Our Durham and York Adventure

The UK rail system isn't very kind to the last-minute traveller, with fares rising in price with ridiculous nerve the closer you get to your departure date. So two months ago, when I came across a great deal that saw a range of journeys reduced to just £5, Bob and I went through the various destinations and blindly picked today's date for a daytrip. Funnily enough, after Sunday night's snowstorm and continuing snow throughout England during the week, long delays and cancellations on air and rail transport continued all week long, and we weren't even sure that our trains would be running when we checked online yesterday. In addition, the weather continued to be the coldest we've felt in London, to the point where we were wondering if today would be a silly day to be out wandering all day long, but the tickets were already bought, the trains were definitely running, so off we went.

Since our first train of the day left King's Cross at 6:15 A.M., we began our journey in the dark. Every station we stopped at was covered in increasing amounts of snow,

and when the sun finally came up, we were treated to plenty of views of snowy fields.

By sheer luck, the snow disappeared from the landscape just before we got off the train in Durham, about 400 km north of London, and it was definitely nice not to have to negotiate icy sidewalks all day long. Durham is known for its cathedral and castle, both of which are UNESCO world heritage sites, and are visible below, at centre and left, respectively.

Since we only had 3.5 hours in Durham, we decided to start at what seemed like the only must-see destination, the cathedral, and then wander from there.

A replica of the cathedral's "sanctuary knocker" hangs outside the main entrance. In the Middle Ages, the cathedral served as a refuge for fugitives, who could claim sanctuary by knocking on this door. After 37 days, fugitives had to decide whether to stand trial or leave by the nearest port. Bob looks like he's already prepared to choose the latter!

The cathedral was beautiful, but photography wasn't allowed inside, so the exterior is all I can show you. The castle now houses part of Durham University, and is open to the public by guided tour, but the only tours today were after we'd already be on the train to our next destination, so we settled for admiring the castle exterior.

For the rest of our short visit, we just walked around, taking in the quiet streets,

market square,

and gazing at some of the posher houses outside of the centre, including this one, which had two equally nice doors, both displaying the same address!

This is the cathedral view that residents of no. 50 get to enjoy:

As we crossed the river, we were treated to another view of the cathedral, together with Sir Walter Scott's thoughts on the subject.

I had no idea, but apparently the university is known for its rowing teams, and in spite of today's bitterly cold temperatures, they were on the river this morning, shivering away.

By now it was almost noon, and we bade farewell to Durham and made our way back to the train station.

After a short 45-min train journey, we arrived at the main reason for today's daytrip, the city of York. Since York Minster was practically the first sight we stumbled upon,

we decided to start our eight hours here by taking in the enormous Gothic cathedral.

The chapter house was an especially nice spot:

This charming clock dates to 1750, although the men-at-arms who strike the quarter-hours were made in 1528:

The 15th-century choir screen depicts the kings of England:

The first date on this engraving marks the date of the first wooden church that stood on this site, but I'm not sure about the significance of the second date.

Another plaque is set into the floor nearby, and as near as I can tell, it has something to do with trajectories that help in the official mapping of the country:

Bob sat down for a bit at one end of the cathedral while I took photos, and when I rejoined him, I noticed an odd sight above his head:

Then, as if it were all planned, the next sight I noticed was this legend for Terry Hammill's installation, entitled The Semaphore Saints.

As Bob and I held the laminated card, trying to decipher the saints' message, a group of people gathered around to see what we were staring at. With so much to take in while wandering through the cathedral, I imagine that the installation is very easy to miss! Another detail that I almost missed is the dragon's head which is thought to have been a pivot point for lifting the font cover:

After I finished taking photos, I looked for Bob and found him talking with a member of the clergy. What do you think they were talking about?

I bet whatever you thought, you were wrong, unless you guessed salmon and wives! Bob's new friend talked about how one of his favourite experiences in the world was eating salmon in Vancouver at The Boathouse on English Bay. But the more surprising sentiment came after Bob said that he had lost me, but that I was somewhere in the cathedral, taking photos. The reply he got went something like this: "I'm always losing my wife. I think there should be a shop you go to when you lose your wife to get a new one." Bob said he would tell his wife that story, but that "she wouldn't like it." I'll let you wonder if he was right! I looked back at the minster as we walked away, and quite liked the truncated view framed by the narrow street.

The small streets of York are definitely atmospheric.

Apparently, "Mad Alice" was hung in 1823 after pleading insanity in the case of her poisoned husband.

Although York Minster was pretty impressive, I almost preferred tiny, ramshackle Holy Trinity Church, hidden behind one of the main streets.

The woodwork and pew boxes date to the 17th and 18th centuries, and coupled with the sloping floors, the overall effect is quite lovely.

The Shambles is probably the best-known street in York. The medieval street goes from narrow to impossibly narrow at one point just ahead, where buildings on opposite sides of the street lean over the road, as if about to embrace.

Many of the streets and passages leading off from The Shambles are equally otherworldly.

We passed by Clifford's Tower, which was once part of York Castle

and was the site of a mass suicide in 1190, when a mob started by a man who owed money to a prominent Jewish banker used the confusion of a city fire to start an anti-Semitic mob that resulted in at least 150 Jewish people taking refuge in the castle for several days, until a fire broke out. Some people died in the fire, the majority committed suicide rather than be taken by the mob, and those who surrendered were killed. The commemorative plaque relays some of these details:

Our next stop was at the city art gallery,

which had a pleasant, modest collection of pieces, including Bernardino Fungai's The Martyrdom of St. Clement (1500),

Spencer Frederick Gore's From a Canal Bridge, Chalk Farm Road (1913),

and Paul Nash's Winter Sea (1925-37).

This next photo is of a piece of "art" that we created in the gallery at the station (no doubt meant for school children) set up for creating your own still life:(Bob insisted on making the spider play the recorder.) The view from the gallery as we were leaving was even nicer than the view of the gallery as we went in!

Although we didn't go to the York Museum, we wandered around the Museum Gardens for a bit, passing some ruins,

before deciding to go for a walk on the medieval city walls. We didn't know that the walls close at "dusk," but even though we arrived at one of the wall's gates 45 minutes before sunset, the gate was already locked. Although I was disappointed (Bob's walked on the York walls before), I suppose the cold wind made me a bit glad we wouldn't be spending the next half hour walking on top of the wall.

We wandered past the minster again,

and stopped in front of the Guy Fawkes Inn

to read this plaque:

A tiny red devil peered down at us here--it turns out that the street used to be filled with printers' offices and that "printers' devil" was the nickname for the apprentices who carried hot metal type.

This building

held a rather unexpected sight:

With one last look at the leaning buildings of The Shambles,

we decided to take refuge in a coffee shop, where we warmed up with our hot drinks and watched the city become rather quiet after dark.

When it was almost time to get back to the station to catch our train to London, we got out of our comfy chairs and enjoyed one last wander

before settling in for the 2.5-hour ride. All of our journeys today were booked in the "quiet coach," billed as a haven from the loud mobile conversations that often make getting around on public transportation in England rather annoying. Of course, there's no stopping some people:

Not only did this particular passenger yell into his mobile for the duration of his 20-minute journey, he also failed to produce a valid ticket (and clearly didn't have one) when the inspector made his way through the carriage. Rather than doling out a fine, making the man buy a ticket, or even pointing out that this was the quiet coach (rather predictably, the man tried to use his phone conversation as a way to avoid the inspector's request to see his ticket), the inspector just said he would give the man a chance to look for his ticket and return after he finished checking tickets in the other carriages. Later on, the inspector walked through our carriage again, but didn't ask the man any further questions, and he got off the train shortly afterwards, leaving behind a mess of crumpled food wrappers coated with slimy ketchup and stinky vinegar all over the floor beneath his seat and in the neighbouring aisle. Sadly, this isn't the first time we've seen the brazenly obnoxious behave with impunity in England, and, even more sadly, it probably won't be the last time. We may have spent the day in the land of fairy-tale buildings and cobbled historic lanes, but we were now firmly back in reality!