On and Off the Bus

The four main towns in the country are Douglas, Ramsey, Peel, and Castletown, and my goal is visit all of them before I leave.  Saturday started off sunny, so I jumped on one of the island buses and headed for Ramsey on the north end of the island. 

Douglas Borough Cemetery:  Before I got out of Douglas, however, we passed a huge and ornate cemetery, so I had to jump off and go exploring.  (All day bus passes are liberating, aren’t they?  They let you be spontaneous.)  This was not an old cemetery (a bit more than a century in age), but it reflected the culture of the island perfectly, especially the motor culture.  There were the graves of those who had died competing in the TT or MOP (Manx Grand Prix) races:  most very young, but all “living their dreams.”  Tear-jerker messages on the headstones perpetuated their memories:  The Pesky Kid, for instance, “died tragically living his dream, gone from our home but never our hearts.”  He was 21.  Lee David Pullman was killed at 25:  “He lived, he loved, he laughed.”  Both headstones, and many more, carried the etchings of their bikes.   “One of the greatest risks is never daring to risk,” was the motto on the memorial wall that seemed to capture the view of what it means to live in the motorsports capital of the UK, and maybe a good motto for life.  The Douglas Borough Cemetery certainly provided an ideal venue for thinking about the push of governments all over the world to make life risk-free by regulating every aspect of being alive.  Without risk, though, would life be any fun?   Should we be given the right to manage our own risks, or should governments intervene and do it for us?  In today’s world, nothing seems like it will attract funds more easily than promising people that their governments will keep them safe.  So, why did Man become such a motor mecca?  In the early 20^th century when internal combustion engines first began to give people automobility, the authorities in the UK began to establish speed limits on roads.  The Isle of Man operated under its own authority and chose not to go along with the decision.

A Manxman:  I had yet to meet a Manxman.  But right outside the cemetery I saw man wearing a hat, which I had to take a picture of.  That hat was on the head of Allan Looney, a life-long resident of the island.  He spoke only a few words of Manx because the language was suppressed when he was growing up.  He was glad to see the push to bring it back, however.  He was proud of his name, Looney, a Manx name and asked me if I remembered an American by that name:  Shelley Looney.  She had medaled twice in ice hockey at the winter Olympics.  The Manx are everywhere!  But today, the island attracts many Brits and, interestingly, returning Brits from southern Africa (met several from South Africa and Zambia).

Ramsey:  By the time I got to the north end of the island, it was raining.   The lesson:  take your umbrella everywhere because this is the typical weather pattern of the British Isles.  I hadn’t, so I dodged the sprinkles for hours as I tromped around town.  I met a bowling pin I couldn’t resist talking to.  He was directing people to the new bowling alley that was having its opening day.  I should go, he said.  So, I did.  In fact, I had a hamburger there.  The building used to house the town swimming pool, but a new pool had been built.  After standing empty, the old natatorium was finally converted into a bowling alley and recreation center. 

After Ramsey, still raining, I caught the bus to Peel, just in time to catch the end of the Manx Telecom Rally.

Geographically yours,

D.J.Z.