Tripping through the Bluebells

I'm so glad the weatherman was off the mark today. Rain, heavy at times, was the forecast, but when I left Harrogate in the morning the gray sky was beginning to brighten. Though we only saw the barest hint of blue sky, we escaped precipitation on our hike today. We hiked through a carpet of bluebells covering the floor of Middleton Wood near Ilkley. I had looked forward to this walk with much anticipation, but the profusion of flowers and the depth of their color took my breath away. Their beauty was astonishing. I, and a few other hikers, mesmerized by the spectacle in the woods, held up the progress of the hike while we took one photo after another at every bend of the trail. When once I put my camera away the trail began to get quite muddy. With only about two more yards of muddy path to go, I lost my footing and fell onto one knee. No harm done -- my only worry was whether I would be allowed admittance into the pub at lunchtime with my muddied jeans. After we emerged from the woods and left the muddy path, we were hiking on Ilkley moor with a panoramic view of the picturesque little town. We passed fields populated by frisky shire ponies as we wended our way over the moorland. At one point we came to "Mount Calvary" -- a religious sanctuary created by the Passionist Fathers in the early 20th century. At Mount Calvary, one passes through an ornately carved wooden door set into a stone wall. The door opens onto a pathway lined with carved stone plinths representing the Stations of the Cross. It seemed odd to encounter this very Catholic retreat in the heart of Protestant England. Lunchtime today was spent not in a pub but in a trendy little restaurant near the Ilkley town square. This was my first visit to Ilkley and, I hope, not my last.

One Misty Moisty Morning

Early this morning I took one of my 45-minute aerobic walks through the Stray. Once on the Stray the view was intriguing. As I stood on Slingsby Walk along a row of stone houses, ahead of me lay the grassy stretches of Harrogate's largest park. In the distance was a line of trees, their forms shrouded in mist and fog. The fog not only threw a veil over my view, it muted the noise of traffic, so that it felt I was on a tranquil grassy island washed clean with dew. I continued on to the avenue of the leaning cherry trees. There are actually two avenues of cherry trees, and the trees on each path lean permanently in the direction of the relentless North Yorkshire wind. The trees are in full bloom now and their blossoms are a startling shade of pink. It's a pink that seems should not exist in nature. A pink meant for Hostess Snoballs and Necco Wafers. Whole clumps of blooms had been strewn by wind and rain onto the grass. I bent over and gathered a few. I brought them home and set them afloat in a bowl of water.

The Great Wetherby Car Boot Sale

Last summer Brad and I went to a few car boot sales and were not very impressed with this British version of a flea market. When fall hit and the weather began to get cold, car boot sale season was over. Now that the weather has begun to get warmer, car boot sales are in season again. We had heard about a huge car boot sale that takes place at Wetherby race course and this morning headed over there with much anticipation. We met disappointment again. Granted, there were a lot of vendors, but most of the offerings were pure junk. Rickety old furniture, chintzy china, cast-off clothing, tacky souvenirs, blah blah blah. There were books galore but they were mostly cheesy romance novels -- nothing I was burning to read. There were a handful of vendors offering what might be considered collectibles, but again, nothing I was interested in. What really rankled me was the 60 pence admission fee. Sure it's not a lot of money -- only about a buck -- but what in the world is it for?!! The venue was a wet grassy field with no cover in case of inclement weather.

In England just about every flea market or antiques fair has an admission fee. I've decided I can judge the wares simply by the amount of the admission fee. If admission is free then there will be nothing there in which I will have the slightest interest. Admission under £1 means there will be mostly junk with a few items of interest. Admission between £2-3 means there will be some items of quality that I should be able to afford. Admission £4 and above means the goods will be of a high quality but the prices will be out of my reach. Oh, how I miss the shrine sales of Tokyo!

St. George's Day

St. George is the patron saint of England and his emblem, a red cross on a white field, has become the flag of England. The historical St. George was martyred on this day about 1700 years ago for refusing to denounce his Christian faith to a pagan Roman Emperor. The legendary St. George slew a dragon to save a beautiful princess. St. George's Day is not a national holiday and barely earns a mention on the news. In Harrogate, aside from a pub and a restaurant that had hung flags of England to advertise some menu specials, the only sign of celebration I saw was a lone car with two curious passengers: a man dressed up as a knight from the Crusades and a man in a fuzzy green dragon suit. It was a lonely one-car parade accompanied by no fanfare whatsoever.

Reservoir Ramble

All week rain has been in the forecast, so our ramble leader chose an easy walk near Fewston where there are packed dirt trails and lots of cover. As it turned out the weather was fine, even warm and sunny near the end of our 5+ mile hike. The village of Fewston sits in the middle of two large reservoirs, Swinsty and Fewton, and we walked round both of them. The huge reservoirs, lined with pine trees, resembled placid lakes in the Swiss Alps, making it hard to believe we were in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales. Along the way we passed a couple of grand mansions, one of which had at one time belonged to the Yorkshire water works but is now in private hands. Another was Swinsty Hall, said to be haunted by the man who built the mansion from proceeds gained by robbing the dead. The well-marked path around the reservoirs clung close to the water. We passed several anglers testing their skills. In the woods to the other side of the path were some of the season's early blue bells, a spring flower held in as much reverence here in Yorkshire as the cherry blossoms are in Japan. Next week we are promised a bluebell walk in Ilkley.

A Day For All Seasons

After living in England for nearly a year (gasp!) we have determined the only thing constant about the weather here is that it is constantly changing. Yesterday was a perfect example. When we left the house it was cool but refreshing. The sun was hidden by light cloud cover and it really felt like spring had finally arrived. Later that morning the sun peeked out from behind the clouds and it got quite hot. We felt like shedding our jackets and wished we had our sandals on. In the afternoon the cloud cover had become thicker, the skies gray and the wind picked up. It seemed as if spring had jumped past summer and headed straight to autumn. By the time we decided to walk to our favorite fish and chips joint for dinner the wind had become positively wicked and I felt compelled to put my hood up. Walking home after dinner we were pelted with a light but icy rain that was trying really hard to become hail. Wintry indeed!

The White House Next Door

Ever since we moved into our apartment work has been going on next door converting The White House Hotel into "luxury" apartments. Though there is still a bit of work to be done on a few of the apartments, the building is now open for show and I've heard that four of the eight units have already been sold. My curiosity about the former hotel has certainly been piqued and yesterday I was given a tour by the construction team's foreman. The Victorian facade, painted stark white, is rather striking and when you enter the building you walk into a beautiful wide hallway with lovely tile work on the floor and detailed plasterwork on the ceilings. The renovation work in the individual apartments was quite nice with lovely hardwood floors, neutral walls with period plasterwork on the ceilings and walls. Even so, I was curious about the layouts of the apartments. The White House is not a very large building and I couldn't imagine how they would fit eight apartments in the given space. I soon got my answer. The apartments were rather on the smallish side. Some of the units are one-bedroom, while others have two bedrooms. Each unit has a different layout. Some of the layouts were bizarre with odd angles and narrow passage ways. Most of the bedrooms were small. Many units had one room that served as kitchen/dining room/living room. The so-called penthouse was actually in the attic of the building. The entire unit has steeply sloped ceilings with only skylights as windows. I was amazed to notice that none of the units has built-in closets, all bathrooms had pedestal sinks (i.e. no under-sink storage). No linen closets. No coat closets. I was astounded to think that the renovators did not think of including those kinds of amenities. And these apartments are expensive (I think we would call them condominiums in the States, as they are for sale). One of the basement units is going for about £265,000 (about $473,000). Well, at least the new neighbors should be well heeled.

The Avenue of Leaning Cherry Trees

I've started an exercise regimen of aerobic walking everyday. I'm really surprised at how much ground I cover when I'm walking aerobically. I've had to stray further and further afield just to get in a good 35 minutes or more of exercise. As a result I've come across certain aspects of Harrogate that I'd previously been oblivious to. For example, yesterday I was walking on a different part of the Stray. I came to a diagonal walkway lined with cherry trees. I noticed that all the trees were leaning dramatically to the left. Furthermore, all the branches were swept up and curved in the same direction as if the trees were a row of dancers bending in unison. Curious testament to how strong and relentless the winds of North Yorkshire are.

The Sad Tale of Belle Vue Mansion

Today as I was running my errands in town I noticed a historical plaque on the rear of the BHS on Oxford Street. Curious, I went for a closer look. I read there used to be a grand mansion and gardens on the site of the British Home Store. The mansion, built in the 1800s, was called Belle Vue and had originally belonged to Thomas Thrush a one-time post-captain in the Royal Navy. After leaving the navy Thrush devoted himself to learning the Greek language so that he might read the New Testament in its original language. Through his studies of the Bible he concluded that war was immoral. He decided to forgo his navy pension and wrote a letter to the king respectfully but firmly denouncing his country's policy of war. Thrush was abandoned by his friends for taking such a radical stance. Unperturbed, Thrush devoted himself to writing and publishing books on a homemade printing press. When he was 80 he published his own book, Last Thoughts of a Naval Officer on the Unlawfulness of War. After his death, the mansion changed hands twice and eventually some of the land was donated for the building of St. Peter's Church. In the early 1900s the mansion was turned into a commercial property and in the1930's served as Harrogate's Marks and Spencer department store. Then in 1969 the mansion was demolished and replaced with the current structure -- a hideous architectural monstrosity -- basically a concrete box with large plate glass show windows, now the home of BHS, a department store.

Harrogate is full of wonderful examples of Victorian architecture, yet I continue to be baffled by the number of older buildings that were torn down and replaced with some of modern England's most regrettably designed structures.

Easter in England

It seems months ago when hot cross buns began to dominate the bakery shelves in the supermarkets. Apparently those celebrated buns are derigueur Easter morning fare in English households. The supermarket shelves have also been filled with tons of brightly wrapped chocolate eggs and bunnies and lambs. At Bettys, Harrogate's premier cafe and pastry shop, we have seen some spectacularly decorated choclate eggs on display. They are artful enough to appear in a museum. Also considered Easter fare, at least at Bettys, is a confection called a Simnel Cake, basically a fruit cake with a super sweet marzipan icing. I think, however, the Simnel Cake hearkens to the Swiss owner and founder's tradition rather than that of the locals. At any rate, it confirms my notion that the British are mad about fruit cakes for they are consumed voraciously at Christmas time as well.

I asked an Engliswoman woman what was considered traditional fare for Easter dinner in most English households. She replied that there was no real favorite and that her family usually has a turkey. Despite her response, I suspect that roast lamb is a favorite, especially here in North Yorkshire where the fields are full of little lambkins (I know, I hate to think about that inevitable conclusion).

Both Good Friday and Easter Monday are national holidays or bank holidays as they are called here. Though most of the larger supermarkets and dept. stores will be open on the holidays, smaller stores and offices, etc. will be closed. Saturday is business as usual but on Sunday only very few establishments will be open for business. Local traffic has been extremely light since Friday, though we understand the major highways will be jampacked.

Brad and I are going to be totally non-traditional in our Easter celebration. For one thing, we had pancakes for breakfast. For another, our Easter dinner will be spaghetti and meatballs. For another, our Easter morning was spent on a trek out near Bolton Abbey. Bolton Abbey is situated near the River Wharf about a half-hour drive from Harrogate. The setting is idyllic. The ruins of the eleventh-century abbey are surrounded by rolling hills, often populated by sheep. This morning, much to our delight, the sheep were accompanied by many little lambs. We saw a little boy hefting a large stick and running toward the sheep and lambs yelling "Wake up sheep!" Luckily his dad was there to make sure he didn't cause any real havoc. I managed to snap some close-up shots of the lambs before we headed out on our hike. We crossed over the River Wharf and began following a well worn path up and up. Finally it leveled off and we were rewarded with a wonderful view of the Abbey. We continued on the path and came to a fallen tree log into which had been hammered numerous coins. I have encountered this phenomenon once before and have yet to find out the reason behind this tradition. Further along was yet another fallen log embedded with coins. We did a bit of birdwatching along the way and saw a chaffinch and a nuthatch. Eventually we came to another wooden bridge which we took back over the river to Cavendish Pavilion, a restaurant/information center/shop. Given the holiday, I was surprised the facility was open. At that time (10 a.m.-ish) there were not many people about and the info center had just opened. We stopped for a cup of tea before continuing on to Strid Wood where you can follow one of several color-coded trails. We chose the trail that kept us closest to the water. The woods were quite beautiful with many moss-covered stones, lush ground cover and pretty wildflowers. In the river we spotted a pair of goosander. The tranquil mood was broken by a bold red sign with a foreboding message: "Danger. The Strid is dangerous and has claimed lives." We were at the location where the River Wharfe squeezes through a narrow but deep gorge known as The Strid. The water level was low and we we were able to clamber over the normally slippery rocks for some stunning views. You can only go so far along those rocks before you must turn back and join the trail again. At this point we decided to head back home and retraced our steps back to our car. Business had definitely picked up at Cavendish Pavilion; we passed many hikers along the way and saw that the car park had filled up considerably. Several folks had set up elaborate picnic lunches and some were even barbecuing burgers. Not what we expected to see in Britain on an Easter Sunday.

Number Nine

Brad and I got married nine years ago today. We celebrated by going out to dinner at the Harrogate Brasserie and, best of all, for dessert at Bettys. So much has happened in those nine years and we've been to so many places, yet tonight when we reminisced about our wedding day it seemed like only yesterday when we threw the greatest party of our lives at Government House in Baltimore.

A Long Walk Near Spofforth

Today we took a hike near the village of Spofforth, about five miles outside of Harrogate. This hike, unlike the last two, was mostly on level ground. We still managed to get a good workout as we walked about seven miles and near the end had to negotiate some electric fences. I'd have to say this was one of the least inspiring walks I've been on. We walked past one farmer's field after another after another. Boring scenery. At one point we did pass some wonderfully shaped boulders, reminiscent of the glacier carved rocks of Brimham, but that was the only highlight of this ramble. Spofforth itself was absolutely charming. Despite being quite a small village it has a lovely old stone church and the ruins of a medieval castle. We had lunch at the aptly named Castle Inn where I had a rather tasty coronation chicken sandwich.

Ripley Ramble

Today Brad and I went on a self-guided hike near Ripley Castle. Well, sort of self-guided. I had picked up a walking guide recommended by a fellow hiker, Circular Walks Around Harrogate by renowned hiker John N. Merrill. The book describes several four to eight mile hikes in our area. The written descriptions are pretty good, though littered with typos. The maps in the book, however, are pathetic. They are crudely drawn and leave out many details. At least Merrill includes the Ordnance Survey map number that corresponds with each walk. The Ordnance Survey maps are the rambler's bible. They are incredibly detailed topographical maps that list nearly every barn, cottage, footpath, field or other feature that you might encounter. The maps cover all of Great Britain. We need about three of them just to cover the walks listed in Merrill's guide book. So, armed with Merrill's guide book and OS map number 298 (Nidderdale) we struck out. Previous to this I've only gone on hikes with a group that has a leader. It wasn't long before I realized how attentive a hike leader must be. We were barely on the trail for 10 minutes when we realized we had taken a wrong turn. Seems a new path had been laid out that did not show up on our OS map. We sorted that out in short order and then were on our way. At first, we found it a bit tricky trying to follow the OS map but by the end of the walk we felt we had gotten the hang of it. It was a rather easy four and a half walk with just a few hills and wooden stiles to climb. It took us about two hours to complete. Oh, and at the beginning of the walk I am certain we passed Sir Thomas Ingilby, the current owner and resident of Ripley Castle.

Dacre Walls Walk

This week's hike took us through Dacre Parish where we saw features relating to the dry stone walls of the area. The stone walls were built to mark off fields for sheep farmers. They are called "dry" stone walls because no mortar is used to hold the stones together. Building the walls is a true art. None of the stones are cut down to size or shape; they are taken as is and simply fitted in nice and tight and neat. Some of the walls we passed dated to pre-17th Century. We encountered the usual muddy and marshy areas on this walk. At one point we climbed a fairly steep hill (for me) that really wore me out. We climbed over the walls on all manner of stone stiles. Sometimes we climbed on stone steps that seemed to be designed for people with incredibly long legs. I had to really struggle to climb them. At other times we gained passage through a "squeeze stile" -- a vertical gap in the wall. These stiles seemed designed for people with sticks as legs. We crossed over a quaint packhorse bridge that was used in earlier times by donkeys bearing loads of wool to market. We also saw a "cripple hole", a feature dating to medieval times. A cripple hole is simply a gap situated low in a stone wall with a flagstone cover. The cover is removed to allow sheep to pass through. And speaking of sheep, we saw lots of them and many oh-so-cute lambs. At one point one of the ramblers in our group had to herd some lambs back into a field after they had come tumbling over a low spot on a stone wall. If you'd like to read more about this walk follow this link. Click on the stone wall icon. (You'll need Adobe Acrobat Reader to view the page).