Tag: Visit Yorkshire

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Yes York

There are good days and not so good days. There are early morning run days and there are other days. There are home days and away days. Today was a good day (in every sense of the word – weather, profitable, awakening, etc.), an away day and ideal for a run. I left my hotel and started running from Clifford’s Tower around the walls before finding somewhere for breakfast. In those heavy plods, my overweight body gasped at the fresh winter air and cleared my lungs; I was richly rewarded for such an early start. As the sun shone and warmed my sleepy muscles, I began to enjoy this newfound way to explore a city. I must surely look at the health and environment benefits of exploring places in this and other ways. Like many of these cities this was not a first visit, but again my memory, or lack of it, has let me down, for anyone who has been to York will remember it.

It was reportedly said by King George VI, “that the history of York is the history of England”. Whether he ever said this I will leave to those who wish to confirm or otherwise, but what I will say is that if he didn’t say it, I will! York, the capital of the north, a Christian stronghold, once Europe’s chief trading base, and England’s second city, it really does provide a snapshot of England’s history. Although not England’s second city now, it is home to an important diocese within the Church of England and the title handed to the second son of a given reigning monarch.

How it came to be known as York is a mystery to me. When the Romans arrived, they named it Eboracum, before the Saxons changed it to Eoforwic and the Vikings named it Jorvik. Like I’ve mentioned before the Romans had a good eye for establishing bases. York was no different. Its ideal strategic location on the conflux of the rivers Ouse and Foss was their chosen spot. It probably provided good transportation links as well as defences. Very little of Roman Britain remains in York – there is an odd pillar here and there. Rumours are that much of Roman York is buried under the city itself but it does lay claim to the place of the proclamation of the Roman Emperor Constantine (a statue dedicated to the emperor can be found outside the Minster).

As the history books will no doubt inform me the Romans’ influence declined and then it was the turn of the Saxons and Vikings. York is filled with museums documenting their time in the city. Those not wishing to spend time in these museums only need to look at the Danish street names for the influence left over from the Vikings.

Everyone knows how the Saxon/Viking era finished some 300 miles south of York in Hastings by the Normans in 1066 – and all that. The new king of the land set about touring his newfound kingdom and building defences and religious buildings. He arrived in York relatively easily with no resistance and was handed the keys. He quickly set about building its defences as he raised a motte and baily castle here. The building of structures used for religious purposes didn’t come for another 200 years, so was there something already here? The city had two castles built and Clifford’s Tower (where my run commenced) is one of them. As I did those runs up and down the stairs to the castle I quickly got an idea of how easy it might be to defend these hills. Clifford’s Tower is the only remaining castle – the other has long gone. It is named after Roger de Clifford who was hanged here in 1322. There is a museum opposite the tower which houses the cell formerly used by highwayman Dick Turpin. These first original defences built by William weren’t that secure as the Vikings returned to capture the city. William returned, and set about rebuilding the city walls and destroying much of the land between here and Durham.

York’s other military defences that can be still seen today are its perfectly kept walls. Whoever saved the day in the 18th century when most city walls were being pulled down must be praised. What is left is not all encapsulating as I got lost when the walls stopped. Like Chester’s walls they beg to be traversed. At just over 3-mile-long they provided perfect running space and dreamy views on an early morning. I was lucky enough to get pictures of the Minster, etc. Whilst walls provide a great way of stopping anyone from coming in or out, there was a need for gates to be included. These medieval gates are called Bars. 4 of them are placed in the walls but I did not find out whether or not they match the points of the compass. Their names are Bootham, Walmgate, Monk and Micklegate. Built between the 12-15th centuries these provided the collection point for city taxes. The final two on the list of 4 are now museums to Richard III (Monk) and Henry VII (Micklegate). When I return Monk Bar must surely be in line for a visit as I’m currently reading about Richard III. Perhaps I should devote as much time to Micklegate Bar as well, as the city’s most famous of Bars. It is said that the monarch, upon arriving at York, would wait at Micklegate and seek the permission of the Lord Mayor to enter the city. Micklegate Bar was also the place in which the heads of traitors and rebels were placed on display. This gruesome decoration was prominent during the ebb and flow of the War of the Roses and as each side took an upper hand, they would display how successful it had been by this means. Most distasteful.

Inside those protecting walls lies the glory of York, it’s Minster. York Minster has been described as one of the world’s most magnificent cathedrals. This is up for debate. I mean, it’s not even a cathedral but a minster??? So how can it be one of the most magnificent in the world. My visits to cathedrals recently haven’t endeared me to them, substantial financial costs for entrance a major problem, but also timing my visits with essential building works. York minster was no different, at an alarming £11.50 to enter. I was heartbroken to see that the middle of the church had been blocked off for the once-in-a-century tuning of the organ thus ruining my photos of the inside and meaning access to see the central tower ceiling impossible. My selfish desires to capture everything on one visit must be put aside as I sit down and remember the cost of maintaining these buildings but also marvel at the sheer size of this place. I’ve made many a mention about how on earth these religious places were ever built or how they were designed. There is such a vacuum of empty space inside, one can certainly feel lonely.

On such a beautiful day I didn’t really want to waste it on the inside, I paid an extra £5 to complete the tower tour. 275 steps later I was rewarded with the best views of the city in glorious winter sunshine and well worth the exercise. I finally dragged myself back down again and had a wander around. Did you know that the Archbishop of York is the second highest ranking clergyman in the land? I guess an archbishop comes at the top of the hierarchy in the church of England and the Archbishop of Canterbury is the top man. The sheer size of the diocese of York also means that the archbishop is kept a very busy man. A step outside to admire the outside of the building in sunshine is much more appealing on this day.

After exploring the Minster, I stepped further into the city to be amazed at its preservation. You will find medieval, Jacobean and Georgian architecture now combined with the modern landscape of a city. There is so much to explore down winding and narrow cobbled streets. One street in particular is a favourite on Instagram, ‘the Shambles’. This crooked street with beautifully preserved, over hanging timber buildings provide the must take photo of the city. How many times has this street cropped up on Instagram pages? It is argued that it is the finest medieval street in Europe, and it is hard to disagree – people in Germany and in a city like Prague might have something to say. It really does feel like a step back in time, although its current shop holders don’t resemble the originals (a street full of butchers). There are many nooks and crannies to explore in this city and an overwhelming number of churches and museums. These museums also provide light to one of the cities more modern successes. Chocolate and sweets. We’ve all heard of the names Terrys, Cravens and Rowntree.

The success of these chocolatiers in the 19th Century owed much of its fortune to the links that the railway provided. We associate the railway with the industrial revolution, so it’s surprising that I mention it in connection with chocolate though this became an industry. The railway line gave it market access it could have only dreamt of. It also led to the beginning of the tourist trade that the city clearly thrives upon (second only to London on the number of visitors per year), as train loads of people arrived from around the country. At one point over 250 trains were arriving each day into the city. This of course led to the Victorians building a new railway station to manage the demand. By the end of the 19th century it was the railways and chocolate industries that were the biggest employers of the city. When in York, time must surely be made to visit the largest railway museum in the world. A former steam engine shed is now a converted home to some iconic engines – the Flying Scotsman, the Mallard, Stephenson’s Rocket to name but a few. Seeing these engines was a joy to see but felt a little dreary, for there is nothing more poetic than seeing these great machines in full working order. Visit the heritage railways and you’ll begin to appreciate what I mean.

York, perhaps ‘the capital city of the North’, whose fortunes rose and fell with its ties to the crown and church, was once England’s second city, and perhaps in some respects still is. I wish I had longer.  There is so much that I still haven’t seen or learned about but as so many cities claim to be modern metropolises, York’s claim to fame is its warped beauty and it remains an ancient artefact with its history is its greatest asset. York, I long to be back and to delve deeper into your layers of history.

York, England, United Kingdom
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Busted Bradford

The first sight of Bradford was of a lonely chimney billowing out white clouds into the atmosphere. Evidently smoke was pumped from the many chimneys that once “adorned” this market and industrial town. The single chimney was a poignant reminder of the past and of the changes that this city has undergone. My expectations for this city were very low. It wasn’t one of those cathedral cities that are so rich in history and beauty. It was a town for many years before that wealth of 100 years ago brought about expansion. Nowadays Bradford is associated with its diverse cultural population and industrial heritage.

My arrival into the city did not endear me to the place – lorries, dodgy ring road (how do you know where the cars are coming from on these things?) An industrial heartland clearly devoid of any real beauty. Rumour has it that if you were to leave Bradford you would find some beauty on the Ilkley Moor or in Bronte Country. The drive in was atrocious as lorries vied to control the roads. Somehow, I managed to follow signs for the cathedral and escaped the mayhem of the dual carriage ways. I dumped the car which was relatively easily in the city centre in affordable car parking. A positive. The city is perhaps one of the country’s youngest. Up until 1733 it was merely a sleepy market town surrounded by trees. Oh, how those days are long gone! My first point of interest was the cathedral. One of England’s newest and smallest perhaps? It certainly wasn’t part of the blueprint that Henry VIII created all those centuries ago. In fact, this church didn’t become a cathedral until 1919 as a new diocese was created separate from that of Ripon, which in turn had been created due to the vast size of York’s diocese. There is no mention of Leeds here, so I wait with anticipation to see what that city delivers as Bradford clearly is more than a close neighbour. It is almost like two cities merged together.

As mentioned, the cathedral is more like a large church. It is no way like the glamourous cathedrals that this country boasts. From the outside impressions this was not going to be one that would become a favourite of mine. Perhaps its beauty was to be found on the inside. I stepped inside with intrigue and was immediately impressed to see the welcoming sign declaring no entrance fee! Well done. My visit inside interrupted some form of gathering, so I rather silently and fleetingly made my way round the edges. The inside is not the work of art that others boast; this was clean and pristine and almost new. It still had some fascinating stained-glass windows. One in particular was of interest as at the bottom it looked like Fountains Abbey(?). My whistle stop tour was brief unlike other cathedral visits; this one had no real appeal. The outside on one side looked like it had experienced TLC, the other side a polar opposite. Weeds and overgrown grass covered an unloved graveyard.

I left the cathedral in search of what might be the city’s charms. Would I find any, who knew? Its reputation didn’t promise many. But, isn’t that the fun of travelling and exploring? I immediately came across the main shopping complex, a modern monstrosity which somehow seemed like a clinically clean establishment in an otherwise dirty environment. I was immediately drawn to ‘to let’ signs in a window. Was this a sign of things to come or the ever-increasing confirmation that our high street is dying. You could say that the internet is the cancer that is destroying town life. Every now and then councils and governments give these towns a fresh hope of new life after a makeover, but slowly and surely their chances of survival decreases by the day. To get to the city centre I came around the Kala Sangam, an art centre. Lying in between the new mall and Kala Sangam a statue to the WE Forster (who he is – I don’t know; a search on the internet shows that he was an industrialist, philanthropist and generally good guy). In passing I read about another good guy (still with us) from further up country who is trying to revitalise a town, the name of which escapes me. In an interview he described the word philanthropist as a ‘vomit-inducing’ word. Very interesting coming from one who wishes to plough some of his wealth back into society. Back to Bradford. In glorious sunshine this statue gave a positive feel to the centre. A quick walk through the modern hustle and bustle and I was off to find the city park and town hall. It was here that you can begin to see where Bradford’s reputation lies. Buildings not in use, lost souls wandering the streets aimlessly, a prolific police presence. Now I was beginning to see where the city’s tarnished reputation came from. I felt like a foreigner as two distinct cultures are evident. I was amazed to pass a cycle shop that displayed a sign claiming that this was the city of cycling. A thousand bikes in Amsterdam or Beijing it was not. I can’t recall seeing anyone pedalling.

I won’t say this was my most treasured or favourite city walks, there was a fear that accompanied my every step. There was no clear heart and soul of the city. Instead a trail of mess, abandoned stores, homeless people and carefree individuals strolling about the place. Also throw in an evident mixture of cultures and it made for a diverse spectacle. I walked round, passed Bradford’s idea of the flatiron building from New York and made my way to the town hall which was something that you would associate with our friends across the pond than a city in England. This is clearly a focal point of the city centre. Next to it lies the modern enhancement of a Mirror pool. On arrival I thought it was a puddle left by the heavy rain, but it was put there on purpose. When the wind died down it did provide puddlegram opportunities of the highest order. A park in the city centre naturally attracts all that’s good and bad with a city, people happily mingle on lunch breaks on one side as rowdy and noisy kids boom out their modern rap music for all to hear. A pleasant and yet equally forgettable experience.

From here I made my way to the theatre Alhambra. Its appearance is more in line with that of a mosque than a west end theatre. It was perhaps surprising to see my favourite west end shows advertised on the outside – ‘The Lion King’. Directly next to it is the science and media museum. If more time was available this should be visited as it’s free to enter and has links to the city’s history of film and photography. Lying in between the two (the museum & the theatre) are the war memorials and a Victoria statue.

Bradford became wealthy in Victorian times. Perhaps they thought she was recognisable. The wool mills that made it a virtual capital of the world clearly brought wealth and prosperity. Sadly, this wealth looks a thing of the past. A visit to the industrial museum shows the power that once was associated with this place. Old machinery is now a thing of heritage keepsake as more modern advancements mean these machines are redundant. A visit to the museum shows the size of these enormous, “satanic mills” that were surely a death trap to most but, the sale of the products they made lined the pockets of a few. There are many information signs confirming the perils and dangers of working in such an environment. Children were sold to the mills in order to grow personal income. How times have changed! Health and safety, slavery, equality and working rights personnel, had they existed, would have had a field day. There were other exhibitions in the museum that provided insight to Bradford’s association with cars. It was a pleasurable to admire the quality of craftsmanship. My short visit gave me enough of an insight into the tough and hard upbringings that the people of the city must have endured.

So, my voyage into the unknown has provided me with much food for thought. With expectations low, a reputation it clearly needs to shake up, the city provided many a good photo, but that shouldn’t muddle the mind. For this is a place that shouldn’t be visited alone and with your senses focussed. It has given me some sight into the industrial revolution some 200yrs ago, but as we now encounter a technological & social revolution, the similarities with a past industrial revolution might soon be there for all to see with the demise of the high street.

Bradford, England, United Kingdom
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Ripon Rising

Here I was leaving Ripon after a pleasant evening spent there after work and blissfully unaware that I was leaving an English city until I walked pass a sign that said, “cathedral city of the Yorkshire dales”. On this mission to write a blog about every city in England I really should do some study and form a definitive list in order to start planning rather than just stumbling across these places. As I walked around, I genuinely thought I was in a small town that boasted a cathedral but had not got city status. My mind was a muddle as I tried to think about what gives a city its status and ultimately forgot that this might just be one. In an attempt to enjoy my evening, I wasn’t going to turn to my phone to give me the answer, although I did ultimately.

This small and charming cathedral city has left me a little dumbfounded. So small in size and in the middle of nowhere – how did it come about? Was it created as part of a religious area? How comes a large cathedral was placed here? There are no initial and clear signs of industrial links, albeit that as I left there, I could see a canal and railway. Could its existence be traced back through farming and markets? How blind to some things I had been as my eyes were focused on a safe arrival into the city much earlier. I have so many questions as to its creation.

Upon leaving my car, the first stop was the cathedral. It seemed small compared to some, simplistic even, with nothing grand about its appearance apart from the autumn sunshine gently warming its outer shell. This is written not to take away from Rippon’s cathedral but there are certainly more attractive cathedrals in these lands. I took those dreaded steps towards the doors to see if I was going to be charged to enter. Donations only!! Well done, but once inside one is immediately drawn to the way by which these places now have to find a way of surviving – in Ripon’s case it was an art gallery on either side of the main aisles. Diversification.

Some time was spent around the cathedral capturing pictures and finally I was led to the crypt. Although I went around it backwards (entrance not that clear) I wasn’t that interested in what I saw. Upon completing some research later, I discovered that this was in fact a 7th century crypt!! Its small size meant pictures were not achievable, hence my lack of interest. Not one to fuss, I didn’t return to take a picture upon hearing rumours that this is the oldest in the land.

As these autumn evenings start to draw in, time was pressing and as this was a work trip in what I thought was a town, I marched on in search of dinner rather than fully exploring this charming Yorkshire delight. In my search of dinner, I came across the Market Square. Almost completely surrounded by buildings, there are modern roads that now enlarge the breaks in the complete market square vista. A tall and commanding pillar/statue guards the square around it. The city still to this day is full of tradition as at 9 o’clock town’s horn blower blows his horn to the four corners of the square. This tradition (the world’s longest-running unbroken daily ceremony) spans some 1100 years as is referred to as “setting the watch”. As I walk around, I notice a sign that states about rebels gathering in the square in November 1569, after capturing Barnard Castle. By January 1570 hundreds of these rebels had been hung in the square for their rebellion against Henry VIII’s dissolution.

Close to the city lies Fountains Abbey, something that must surely be explored upon returning to this area. This is a fine example of the footprint/legacy that Henry VIII left on this country. The ruins that remain still show the sheer size that abbeys/monasteries once were and, consequently, the power they once had. I would imagine that if they could be lined up against each other that Fountains Abbey would dwarf Ripon’s cathedral. It adds a layer of intrigue and one that must be explored upon returning. Was the cathedral created after the destruction of the abbey or do their histories coincide? Clearly there are signs of a church being at the site of the cathedral for many years. I look forward to discovering more of this history.

So, as I sit and write this blog, I’m still in shock that I have managed to visit another city without realising I was even in one. I’ve already stated my desire to return to Yorkshire and explore this part of the country in greater detail. Ripon has given added incentive as clearly there are some delightful areas to explore within a 10-mile radius. So, as Ripon builds to be a part of the cycling world championships, I hope I find the time to be able to recognise it on TV as the cyclists fly by. Ripon Rising I look forward to returning.

Ripon, England, United Kingdom