York, July 21, 2013

Sunday today, and I headed out while Marthe stayed and spent a leisurely Sunday in York. I was headed for Fountains Abbey and Studley Royal, and had a quick breakfast at the hotel before heading for the 9:18 a.m. bus to Fountains. The bus finally came, and lots of locals kept getting on at each successive stop, one of which was Ripon, home of another great Norman Cathedral. At 10:23 we arrived at Fountains and I bought a ticket, heading on down a winding path, to be blown away as I rounded the last corner, to find the Abbey. Nestled in the wooded valley of the Skell River are the extensive sandstone ruins of Fountains Abbey and the outstanding water garden of Studley Royal. Fountains Abbey was founded by Benedictine monks in 1132 and then taken over by the Cistercians three years later. By the mid-12th c. it had become the wealthiest abbey in Britain, though it fell into ruin during the Dissolution of the Monasteries by Henry VIII. In 1720, a man named John Aislabie, the MP for Ripon and Chancelor of the Exchequer, developed the land and forest of the Abbey ruins. He began work, continued by his son William, on the famous water garden, statuary, and the Classical temple in the grounds. This makes an interesting contrast to the simplicity of the abbey. The dramatic abbey ruins at Fountains are the largest monastic ruins in the country. It was founded in 1132 by 13 Benedictine monks from St. Mary's in York seeking to follow a devout and simple lifestyle. Within three years the little settlement at Fountains had been admitted to the austere Cistercian order, and with that came an important development--the introduction of the Cistercian system of lay brothers. The lay brothers or laborers relieved the monks from routine jobs, giving them more time to dedicate to God. It was because of the lay brothers that Fountains became so wealthy through wool production, lead mining, cattle rearing, horse rearing and stone quarrying. In the 1300s, however, the monks had to cope with bad harvests and raids from the Scots, which led to economic collapse. This was made worse by the Black Death in 1348. Despite its financial problems, however, the abbey remained important. During the time of the Abbot Marmaduke Huby in the early 1500s, a period of revival occurred, until Henry VIII shut the abbey down. Priors and monks were sent away with pensions. The estate was sold by the Crown to a merchant, and later in the 18th c. it came to John Aislabie, who along with his son was responsible for the estate, the water gardens, the statuary and the renovation of Fountains Hall on the grounds. By 11:00 I was ready to join a tour of the abbey, which took 1 1/2 hours. Then I had a short lunch of scones and tea before extensively walking the grounds of the estate and seeing Anne Boleyn's Seat, with its brilliant view of the abbey; the Temple of Fame, the Temple of Piety and the Moon Pond; the Octagon Tower, Deer Park (home to 500 wild Red, Fallow, and Sitka deer), and St. Mary's Church, a small, lovely Victorian church built by a Marquis and Marchioness of Ripon and containing one of the most beautiful baptismal fonts, made of Tennessee marble, that I have ever seen. In all, I must have walked about 5-6 miles today, and a Yorkshire Black Cherry flavored ice cream seemed just the right ticket before catching the 16:50 bus back to York. On the bus I met a very nice woman, Mary Hook, who had been hiking, and we got into a wonderful discussion about many topics. As we were discussing how to get to Thirsk tomorrow, another man joined in, and both were most helpful to my endeavors. Mary and I exchanged addresses and info, and she has already written asking if I would like to join her and her group to hike in East Yorkshire on Wednesday. I will be at Castle Howard that day, but Marthe jumped at the chance and if all goes well will join her. I arrived back in York at 6:00 p.m. and got in just as Marthe was talking to her daughter Scilla. After the conversation had ended we recounted our experiences of the day, then went out together to the church of St. Michael le Belfrey, right next to the York Minster, to hear an interesting contemporary church service with coffee served before the service inside the church, praise band music, etc.--not really my cup of tea but nevertheless valid in its own right, I am sure. And then we quickly ran by and had soup and bread for dinner, then walked home as the sun was setting, and the bike race that had reached its apex right before we had entered the church service was at an end. Well, we have a relatively early start tomorrow, so should end this. More tomorrow as we head to Thirsk, in James Herriot country. As ever, Sylvia