Gef Took The New Peel-to-Sound Bus So You Don’t Have To (But You Probably Should)

This morning, I boarded a bus.

Not just any bus, the brand-new, shiny silver 8S, snaking its way from Peel all the way down to The Sound via some of the most glorious bits of the Isle of Man.

A scenic voyage of connectivity and coastal glory. And me? I was there as media. That’s right. Official lanyard and everything.

Now, I’ll admit, I did delay the bus from leaving Peel Town Hall by a minute or two while I faffed about getting on.

The Government comms person gave me the look (you know the one) but it was all fine once I took a comfy seat and settled in for the ride. Southward ho!

First stop: St John’s.

The Tynwald Inn, half pub, half shop, was fully tempting. Yes I know it was 10am.

But let’s be honest, if the DoI Minister Michelle Haywood and I had shared a pint over a chinwag about island issues (not that anything in particular springs to mind), it might’ve added a certain sparkle to the service.

A car whooshed past Tynwald Hill at a daring 24mph, causing Haywood to jolt upright like a meerkat, clearly still on high alert for anyone breaching the island’s increasingly controversial 20mph rollout.

Next up: Foxdale.

I’ll admit, as Juan Watterson MHK, yes, Mr Speaker himself, cracked a few jokes, I briefly considered hurling myself out the emergency exit.

But I held strong, and we soon pulled up at the stop opposite the Baltic Inn, pub number two we didn’t go in, if you’re counting (I was).

More laughs, more winks, and onward we rolled.

Now listen, I love this new route.

It’s linking the south to the west in a way we haven’t seen for yonks. It’s genuinely good stuff.

But, and it’s a moderately-sized but, where are the evening services?

It’s all a bit ‘last bus leaves before 5pm’, which is fine for day trippers and pensioners, but what about those of us who enjoy a dusk pint and a pub quiz?

Missed trick, folks. But hey, day drinking it is.

Castletown came and went, with too many pubs to list.

I considered speaking up – ‘Shouldn’t we nip in, for journalism?’ but bottled it. Coward.

Then Port Erin. We literally stopped outside The Haven. THE HAVEN.

A cold one on a sunny morning would’ve been a chef’s kiss addition to the day, but sadly, no lager appeared.

By the time we hit Port St Mary and rolled into Cregneash, I was fully in love.

The views? Stunning. The village? Glorious. The Sound? Sublime.

I took plenty of photos and videos, but they don’t do it justice.

A few café-goers peered out, probably thinking the bus was some kind of rare bird. But no, it’s back, baby.

On the journey back, waving off passengers like a steam train conductor, I realised something: this bus matters.

It’s not just about tourism, it’s for locals who’ve been cut off for too long. The Save Our Cregneash Bus campaigners? Take a bow.

Now it’s over to Government and Manx National Heritage: advertise this thing properly. Because if we don’t use it, well, you know how that ends.