of the crow family.
We pulled up in the neat car park next to the modern cafe, the only building for miles around. Visitors were standing on the grass, gazing out to sea. One pointed out the seals on an islet just hundreds of yards away. The creatures were basking in the hazy spring sunshine on piles of rotting seaweed. Another tourist observed the bobbing head of a solitary seal in the water and soon, several people were looking in that direction.
After taking in the splendour of these natural surroundings, we climbed up to the restaurant and went inside. I was rather taken aback by how busy it was. Youngsters were pushing baked beans and sausages around dinner plates while older people were sitting silently, sipping coffee and enquiring of a waitress what the "cake of the day" was.
We studied a menu and I opted for a warm Niarbyl Bay fresh crab baguette together with a bowl of chips which turned out to be some of the crispiest and best I'd ever tasted.
A video showing the flora and fauna of the island was showing on one wall. The headings were also in the Manx language.
My Surrey friend said his children were learning Manx at school and "could count to ten".
Certainly, the road signs on the way to the tearoom were in both English and Manx.
A leaflet in the cafe includes a beginner's guide to Manx and readers could try saying a few phrases: Moghrey mie (Good morning); Kys t'ou (How are you?); Mie dy liooar (Well enough); and Goll as gaccan (Goin' 'n' grumblin').
The crab baguette arrived and I savoured every mouthful.
On the next table, a young family were having lunch and trying to dissuade their son from demanding chicken nuggets.
I sipped a cup of tea and stared out to sea. The video informed us that there had been 140 shipwrecks in 300 years on this dangerous stretch of water so feared by fishermen.
I got up to buy a nutty shortbread biscuit for afters and the man working behind the counter was a little exasperated.
He smiled and said: "A woman was pointing to the jars of cookies and said 'that one, please'. I told her I couldn't see where she was pointing, so she pointed again and I still couldn't see, so I asked her to describe it. AAAaaarghh!"
He laughed it off and served me my biscuit.
Back at the table, my friend was chuckling at the way one of the staff had called one of the junior staff boys "Chewbacca" after the Star Wars character because his hair was dishevelled and he hadn't shaved.
My friend informed me there were no squirrels, snakes, foxes, badgers or deer on the Isle of Man.
As he spoke, the video explained that the sea god, Manannan, regularly protects the Calf of Man with a cloak of mist. It went on to tell of the bygone smugglers and pirates who used the caves for their clandestine activities.
The conversation turned to the Fairy Bridge, near Santon.
"When you pass the Fairy Bridge, you have to say 'Hello fairies' . Everyone on the Isle of Man does that. If you don't you'll apparently suffer bad luck. Even taxi drivers say it.
"People who haven't said it have funny things happen to them – like getting a puncture a few yards further on."
I raised my eyebrows and perused the menu.
I could have had a burger made from Manx-reared Aberdeen Angus by Radcliffe's of Castletown.
It was time to carry on exploring the island.
One final glance at the nature video told me that the Manx Loaghtan is a breed of sheep native to the Isle of Man. It is characterised by a dark brown wool and usually has four or occasionally six horns.
