Although I now live in the English/Welsh borders, I’m originally from the Isle of Man – a small island nation in the Irish Sea, roughly midway between England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, named after the sea god Manannan.
It was formed, if the myths are to be believed, when the Irish giant Finn McCool scooped up a mass of rock and hurled it at an escaping Scottish giant. The island has its own Celtic language, its own folklore and its own cast of mythical creatures – including the sprite-like Fenodyree, the ogre-like Buggane, the aquatic Glashtyn and the phantom black hound Moddey Dhoo.
Recently I went back to visit family and took a few photos while I was there. The little people play a large part in Manx mythology, and there’s a spot on one of the roads called the Fairy Bridge where locals will always say good morning or good evening when they drive by, for fear of incurring the wrath of themselves. On this visit, I also tracked down a less well-known spot that is, according to locals, the real Fairy Bridge, a hidden spot that has no signs or markings to help people find it, containing a bridge that doesn’t appear to actually go anywhere. I hope the fairies don’t mind me posting this picture of it.