It's years since I walked round Laxey. It has a beautiful situation. Behind are mountains, in front is the sea, and the village tumbles helter-skelter down a steepish glen to meet a little beach and harbour.

Its past as a mining hub -- the Great Laxey Mine, from which lead and zinc were extracted, was by the mid-1870s one of the most prosperous and successful mines in Britain -- has now been transformed into picturesque "heritage".











The Saturday crowds were out, despite the brisk wind, and the places on the little prom were doing a good trade.


Back up at the level of the main road, we followed the Laxey Glen up to the old mine workings:





In the Valley Gardens you can see another waterwheel, which once served the Snaefell Mine. This one has been named the Lady Evelyn:



Another of Laxey's treasures is the site known as King Orry's Grave. This is the largest known megalithic tomb on the Island, dating back some 4,000 years. It has nothing whatsoever to do with King Orry (King Godred of Crovan, who took control of the Isle of Man in 1079), and it's actually two sites, separated by the road. But it's very beautiful:





There are a gazillion and one walking possibilities radiating out from Laxey, so maybe we'll stay in this area next time...

That was Saturday. Today, Tuesday, we went to the far north... One of the pleasures of this visit has been spending more time in Ramsey. We didn't go to Ramsey that often when I was a child. Seventeen-odd miles distant, it was judged to be a long way, and anyway, my parents preferred the south.

Even more of a long way -- not only north of Ramsey, but the most northerly tip of the Island -- is the Point of Ayre.

Another cold day. Every wind that blows probably licks the Point of Ayre, and you definitely needed to keep moving. But there's undeniably a beauty to the bleakness:







From here we motored back to Bride, primarily to visit the church of St Brigid. Whereas the original church dated back to around 1200, the current version was rebuilt and consecrated in 1876:



I'm a big admirer of Saint Brigid, who definitely sounds as though she was feisty:


This church is another that's notable for its medieval stone crosses. I'm woefully under-informed about these artefacts, and they're not easy to photograph (our pics of the Adam and Eve Stone didn't turn out at all). Here are some pictures to be going on with. Otherwise, it's a little project for next time...




But there's lots else that's attractive here:




From Bride we headed to Jurby, where there's another fascinating church.

Again, there are ancient crosses:


And it's a very atmospheric place of worship:





There's also an interesting World War II history: "In 1937, with the imminent threat of war, the Air Ministry chose Jurby as an ideal location for an airfield and bombing training station, and RAF Station Jurby and RAF Station Jurby Head opened in 1939. By its very nature as a training station for navigators, bombers and air gunners there were a large number of accidents, many occurring on or around the airfield. There were also accidents in other parts of the Island involving Jurby-based aircraft, and others when bombers from other stations were training on the Jurby bombing ranges. The war graves in the churchyard remember just some of those who died."




On a slightly comic note, we got stuck in the porch at Jurby church... When we arrived, we'd notice that the door was slightly ajar (which explained the glacial temperatures). Being good citizens, we closed the door after us. And then couldn't open it... "Who do you call when you're trapped in a church?" we wondered... But eventually brute force prevailed, and we headed for Peel, to warm up with some tea from the kiosk on the prom.