Yorkshire May 5 - 8, 2003 about a haunted hotel, historically ruined yet still amazing abbey, a strangely carved cliff, and returning home

	Fountains Abbey was founded in a vale with enough stone, wood and water

	Fountains Abbey A traditional view from tourist center

The weather forecast was actually right -- from rainy Scotland we slithered past Newcastle into a sunny afternoon. And also into an awful traffic jam. In California, we live in a bowl containing some six million people, hence transportation breakdowns happen on a daily basis; yet they do so on much wider freeways (three, four or even five lanes in each direction) and without the legal requirement to pass only on one side. They disentangle faster that way.

Yorkshire is another one of my favorite spots. Rather, it is among those I visited early on, during a marvelous hike we organized with an international camp. Alas, I was not keeping my journals back then, and eleven years absolutely turned memories of any details into smoke. Before this vacation I searched in vain for any information based on a vague description of one place I could muster, which I retained and which I longed to show Sid. I simply wanted my husband to like the land I fancy much -- at the same time being afraid that e.g. Scotland would give Yorkshire a steep competition. After all the majesty of mountains and lochs, we found ourselves among tame, rolling hills specked with sheep and lined with stone fences. And I could not invoke enchanting Heriot's novels, as Sid has never read them.

	Full arch roof has been preserved in only a few places

	Cathedral aisle

That night we took shelter at Golden Lion Inn of Layburn. A festival of sorts had just ended in the town and the community suffered a post-event hangover. All shops and pubs were closed after a previous two-day madness, no-one was about, only empty vendor stands flapped their canvas in a breeze sweeping the square. We went for a walk after spending a day sitting in our car, and an evening chill did not improve my gloomy feeling. Perhaps it is silly, but I began to feel afraid in this strange town. It had a kind of presence, which makes one's hair prickle up, and you don't know why. Our deserted hotel made it no better -- till this day it represents an unpleasant memory, like a night spent at a haunted castle. However, one single positive item deserves mentioning: while scanning through the usual offering of local attraction leaflets, I finally found one about my long lost Malham Cove.

Against our original plans to spent two nights in Layburn, the invisible local monsters turned us away. With a sense of relief we packed our stuff in the morning and headed for Fountains Abbey. It is worth mentioning that as much this abbey is noticeably older and more mysterious and soaked with legends than Layburn, it never felt haunted. Fountains Abbey is rather a sad ruin, perhaps due to the fact that it has been a ruin for too long. Founded in 1132 it had experienced four centuries of success and fame -- followed by six centuries of doom, beginning with year 1539, when king Henry VIII dissolved all monasteries. For a whole year there was hope that abandoned, grand church would become the seat of new Dales bishopric, but already in 1540 scavenged glass and lead from Fountains finds its way to Ripon and York. Ensuing array of secular owners considered ruins a romantic addition to their possessions, some excavations and repairs took place in 18th and 19th centuries, and beginning with 19th century the place became a tourist attraction.

On a week day morning, the abbey was pleasantly tourist-free. We could slowly drift through the ruins, take dozens of pictures and contemplate the possible purposes of various parts of the complex. At the information centre, such information is hardly available -- I think that visitors (we certainly) would appreciate some maps with identification of individual buildings, their ages and a very brief history. Or something similar to Hadrian's Wall -- a small exhibition at the centre, which summarizes such data and explains them.

	Fragile arches still outline the shape of this cathedral

	Malham Cove a limestone cliff separating two different landscapes

We reserved the afternoon for a trip to Malham Cove. I should explain here why this place registered so well in my memory. Malham Cove is a limestone cliff at the edge of Craven Fault. Over the edge of this cliff, water used to flow from a plateau down into a cove, created thus by the ancient waterfalls. The stream eventually found an alternative channel through the limestone underneath and today is emerging under the cliff from a still unexplored cave system. The plateau above is the most interesting part - its originally smooth surface is scarred by a network of deep, roughly perpendicular grooves, invoking the idea of giant cobblestone pavement. Over two hundred feet of vertical drop separates two completely different landscapes -- a swampy, unfriendly moor above, and romantic green pasture of a valley with a creek and sheep and lambs below. A handful of tourist trails begins at Malham Cove, which I recommend to your attention. And if you do not fancy much exercise, or perhaps your time is too short for it (as ours was), take at least a short stroll through the valley and conquer those endless steps up to the cliff edge -- it is definitely worth your while.

Firmly resolved not to return to the haunted Layburn, we drove into a trap, not expecting Yorkshire on a weekday to be the kind of locality where one encounters difficulty finding accommodation. Everything was either full -- or insanely expensive. Our search led us more and more into west, which brought us to White Scar Caves - at this late hour closed. Reaching the western motorway seemed more realistic every hour, and it would take us south towards London (where we were bound anyway to return our car and take our flight home), but then an inconspicuous Scarthwaite Hotel rescued us. At once we obtained a room and as the only customers (another one arrived later that evening) we enjoyed the luxury of owner's personal service. During our meals, we got company of several small wild rabbits that roamed on a grassy terrace, having a meal as well.

	A view from the top of Malham Cove onto Yorkshire Dales

	Finally home... Golden Gate from five thousand feet

To make our last full day in England a bit more entertaining than just driving to London, we made a quick loop through the Caves. Spoiled from Moravian Karst, we had expected just a hole in the ground as that's what many places present for a cave, but this one had a well organized tour and some amazing limestone formations as well. Then finally came our boring drive to London, fortunately compensated by a dinner with Vicky, Holger and Oliver. Our last night came, and a flight HOME. An official at the rental car return rolled his eyes as our over two thousand miles in two weeks. A picture of sunny California after a fortnight in England became very attractive. Our days of sweatshirts, fleece jackets and windbreakers, hikes muffled by wooly hats, evenings filled with drying wet boots and socks -- were over. Still, one should travel to places different from what is the norm at home, don't you think?

Copyright © 2003-2005 by Carol & Sid Paral. All rights reserved.