UK Travel - Part 11

The Lost World of Richard Arkwright

Derwent Valley, England

by Helen Moat

The stillness is unnerving in this dark, dank, virile valley. Nature is out of control here: ivy, moss and lichen are choking stone and tree, swallowing the stream even.

This place was once very different. I catch glimpses of the past through snaking roots and shrubbery: a gable here, an empty window there, a missing door, a roofless ruin, a right angle of walls instead of a rectangle, a pile of rubble. Further up, there’s the curved wall of an empty paint vat, a single surviving flue and a wheel pit with an empty linchpin. In an archway, there’s the worn-away convex curve of stone where a millstone once ground.

All this is the work of a man called Richard Arkwright.

Arkwright was born into the world in 1732. When his mother looked upon her new-born child, it’s unlikely she thought, “My son’s going to change the face of Britain forever,” but this is exactly what Richard Arkwright did. Because of him, the countless small-scale cottage industries that criss-crossed the British countryside largely disappeared to be replaced by huge factories that sprang up in villages, towns and cities across the land.

Arkwright grew up in the heart of England surrounded by hills and dales, in a part of the island where streams and rivers tumble through the Pennines. He saw the potential of the water’s energy to power machines that could produce goods quickly, cheaply and en-mass.

Arkwright: opportunist, designer, engineer, entrepreneur, ruthless negotiator, business magpie and self-made man, developed among other things: the spinning frame, the water frame and carding engine. He established the great mills that still line Britain’s waterways. And although some mills existed before Arkwright came to the fore, it was Arkwright who created the modern factory – a hundred years before Henry Ford was born. He is the father of the Industrial Revolution.

In the heart of England, the Derwent Valley Mills line the A6 road between Derby and Matlock, great monuments to the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, and are so historically significant that they have been given World Heritage status.

If you take the A6 road, you are truly travelling through history. In Cromford, absurdly narrow 2-up-1-down terraced houses line the streets, built by Arkwright to house his workers.

His employees were fiercely loyal to Arkwright. After all he provided them with money, homes, even a week’s holiday (as long as they didn’t leave the village). He also refused to employ children under the age of seven. But he was a strict and fearsome autocrat; a man of his times.

Still on the A6, and just a short distance from Cromford, is Masson Mill. Here Arkwright built a large, rambling Gothic house that towers over the mill – directly across the road. Arkwright’s employees were constantly reminded that their employer was watching them – even when not in the mill. And Arkwright kept a hawk eye on his workers at all times, locking the factory gates precisely at 6am every morning. If a worker didn’t make it in time, regardless of the reason, they lost a day’s wages.

Across the valley from Masson Mill (now a shopping outlet housing a small Arkwright museum), you can see Willersley Castle. Arkwright tiring of the gloomy Rock house situated in a narrow, shady valley, bought a large tract of land from Florence Nightingale’s family and set out to build an elegant mansion on the sunny side of the valley. However, as luck would have it, the house burnt down on completion and Arkwright had to wait a further two years before the rebuilt house was complete. But fate was to conspire against him and poor Arkwright died before he could ever move in.

Just outside Matlock, slightly off the Derwent trail, is Lumsdale, a forgotten wooded gorge. It lies off a narrow country lane, obscured by thick undergrowth.

Few venture here, yet it’s a place of strange decaying beauty. The first mill was built here in the 1600s. By the height of the Industrial Revolution, there were at least seven mills crammed into this narrow dale. Arkwright, of course, was at the centre of Lumsdale’s expansion.

I make my way up the steep-sided ravine, passing through the ruins of the old mills.

Closing my eyes, I can almost smell the ground minerals, the crunched bone of animal, the chaff of the wheat and the woven cotton. If I concentrate, I can almost hear the millstone grinding and the voices of mill workers hanging in the heavy, dust-filled air.

Climbing high above the dale, I look down at the waterfall that spills a hundred feet. Transparent pebbles of water bounce into the air. Below, the stream is bracken-brown. At the water’s edge, great green and russet slabs of stone sculpt the valley, like heavy, angular communist monuments.

This place, once crammed with workers, is almost devoid of human life now: there’s just the odd pair of hikers, a solitary dog walker or the occasional bunch of wild local children creating their own worlds in this mysterious place.

Finally I’m up. I sit by the last surviving mill pond of three, pondering this forgotten heritage. A black Labrador appears and bounds to the water’s edge, breaking the glassy surface of the water with his snout. The inverted landscape trembles. Mallards fly out of yellowed reeds. A flock of crows rise up on the hillside in an echo.

As I sit here, I wonder what Arkwright would have made of this once industrial hub, now slowly returning to nature. And I wonder what he would make of post-industrial Britain, his factories all but gone, and his mills converted into flats – or shopping centres filled with goods manufactured far across the world.

And I think to myself: he might just turn in his grave.

Ten Lakes Spectacular Tour of the Lake District from Keswick

If You Go:

♦ The Derwent Valley is accessible by bus or train from Derby. Stop off in Cromford. Visit Scarthin Books (taking in the picturesque mining terraced houses). The bookshop is well-stocked with local literature (including books about Arkwright). Enjoy English eccentricity at its best with quaint rooms filled with an odd assortment of objects and furniture -including a bathroom that actually has an ancient roll-top bath in it, and an organic café hidden behind a curved bookcase!

♦ Walk down to the Cromford Mill.

♦ Take time to have a stroll along the Cromford Canal to High Peak Junction with its railway carriages and impossibly steep railway track (now dismantled). If you make it to the top, you will be rewarded with brilliant views of Cromford (including Arkwright’s two homes). Make it a circular walk by dropping down through the fields into the village again. Derwent Valley Mills

♦ Walk the short distance along the A6 (or take the bus) to Masson Mill. Enjoy a little retail therapy in this shopping outlet and book a guided tour of the Arkwright Museum – where weaving still happens.

♦ Enjoy the charms of Matlock Bath, a Victorian tourist town that feels as if it should be by the sea (but isn’t!) Take the cable car up to the Heights of Abraham and enjoy a guided tour of the caves.

♦ Continue on to Matlock. Take a taxi to the Lumsdale Site from Matlock. (It’s a 1 mile walk from Matlock centre.) Feel the presence of Arkwright and the Industrial Revolution in this hauntingly, beautiful place that is slowly returning to nature.

Derwent Valley Tours Now Available:

Derwent River Valley and Coal River Valley Tour from Hobart

River Derwent White Water Rafting Day Trip from Hobart

Derwent River Private Harbour Cruise on the ‘Odalisque’ from Hobart

About the author:
Helen Moat spent her childhood in the back of her Dad’s Morris Minor, travelling for hours at a time all over Ireland (or so it seemed). Rather than putting her off, she is still happiest when on the road – and writing about it. She has won prizes in several travel writing competitions, including runner-up with the British Guild of Travel Writers in 2011 and has been published in The Daily Telegraph and the Guardian, Wanderlust Magazine – and various on line travel magazines. You can find more on the writer’s blog at: moathouse-moathouseblogspotcom.blogspot.co.uk

All photos are by Helen Moat:
Willersley Castle
Cromford Mill
Richard Arkwright portrait
Masson Mill
View through a doorframe
Last surviving millpond
A remaining flue

England: Afternoon Tea at Danesfield House

by Angela Allman

“Hi. We have a reservation for afternoon tea for two, please. At 4:45.”

In my American ignorance, I thought afternoon tea simply referred to the hot drink of water and loose leaves, served with milk and sugar, when in fact, it does not. ‘Tea’ in Britain can also be used to refer to a meal, no matter how big or small.

Afternoon tea is a time-honored tradition in Britain, and this is my first proper tea experience. It is believed that the 7th Duchess of Bedford, Anna, started the fashionable trend in the 19th century. At the time, two meals a day were customary, morning and night. The Duchess began ordering tea and snacks to her room to ward off hunger and lift the afternoon ‘sinking feeling’. She then began inviting her friends around, and the trend soon spread like wildfire throughout the country.

Today, it’s not a regular practice but an occasional excuse to wear your most fashionable attire, where even the working class can behave like an aristocrat if only for a few hours, speaking in terms of oneself. For example, ‘One should never slurp, but sip one’s tea.’

I am wearing simple white linen trousers, a black tube top, and flip-flops. Stonie is in jeans and flip-flops also. Somewhere caught between our footwear and tattoos, we don’t necessarily blend in at the Danesfield House, an award-winning, posh hotel and spa in the English countryside.

We are a bit early and have a chance to amble round the gardens. Pebble pathways weave like a labyrinth through trimmed hedges in varying shades of green. A fountain sits in the center with a cherub standing on top and the soft sound of trickling water. We watch a bride and groom looking out over the cliff, down to the River Thames. His arm wraps around her slender waist over the buttons elegantly running down the back of her lace dress. Their guests photograph them as they laugh and kiss in the late afternoon sun.

Our table is ready and we make our way back to the Orangery, an atrium-turned café, passing the white iron patio seating, bucket stands of champagne, and the sophisticates soaking in the Sunday rays. We enter the glass building and are ushered to our table. I sit down near the window, and Stonie sits across from me. The table is set with crisp white linens and a full set of cutlery, gently reflecting in the glass tabletop, and a menu laying on a black slate place mat. I open the menu. The top reads, ‘At half past three, everything stops for tea.’ We order two of the classics, Danesfield Afternoon Tea. Stonie chooses the Darjeeling tea, while I opt for the Ceylon.

We sit back in our sleek armchairs and people watch through the windows. Our separate teapots arrive along with sugar cubes and milk in a sterling silver pitcher. I lift my teapot and pour it into my cup. The tealeaves come pouring out with it. I look over the table at Stonie, sheepishly, and see that he has made the same mistake.

“Amateurs,” he says with a smile. We chuckle, dump our teacups back into the pot and try again with the mini strainer. I add milk and a raw sugar cube and stir.

“Now, you have to drink it like this,” Stonie demonstrates, sipping his tea with thumb and three middle fingers gripping the delicate handle, pinky finger extended straight into the air. I laugh and mimic him.

Then a three-tiered platter is brought out. The top tier holds a heaping pile of scones, (similar to biscuits in the U.S.). The middle tier has two ramekins, one with strawberry jam and one with Cornish clotted cream. And the bottom tier has small rectangle sandwiches. Next to the tower is a platter of bite-sized desserts with a selection of tarts, brownies and cakes.

We start on the sandwiches. They’re thinly spread with different fillings, like hummus, roast beef, and egg mayo. Frankly, I am not impressed. They’re made with commercially packaged bread, crusts are cut off and only about 1/3 of the slice is used. I wonder what they do with the rest of the sandwich. If I’m going to pay £21 for sandwiches, I would like fresh bakery-worthy bread, not the Wonder bread my mom used for bologna sandwiches in my school sack lunch. However, this is traditional afternoon tea, and that’s the way the sandwiches are made. Besides, I’m hungry.

We finish off the sandwiches and move onto the scones. I top up my tea. I’ve never had Cornish clotted cream. I ask Stonie, “Can you put the clotted cream and the jam together?” thinking I’d be breaking some unwritten teatime law.

“You can do whatever you like,” he replies.

I cut a raisin scone in half and spread the jam first, then the cream. It’s so thick, I use my finger to scrape it off the spoon and lick my finger clean. Not the best manners, I’m aware, but we’ve already broken so many other rules of etiquette.

The scones are absolutely delicious. Fresh and warm. There’s a slight saltiness to the dough, a nice complement with the sweet cream and the jam. We have two scones each, and Stonie goes for a third. We don’t talk. We simply revel in the gluttony. I’m filled up, but we’re indulging ourselves. I start on a strawberry tart. Then a fudge brownie. Then a lemon cake. Stonie joins in on the desserts. I cut the lemon cake in half to share. He devours the piece in one mouthful. Fruit cake. Almond cake. Another tart. And then…

“I can’t eat one more thing,” I sigh, sitting back in my chair. Good thing I’ve worn loose-fitting pants, I think.

“Alright, I’ll have the last scone,” Stonie says, helping himself and finishing off the clotted cream. He’s about to stick his finger in the ramekin to wipe it clean, a naughty gleam in his eye. He thinks twice and says, “If we were home, I’d lick it clean.” He sets it down and eats the last scone with content satisfaction.

I refill my teacup one last time. By now, my tea is over-brewed and bitter. I have a few sips and decide against it.

Stonie asks for the bill, £21 each ($34). We leave completely satiated.

“Next time, let’s go for the champagne tea,” I say with a smile.

Highlights of London Walking Tour Including Afternoon Tea

If You Go:

Visiting Jane Austen on a Moterbike

South Downs, England

by Darlene Foster

Our delightful visit to England included Yorkshire and North Wales. Viewing the countryside with its stone hedges and ancient castles was made even more enjoyable as we hurtled down narrow roads on a motorcycle.

We had one thing left to do before flying back to Canada; deliver the motorbike to its new owner in London. We traveled down from York, stopped for lunch at a pub in Cambridge overlooking the Thames and watched the rowers practice. As we rode towards London, I was puzzled when we didn’t turn off the M1 taking us into Guildford, but turned east. Soon I recognized signs for Alton, Strawberry Hill, Steventon and Chawton. We were on our way to visit my hero, Jane Austen! My dear husband had planned this as a surprise for me.

As my knight in shining armour parked the pearl white Honda Goldwing in front of Chawton Cottage, he said, “Take your time. I’m going for a tea.” He pointed at Cassandra’s Tea Shop across the road.

I couldn’t believe I was actually there. Chawton Cottage, a charming 17th century, three story red-brick house, was Jane Austen’s home for the last eight years of her life. I entered the front door thinking about how many times dear Jane had crossed that threshold. When I mentioned I had come all the way from Canada, and I was a member of the Jane Austen Society of North America, the kindly receptionist waved the entry fee.

There I stood in Jane’s house, a gift from her brother which she shared with her mother and her sister Cassandra; the place she wrote most of her work. I entered the parlour and gingerly touched the little round table she wrote on. Prickles ran up and down my arms. I had seen some of her original writing at the British Museum a few years earlier, but this seemed more real. I imagined Jane slipping her writing under a book whenever someone entered. Although she often shared her writing with her family, she only did so when she was ready.

The house, very much as it was when Jane lived there at the start of the 19th century, displays family paintings on the walls. The pianoforte Jane played her music on when no one was around, adorns one corner of the drawing room.

I climbed the stairs to Jane’s bedroom. The first thing I noticed was the patchwork quilt, made with her sister and mother, hanging on one wall. Each floral, diamond patch stitched meticulously into place surrounding a large basket of cheerful flowers in the centre, reminded me of the hours of labour that would have gone into this undertaking. The bed she slept on, covered in crisp white linen, sits peacefully in a corner. On another wall hangs a topaz cross, a gift from one of her beloved brothers and most probably the inspiration for the topaz cross given to Fanny Price by her brother in the novel, Mansfield Park. A window overlooks the garden. Jane spent many happy hours in this room. When she grew ill, she entertained her visitors here.

Other rooms upstairs house Regency period costumes, carefully preserved and displayed. I enjoyed viewing the muslin, floor length dresses with Empire waists and soft loose skirts in pale pinks, periwinkle blues and lilacs, such as Jane would have worn. At least she did not have to deal with the constraints of a tightly laced corset. Memorabilia of her two Royal Navy brothers, Frank and Charles, can be found in adjoining rooms.

I felt Jane’s presence everywhere in the house, but nowhere near as much as in the lovely garden surrounding Chawton Cottage. I could sense Jane taking a turn around the garden, delighting in the many varieties of herbs and flowers, and resting on the rustic garden bench. Even her old donkey cart, which carried her around when she was too ill to walk, lives on in the bakehouse.

Back in the cottage I chatted with the host and perused the comprehensive selection of Jane Austen books. Of course I could not resist purchasing a few (not that I needed to read anything else about J.A.) I also chose a few souvenirs and postcards before I bid Jane, the house and her memories goodbye. I walked across the street to Cassandra’s Tea Shop to meet my husband, who had downed three cups of tea, ate two pieces of lemon loaf and washed the bike while waiting for me. He asked how my visit was.

“Jane was most happy I visited her and approved of my arrival on a motorcycle.”

It was a sweet view – sweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure, English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright, without being oppressive.
– from ‘Emma’, Jane Austen’s novel written at Chawton Cottage and published in 1815

If You Go:

By vehicle:
To get to Chawton Cottage from London take M25 Junction 10 onto A3 towards Guildford, Follow A3 along Guildford bypass and onto A31. Follow A31 past Farnham and Alton, and at Chawton roundabout (A31/A32), Jane Austen’s House is signposted.

By public transit:
Trains from London (Waterloo), run hourly to Alton.
By bus: connection (Route X64) from Alton Railway Station to Alton Butts then a 12 minute walk down Winchester Road into Chawton village.
Admission Charges: Adults £7.50, Senior Citizens / Students £6.00, Children (6-16 years) £2.00, Under 6 free

More information:

Jane Austen’s House

Jane Austen Social Appreciation

Chawton (Jane Austin’s house) on Wikipedia

About the author:
Darlene Foster is a writer of children’s travel/adventure books, short stories and travel articles. Brought up on a ranch near Medicine Hat, Alberta, she dreamed of traveling the world, meeting interesting people and writing stories. She has made it her mission to discover the uniqueness of places and write about them. www.darlenefoster.ca

All photos are by Darlene Foster.

Exploring the Great Castles of North Wales

by Roy A. Barnes

The country of Wales may only be small, but every nook and cranny is full of history. 500-plus castles can be found in this part of the United Kingdom, in various degrees of disrepair and/or restoration, often seen on the hillsides as one speeds down the busy motorways. I explored five really special ones, coming away with a greater appreciation of Welsh history and its people.

A sense of déjà vu at Conwy Castle

The coastal city of Conwy, about 45 minutes drive from Manchester’s airport, proudly displays its old medieval walls, many of which can be walked on. Three gateways remain standing in the city that dates back from the time of Edward I and his post-conquest activities of North Wales in 1282. But even more conspicuous is the UNESCO World Heritage Site Conwy Castle [TOP PHOTO].

When it was built from 1283-1289, it was at great expense (some £15,000 – equivalent to £15 million today) to help serve as one of his “Iron Ring” castles that helped to keep the English safe in Wales while fortifying his new empire there. The exterior and interior walls remain relatively intact, and I found them to be quite an experience walking through the various rooms from the king’s chamber, dining hall, kitchen, and prison. I felt as if I were back in medieval times, especially when I went inside the castle chapel, where the soundtrack of Gregorian monks was playing in the midst of displays about Christianity’s role in that time. I also was fascinated by the countless arrow slits carved into the walls, expecting a shooter to be taking aim.

Two fortified gateways and eight towers help make up the grandness of this place. Four of them contain high towers where I got stunning views of the city, sea, and Conwy Mountain. And as I walked up the spiraling staircases to get those views with only the help of ropes to keep me from falling, I could feel a sense of “home sweet home” in each part of the structure, despite its massive size overall, where now the only “royals” taking up residence there are pigeons and gulls.

Bodelwyddan Castle: a National Portrait Galley hub

Even though Wales is famous for medieval castles, one such “mock” castle off the A55 motorway (a 30 minute drive from the Welsh border) is notable. It serves as an outpost for London’s National Portrait Galley: Bodelwyddan Castle. Bodelwyddan stands on land where property ownership purportedly goes back before the time of the Norman Conquest, and has recorded history dating from 1461, when the Humphreys family got this land as compensation for being booted off the Isle of Angelsey by Edward IV. From 1830-1850, the prominent Sir John Williams led the creating of an old time castle, including adding limestone walls, which actually were heated to protect the fruit orchards during cold weather.

My senses took in the pastoral surroundings of Bodelwyddan on a partly cloudy and blustery day as I walked up the hill, noticing mature parkland where sheep were snacking on grass. Surrounding the castle is an array of well-manicured gardens and footpaths where the sound of singing blackbirds in the beech and oak trees interrupted the whistling of the gusts. Once inside the castle, I was immediately greeted by a large painting of Queen Victoria. This branch of the National Portrait Gallery stresses Victorian Era portraits of prominent British people, hung in rooms that were restored in the 1980s to emulate the reserved opulence of the Victorian lifestyle. The library itself copies that time with more fakery – painted books for the library and wood panelling that’s really painted plaster, known as “trompe l’oeil,” French for “trick the eye.” Yet real Victorian furnishings do abound here, from furniture to a grand 1840s billiard table as well as a Williams silver centrepiece made that’s insured for £250,000.

For the kids, there’s an interactive games and dress up area on the third floor of the home, which happens to get the most reports of paranormal activity.

Stand where Prince Charles once stood at Caernarfon Castle

If you want to know just how hard life was for the common man back then, just visit a medieval fortress like Caernarfon Castle on a cold and rainy morning like I did. As I walked through its long passageways and explored the interior rooms whose walls are still intact some 700 years after being built, the chill and drafts went through my layered clothing to my bones. Much of the castle walls, both interior and exterior, remain intact from the time they were constructed between 1283-1330. After Edward I conquered Wales, he imagined a grand castle based on the dream of Roman emperor Magnus Maximus (whose body was found in the area). Maximus envisioned such a place located within a city amidst mountains and opposite an island (matching Caernarfon’s description), so James of Saint George was put in charge of building in this “dream city.”

The king also fashioned the polygonal and colored band walls (some twenty feet thick) after those of Constantinople to serve as the “capital” of North Wales, even creating a new town, destroying the old Welsh settlement. Locals were conscripted as manpower, and were paid in silver pennies.

Despite all the expense, many of the plans for it never materialized, and it shows today as I noted the various stones sticking out of walls for future development. Normally, the castle had 20-40 people defending it in its early days. What made the castle easier to defend were the ingenious way that three soldiers with bow and arrows could be stationed to shoot through what appeared on the inside of the castle to be three arrow slits, but in effect, those three arrows would come out through just one slit in the outer wall of this UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Caernarfon was once a motte and bailey castle (castle on a mound surrounded by a courtyard). This mound still resides within the courtyard as a dais made of Welsh slate, and was the scene of two Princes of Wales getting their official titles, that being Edward VIII in 1911 and then Prince Charles in 1969. The northeast tower has an extensive exhibit of those two investitures, including Charles’ BBC telecast. Charles immediately walked through the Queen’s Gate to greet his subjects, something which I got to do, as a special balcony still remains for photo opps.

I got even more appreciation of Welsh castle history at Caernarfon Castle via a 20-plus minute feature film called the “Eagle and the Dragon,” where actors dressed in medieval period costumes stages some reenactments, and still photos helped history visually come alive. It’s located in the Eagle Tower, where the king would reside when he was in Caernarfon, and which was protected above by a cluster of high turrets that can be explored. The King’s room itself was grand, and did contain a personal chapel and fireplace to help fend off the chill. The Queen’s Tower also has remnants of nicer accommodations, and it’s here where many artifacts and exhibits on the history of the Welsh armies are featured.

Splurge on the “Grey Lady” ghost at Ruthin Castle

While the Vale of Clwyd is at the bottom of some incredible footpaths with steep angles going up hundreds of feet in the Clwydian Hills that’ll challenge any hiker, the town of Ruthin (an hour’s drive from Manchester) has a castle with the same namesake that’s located just above the base of the valley. It sits on grounds once allegedly housing a fort where King Arthur kept a little “love nest” for one of his mistresses dating before the Norman conquest, but it’s confirmed date for a standing edifice dates back to 1277, when Edward I secured it for his kingdom against the rebellious Welsh.

Though much of the castle wall remain intact despite the 11 weeks of shelling it withstood during the English Civil War in 1646 plus subsequent neglect, improvements were made during Queen Victoria’s reign. I found improvements outdoors, but also indoors via the décor on the inside that tries to imitate the Victorian Era, especially with the as “trompe l’oeil” wallpaper jobs that can be found in the spacious rooms that contain all the modern conveniences medieval kings would deem as sorcery: big screen TVs, free internet access, and electronic heat control.

I explored what was left of the medieval fortifications by walking around the old walls, and was greeted by some of the 16 peacocks who live there and wail away while the sun is up. I also went to the gravesite of the “grey lady,” who was buried after being executed for killing the lover of her husband, one of the commanders of Edward I. I didn’t see anything mid-afternoon, so I waited until dusk to try to find this poor soul, but alas, she was no where to be found.

If You Go:

♦ Conwy Castle: www.castlewales.com/conwy.html
♦ Caernarfon Castle www.castlewales.com/caernarf.html
♦ Bodelwyddan Castle: www.bodelwyddan-castle.co.uk/
♦ Ruthin Castle: www.ruthincastle.co.uk
♦ Visit Wales: www.visitwales.com

About the author:
Roy A. Barnes attended a press trip sponsored by Visit Wales, but what he wrote were his own impressions without any scrutiny or vetting by the sponsor. The author resides in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and is a frequent contributor to Travel Thru History.

All photos are credited to Roy A. Barnes, and may not be used without permission:
1. Conwy Castle
2. Bodelwyddan Castle
3. Caernarfon Castle: Inside walls
4. Ruthin Castle: Medieval Victorian Exteriors
5. Ruthin Castle: Medieval walls and Peacock

The Quest for the Book of Kells

Ireland and Scotland

by Troy Herrick

After six years, I arrived in Dublin under gray overcast skies. The quest was about to be completed; the circle was about to be closed and loose ends tied together. With the Indiana Jones theme playing in my mind, I was all set to gaze upon the most decorated manuscript to survive from the Early Middle Ages in Europe – the Book of Kells.

Old Library, Trinity College Dublin – 2012

Anticipation slowly rose as I traversed each room, stopping to read every detail about this holy book and its convoluted history. Entering the dimly lit Treasury Room at the end of the hall, I discovered four books displayed inside a glass case. The Book of Kells, divided into two tomes, was accompanied by the Book of Durrow and the Book of Armagh. Clearly the jewel in the crown was the four Gospels assembled into the Book of Kells.

Visitors see four vellum pages of this ancient manuscript – one volume open at a major decorated page and the other open to show two text pages with smaller decorations. As I studied the detail of each image with naked eye, I wished that I had a magnifying glass to better appreciate the complexity of design. I envisioned cross-eyed monks drawing each image using only a quill.

As many as ten different colours have been utilized in these illustrations. Many of these pigments had been imported from the farthest corners of the world almost 1200 years ago. The lapis lazuli in particular came from the area that is now present-day Afghanistan. One can only imagine the exorbitant cost of these paints given that this region of Europe was at the end of the trade routes. Furthermore the island of Iona in Scotland, where work on the Book of Kells began, was quite isolated at that time. Suddenly I had a flashback to the island of Iona in Scotland.

Iona, Scotland – 2006

A chilly wind and a gray overcast sky greeted Diane and me as we set foot on Iona, the birthplace of Christianity in Scotland. St Columba (Colmcille) and twelve companions founded the first monastery here in 563 CE. Almost nothing remains of that original settlement because it had been replaced by St. Mary’s Cathedral, a Benedictine abbey church dating to 1200 CE. You might be surprised to find that this is a working abbey today, operated by an ecumenical community known as the Iona Commonwealth.

Set outside the abbey church to the left of the front door, you find a little greyish brown stone building known as St. Columba’s Shrine. Reconstructed in 1962, the lower portion of this structure may date to the 8th century. Tradition holds that St. Columba’s relics were once housed in this structure (he died in 597 CE and his relics were divided between Scotland and Ireland).

A short distance in front of St. Columba’s Shrine, you find St. John’s Cross. This is a copy of an 8th century high cross displayed in the nearby Monks’ Infirmary now serving as a museum. The original cross was painstakingly reconstructed from fragments found on site. Another item of note in the museum is St. Columba’s Pillow, a stone with a ringed cross carved into it. This treasure is stored inside a small metal cage. There is no proof that the saint’s head ever rested on this pillow however.

Also associated with 8th century Iona is the Book of Kells. Columban monks began transcribing the Gospels around the year 800 CE but never completed them on site. The monks were displaced from Iona in 802 CE when Vikings torched the monastery. Returning to Ireland accompanied by their precious work-in-progress, the monks settled in Kells in 804 CE to re-establish another Columban monastery founded by the saint in 550 CE. Almost twelve centuries later, Diane and I followed them to the Emerald Isle and Kells.

Kells, County Meath, Ireland – 2012

It was déjà vu all over again; a chilly wind and a gray overcast sky greeted Diane and me at St. Columba’s Church in Kells. This church, set on the site of the original Monastery of Kells, dates to 1778. The churchyard also contains a number of high crosses and a 26-meter round tower all dating back to the early monastic period and the arrival of the Book of Kells.

Round towers were a symbol of a monastery’s power in early Ireland, often serving as bell towers and repositories for sacred items. At the same time, the “conspicuous” towers identified monasteries as attractive targets for the pagan Vikings. The Norsemen raided the monastery at Kells several times during the 10th century.

During times of attack, the monks retreated inside the round tower through an entrance 3-4 meters off the ground and then pulled up the ladder. Paradoxically these towers do not appear to be very defensible because all the Vikings had to do was build a large fire below the doorway and smoke the occupants out.

History does not record that the Book of Kells was ever part of any Viking booty but it was stolen by the locals in 1009 from a small church that once existed in the churchyard. The book was eventually recovered but the cover was damaged beyond repair and had to be replaced.

Learning their lesson, the monks constructed St. Colmcille’s House across the street from the present day churchyard as a more secure location for their precious manuscript and the relics of St. Columba. This dimly lit, empty stone building served as a monk’s dwelling and a scriptorium. The monk’s sleeping quarters in the loft above is still accessible by ladder.

The holy book remained in Kells for over 800 years until 1653 when it was transferred to Trinity College in Dublin. Since the mid 19th century, the Book of Kells has been on public display in the Old Library and now Diane and I had the opportunity to see this historical treasure in Dublin and complete the quest.

Boyne Valley Hill of Tara and Kells Private Tour from Dublin

If You Go:

The Book of Kells Exhibition is located in the Old Library at Trinity College in Dublin. Admission was 9 Euros. Check out the Trinity College website for more details. Visitors are not permitted to photograph the Book of Kells.

Purchase the Heritage Island Tour Guide at the nearest Tourist Information Office for a discounted admission to the Book of Kells exhibit. www.heritageisland.com

Admission to Iona Abbey is £4.70

St. Columba’s Church of Ireland is located on R 163 in the center of Kells, just west of the intersection of N3 and N52. Admission to the churchyard is free.

St. Colmcille’s House – for admission, follow the directions provided on the gate. Admission is free but a tip is customary. For more information about Ireland, visit www.plan-a-dream-trip.com/discover-ireland.html. and Scotland, visit www.plan-a-dream-trip.com/scotland-tours.html Plan your vacation at: www.plan-a-dream-trip.com

Photographs:

All photographs are by Diane Gagnon. A freelance photographer, she has traveled extensively in North America, the Caribbean, Europe and parts of South America.

Contributor’s Bio:

Troy Herrick, a freelance travel writer, has traveled extensively in North America, the Caribbean, Europe and parts of South America. His articles have appeared in Live Life Travel, International Living, Offbeat Travel and Travels Thru History Magazines. He also penned the travel planning e-book entitled ”Turn Your Dream Vacation into Reality: A Game Plan for Seeing the World the Way You Want to See It” – www.thebudgettravelstore.com/page/76972202 based on his own travel experiences over the years. Herrick’s articles are in Live Life Travel, Offbeat Travel and Travel Thru History magazines.