tintern abbey

As part of our look at old South Wales this Saturday, we stopped at Tintern Abbey. I was determined to see the place because it was the inspiration for one of my favourite bits of verse, which is in Wordsworth's "Lines Written a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey". We discovered a couple things there, the first and more mundane of which is that it is a great thing to take the self-directed audio tour offered at tourist sites. The one for the abbey was invaluable, with tastefully used gregorian chants and all, and the visit was probably infinitely better because we had them. You'll see them in the pictures. It might look like we're being strangely anti-social and listening to headphones individually while on a trip together, but, well, it was worth it.

The other thing we discovered is that attractions off the regular radar are fabulous and inspiring, especially when they come recommended by major literary figures, so to speak. The excerpt I love from Wordsworth's poem goes like this:

For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

Maybe it was the kind of solemnity that comes from ruins of graceful and austere places, the drama of bird's nests and puddles between stone arches and walls, the contrast to the bulk and military air of the castle we'd visited that morning, or maybe just the threat of rain. Either way
we may not be quite as eloquent as old Will, but we were definitely a reflective pair that afternoon. And we loved the place. Here's a panorama view from the inside. Be sure to click on it (and the later pictures) to get the full effect.


And for your edification, in case you have always been longing to know more about Tintern Abbey, are otherwise interested in the ruins of British history, or just like looking at pictures, here are a few images. We start with the abbey, as seen from the (relatively recent) road that runs in front of it:


That road takes us to the gift shop and welcome area:


This was where we got our handy and fab audio guides. Joey put his on and immediately looked more pensive and devout.


I was more than a little excited about it all, especially when we got inside the church building itself.


What used to be an abbey as fancy as any others we'll blog about, now has grassy floor and windows and roofs open to the sky.


Here's Joey, contemplating his own verses, on the grass.


The west window, with me for scale.


The South window, same scale.


And the outside view, of course complete with wind and rain.


There you have it, ladies and gentlemen: the ruins at Tintern Abbey.

and the lakes, belatedly

To add fuel to the ‘north of England versus the south of England’ fire, the lake district turns up another big point for the north side. It was unbelievably beautiful. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Three frantic days of work after Devon, we got on the train to Cumbria. We’ve since decided that the extra cost of a flexible rail ticket is worth the peace of mind it offers (Yorkshire train angel, again, thank you). There, we picked up our super cheap rental car, which was surprisingly nice for the cost and was thankfully a manual transmission for the hills, bought a map, and headed to our bed and breakfast, which was clear on the other side of the region. And the drive was gorgeous. We decided to go when we did because after Neisha said the trees in Leeds had already lost their leaves, we panicked that we might miss the fall colors entirely. We probably needn’t have worried, but the timing was perfect anyway. The drive was a sequence of riotous fiery colors with interludes of lake views, little islands sitting serenely in the middles of thwaites, tarns and waters (all words for lake, reflecting viking, norman and other influences). Don't take my word for it, look at this picture:

We got to our B&B after dark, which was too bad because the google directions we'd brought were only mostly correct and our map covered every village in the lake district except the one we were staying in. Oops. And our mobile phone server was not working, so we couldn't call them for help. Double oops. Through some feat of navigation, luck and direction-asking, we got to it, and were very pleased in the end. If you're going to the lake district and want to be off the (very crowded) and beaten path, it's worth checking out Armidale Cottages. We told Sue, the lady of the house, that we'd put in a plug for her when talking about our travels, so here it is. Our room was warm and comfy, which is good because after trekking around the forests and lakes in the rain, we appreciated warmth and dry comfort. The full english breakfasts were extraordinary. Let's just say we didn't need or bother to have lunch a single day we were there. As b&bs go, it was excellent.

For the next three days we covered the spectrum of the region (I think). Day 1 was Wast Water, a kind of wild-looking lake off the edge of the regular tourist path that's apparently the place of choice for the more serious walkers (in England, 'walking' covers everything from going down the high street in high heels to conquering tall, treacherous, scree-sided mountains. Sir Edmund Hillary was a 'walker'). We made slow progress even though we'd planned a fairly easy trek, because we kept getting distracted by the foliage, the views, and the trillions of cute fluffy wet sheep. We also got a taste of the english rain/mist/precipation/dampness experience. Here are the contrasting views of Wast Water, the first taken on our way to the chosen vista, the second on our way back:



Day 2 was a more traditional lake experience, kind of, starting at an ancient stone circle, Castlerigg, that looks like a mini stonehenge (insert Spinal Tap movie joke here). We neither of us seem to have druid ancestry/leanings - I know that seems a little obvious - because we were much more interested in the view from the stone circle than the stone circle itself. After exploring that area a little, we went to the Derwent Water, which is an impossibly picturesque lake near the buzzing tourist town of Keswick, pronounced 'kezik'. Everything we encountered was so adorable that I'd bore you actually describing it, so here are a few pictures instead.

Adorable children dancing in front of adorable musicians at the lake's edge


Adorable view of the lake from an estuary between it and a bordering forest


Adorable cows in a nearby field

You get the idea.

To make sure we were properly tired at the end of the day we then packed in another 'walk' that included a visit to the Wordsworth museum (he's a darling son of the lake district) and cottage. Here is an illegal picture of Joey sitting in Wordsworth's chair. I hadn't yet been told that photography wasn't allowed when I took it, I promise.


That evening, having spent too much time soaking in the adorableness of Derwent Water etc., (literally, we got caught in the first downpour of the day - and it was a downpour - on our way back through Keswick) we drove, after dark, along a route that has been voted the most beautiful in Britain. Oh well. From the little bit of the side of the road that was lit by the car's high beams, I'll bet they're right about that. Why did we drive it in the dark? Well, our b&b hosts had recommended a country inn along the way as a real Cumbrian experience. Not being connoisseurs of such experiences, we can't say for sure whether they were right, but the food sure was good. And now we can say we've been along that route. Just don't ask what it looked like.

The delicious Cumbrian pub food:


Day 3, also the day we returned to London, we went to the place we'd spent so much time staring at from the stone circle, and it didn't disappoint. Sure, it was a bit soggy after the rains the night before, but you can't have everything. Then we stopped at Hawkshead for a village experience, took a brief walk, more pictures of sheep (sheep are for Joey what geese are for me), and made a stop at the Beatrix Potter gift shop. Ms. Potter is another treasured product of the lake region. Then we uneventfully got the rental car back to Enterprise, and uneventfully caught the train back to London. Thank goodness. The end.