Through Strid Woods, Last Look at Bolton Abbey

Having walked alongside the river to The Strid, I decided to take a higher path back to Bolton Abbey through Strid Woods.

 

Looking down on the River Wharfe from time to time: 

 

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Seeing some rock-side waterfalls flowing down the hill:

 

And eventually, I came within sight of Bolton Abbey again:

 

It was time to have a last look round the Abbey cemetery:

 

The two graves below caught my eye the most:

 

 I just imagined that this was what the old monks' graves must've looked like, or the graves of Emily and Francis Norton in Wordsworth's The Wild Doe of Rylstone.

 

It was time to leave Bolton Abbey.

 

Strid Wood Tea Rooms - Card Only Payment Policy

Out on my Strid saunter in mid-September, I came across The Strid Wood Tea Rooms:

Inside the place, a bottle of cider was five-pound, a bit steep but probably worth paying on a warm afternoon.

With the bottle in my hand, I was directed over to what I thought was a cash desk with a fresh, red-cheeked, young man.

Moreover, upon producing a five-pound note, the young man's face changed from a plastic smile to a pronounced frown, with him even looking offended:

          

         "What do you think you're doing? We only do payment by card!".

 

With this kind of character, I just have a swift, no-nonsense approach:

 

          "That's absolutely outrageous!".

 

So after quickly shaking my head, I left the card payment only establishment, not wishing to set foot inside it again (I'm simply NOT a fan of the card-only discrimination policy).

During my 2-3 week trip to England, people were repeatedly telling me that Britain was now "North Korea with a plastic smile", and, truth be known, it was impossible to disagree with them. 

Along The Wharfe to The Strid

 

While at Bolton Abbey, I decided to cross the river and follow the Wharfe round to the infamous Strid.

Right from the moment go, at the bridge, the River Wharfe looked lively: 

But in some nooks and crannies, the river looked relaxed, showing off its brown-coloured water:

 

But dramatically started livening up as I approached The Strid:

 

And there it was, all at once, The Strid, in front of my eyes:

 

With water gushing everywhere:

 

In Wordsworth's The White Doe of Rylstone (1815), the narrator reveals that local noblewoman Alice de Rumilly's son dies while trying to leap over The Strid with his hunting hound, which leads to Alice giving the land for Augustinian monks to build Bolton Priory (Bolton Abbey) in the 12th century.

 

However, some historical records show Alice de Rumilly's son living on well after the assumed drowning episode.

 

But still, the drowning account adds poignancy to Wordsworth's book-length poem, as Alice de Rumilly, like the main heroine Emily Norton, tries to make some kind of (Christian) sense of life after suffering tragic loss (in Emily's case, losing her father and many brothers during the 1569 Northern Catholic Revolt against Queen Elizabeth I).

 

 

Of course, at some point, I came across a warning sign, as the rocks near The Strid were extremely slippy:

 I actually did start slipping on the rocks near The Strid but was thankfully wise enough to be stood some distance well away from the gushing water itself.

Yes, The Strid was amazing but also incredibly dangerous. 

My First Look at Bolton Abbey (Bolton Priory)

Following my journey from Warsaw, through Liverpool, Manchester, Burnley, and Skipton, plus a hearty nine-hour sleep, I took my first look at Bolton Abbey:

First, I had a look inside the chapel which Prior Moone had managed to save during the 1536-1541 Dissolution of the Monasteries period:

 A guide at the chapel told me that it now functioned as a High Church Anglican place of worship:

After a quick look inside and buying a book about the place for my wife, I went outside to explore the monastery remains:

Like all monastery remains in England, the ones at Bolton Abbey serve as a reminder of the country's once great Catholic past (Our Lady's Dowry):

Looking in different directions, I saw other old buildings which most probably had been connected to the Abbey in days gone by:

But still, it was the Abbey ruins which took central place:

 Especially with the River Wharfe in the background:

 

The place also held a Romantic fascination for me, as I felt myself following in the footsteps of Wordsworth's short book-length poem, The White Doe of Rylstone (1815), which deals with the 1569 Northern Catholic Revolt against Queen Elizabeth I.

 

The main text of The White Doe of Rylstone both starts and ends with the sentient white doe visiting Bolton Abbey graveyard to lie by the side of the grave of the tragic heroine of the poem, Emily Norton.

 

In the poem, Emily and Francis Norton are the two Protestant children of Francis Norton, a local Catholic nobleman who, with a group of his Catholic sons, goes to fight for the Northern Catholic Revolt, with them all being tragically executed (Francis is also murdered by Protestant forces, being accused of having become a 'traitor').

Yes, in the Bolton Abbey monastic ruins, I could sense the presence of the monks that had once inhabited the place, and the opening and ending scenes from Wordsworth's The White Doe of Rylstone.

 

Such places hold this magical metaphysical/cultural presence.

 

Wordsworth, of course, was fascinated by how modern-day people can sense the presence and culture of people who lived hundreds of years ago through visiting such places as Bolton Abbey (and other Catholic monastery remains dotted all over England).

 

Meeting Alfie at Catgill Farm, Bolton Abbey

 

Eventually, after walking a couple of miles out of my way (after Bolton Abbey), I turned back and walked up past the Tea Rooms and Village Shop to meet my old friend, Alfie, at Catgill Farm, a more than decent campsite (good showers; shop accepting cash etc.).

Not long after, I had the tent set up for 9-10 hours of much-needed sleep:

 Nice shot of Alfie sitting at the Village Green:

Of course, Bolton Abbey was always going to have an old-worldly quality.
 

The Road to Bolton Abbey

After arriving at Liverpool Airport, I took a short bus ride to South Parkway to catch the train to Manchester Piccadilly, and ended up passing through Rugby League towns like Widnes and Warrington:

 

Then, after walking from Piccadilly to Victoria, I caught the train from Manchester to Burnley, having a quick look at the canal in the latter:

 From Burnley, I took the bus to Skipton, taking a quick look at the canal there too:

 

From here, the journey started to go a bit pear-shaped, as there was no direct bus to Bolton Abbey, so I was advised to catch a bus to Addingham (between Skipton and Ilkley) and walk it from there, which I ended up doing.

After receiving good directions from the bus driver, I found myself passing a small Catholic church:

 An old Quaker/Society of Friends place:

While much of the time being on a quite busy (at times, dangerous) road, looking down at the River Wharfe, my guide to Bolton Abbey:

And at some point, I came across welcoming signs to Bolton Abbey and the Yorkshire Dales:

With the Devonshire Arms being a clear indicator that I was almost there:

 

Of course, it was great to gain my first (veiled) views of Bolton Abbey and its surrounding graveyard:

 

I was here on a kind of literary pilgrimage, following in the footsteps of Wordsworth's The White Doe of Rylstone, his tragic tale about the 1569 Northern Catholic Revolt against Queen Elizabeth I.

But at first, it was the River that really caught my eye: 

Beautiful Night-Time Sky

 

A beautiful night-time sky from outside a restaurant in Eastern Poland.

 

A great aesthetic moment.