Ronaldsway Farm
Five thousand years of history beneath one of the most walked-over pieces of ground on the Island. From Neolithic settlement to Norse battlefield, from Illiam Dhone’s estate to wartime airfield — and the farm buildings that survived it all.
Roonysvaie
Ronaldsway sits in the parish of Malew, in the low southern plain of the Isle of Man between the village of Ballasalla and the old capital at Castletown. The name comes from the Old Norse — the personal name Rögnvaldr combined with vað (ford) or vágr (bay). It first appears in the Chronicle of Mann, when Óláfr landed here in 1224 to confront his half-brother Rögnvaldr for a share of the kingdom. The site was once a landing place for Castle Rushen and Castletown, and the ground itself has been continuously occupied for longer than almost anywhere else on the Island.
Today it is the Isle of Man Airport. Every visitor who arrives by air lands on ground that carries five millennia of layered history — Neolithic settlement, medieval battlefield, the estate of the Island’s most iconic political figure, and a Second World War naval air station. Most of them have no idea.
Five Thousand Years on One Piece of Ground
When the airport runway was being extended during the Second World War, construction workers uncovered a sunken-floored structure dating from the third millennium BC. The distinctive pottery, stone axes with roughened butts, and unusual flint tools found here were so particular to the Island that archaeologists named an entire Neolithic culture after the site. The Ronaldsway Culture is known only from the Isle of Man — its characteristic polished axes have been found nowhere else, evidence of a people who developed independently from those in Britain and Ireland. Later excavations by Oxford Archaeology uncovered a Mesolithic house — a seven-metre-diameter pit that once held a conical brushwood structure, containing twenty thousand struck flints and thousands of charred hazelnut shells. A time capsule, burned in place, preserving a snapshot of life within the dwelling.
On 7 October 1275, a Scottish fleet landed on St Michael’s Isle and sent terms to the Manx rebels: lay down your presumption and surrender to Alexander III. Guðrøðr Magnússon, the last Norse King of Mann, refused. Before dawn the following morning the Scots attacked. The Manx were routed. Five hundred and thirty-seven Manx dead. Guðrøðr was probably among them, ending the male line of the Norse dynasty. The remaining members of the Manx royal family fled to Norway. The battle took place on ground now covered by the airport’s runways — the same fields where Neolithic people had farmed and where, four centuries later, a different kind of Manx resistance would end on the hill within sight of the same ground.
In 1643, Deemster Ewan Christian — who had served as deputy governor and deemster for fifty-one years — gave his property at Ronaldsway to his third son William. It was on this farm that William Christian, Illiam Dhone, lived and worked as Receiver-General. It was from Ronaldsway that eight hundred men assembled in 1651 for the action that would surrender the Island to Parliament and spare it from siege. The sole condition Christian negotiated: that the Manx people might enjoy their laws and liberties as formerly they had.
The 1663 inventory of Christian’s estate describes a highly developed farm layout with extensive barns, stables, and outbuildings. The farm sat close enough to Castletown that Christian could see Hango Hill from his door — and on 2 January 1663, Hango Hill could see Ronaldsway, when the man who had saved the Island was shot to death with a piece of white paper pinned to his breast. His wife Elizabeth continued to live at Ronaldsway until her death in November 1665. The parish register of Kirk Malew, where Christian was buried, recorded that he “died most penitently and most curragiously.”
By the 1920s, Christian’s mansion was crumbling but still standing, surrounded by the fields his family had farmed. Ronaldsway was first used as an airfield in 1928, with passenger services to the UK starting in 1933. West Coast Air Services, Aer Lingus, and Railway Air Services all operated from the grass landing area. The mansion house, after nearly three centuries, was still there when the first planes came and went above its roofline.
In 1940, the Royal Navy demolished the main Ronaldsway mansion house to clear the path for runways. The house that Illiam Dhone had known was gone. But the Navy kept several of the sturdiest stone farm outbuildings — repurposing them as workshops, stores, and communications rooms. One outbuilding became the civil Air Traffic Control room: its original pitched roof was flattened so a medium-frequency radio aerial could be mounted on top. In May 1946, the Met Office took the airport’s very first official weather observations from this same converted barn, near where the fire station stands today, before moving to the main control tower a few weeks later.
The airfield was initially RAF Ronaldsway, one of the few that continued civilian flights throughout the war. In 1943 it was handed to the Admiralty and taken out of commission for twelve months of intensive development by John Laing & Son. By summer 1944 the grass landing area had become a four-runway airfield. Commissioned as HMS Urley — Urley being Manx for Eagle — on 21 June 1944, its main role was torpedo bomber training, with Fairey Barracuda squadrons operating until the end of hostilities. The base was paid off on 14 January 1946.
The cluster of structures known locally as the “Barn Site” — near the airport fire station — represents the final remaining footprint of the original Ronaldsway Farm. These are not modern airfield constructions. They are historic farm buildings: a composite of early Manx farm masonry and 1940s military engineering, sitting on the exact foundations of the estate William Christian once governed. While continuous maintenance, rebuilding, and expansion over the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries means the stonework cannot be attributed directly to the 1650s, the buildings are definitively part of the pre-airport farm complex whose layout is documented in Christian’s 1663 estate inventory.
Travellers arriving at the Island today land on Christian land without knowing it. The Manx Aviation and Military Museum, housed in buildings constructed as part of HMS Urley, stands on the same airfield. The keills excavated during wartime construction are now displayed at the Story of Mann in Douglas. The ground itself keeps giving up its history, layer by layer, to anyone who thinks to look.
The People and Places
The Christians of Milntown and Ronaldsway provided Deemsters to the Island from 1408. William’s father Ewan served as deemster for fifty-one years. The same family whose Virginia cousins would write the Fincastle Resolutions. The same Christians whose captains had pistols held to their breasts by revenue cutters a century later. Fletcher Christian of the Bounty — born in 1764, the year the old Duke of Atholl died — was of the Christians of Milntown, the family seated in Lezayre.
After the Restoration, the Privy Council reversed Christian’s attainder and ordered restitution to his family. But the damage was done. No Manx-born man held the governorship again. Whether the Stanleys drew that lesson deliberately — that a man who belonged to the Island might, when it came to it, serve the Island rather than the lord — the record does not say. From that point forward, the governor was an outsider. No Manx-born person has ever been appointed Lieutenant Governor.
Further reading: The story of William Christian and the seventh Earl of Derby is told in full in The Price of Allegiance, and in Chapters 5 and 6 of Ruling Mann.
Sources: iMuseum (Manx National Heritage), Manx Society Vol. XXVI (Harrison), Dictionary of National Biography, Ronaldsway Met Office records, Airfields of Britain Conservation Trust, Oxford Archaeology.