9 October 2008

From Hadrian's Wall to the Isle of Ewe

Sep/Octoberrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
		30	1	2	3	4
5	6	7	8	9	10	11
12	13	14	15	16	17	18
19	20	21	22	23	24	25
26	27	28	29	30

Thursday, 9 October 2008 Foggy morning. I spend some time in York Minster while waiting for the fog to burn off. The east end, with its enormous medieval stained-glass window, is unfortunately covered with tarps and scaffolding, a massive multi-year maintenance project underway. Some Roman and Norman foundations are visible in the crypt (no photography permitted down there), as well as some of the work done in the '60s and '70s shoring up the foundations of the tower. I climb the 275 steps of the tower, satisfied that it has been made safe. It's still a little hazy as I look out over the city.

The medieval city walls don't make a complete circle, but there's quite enough of them to make a full circuit on the promenade atop them. I'm guessing that, as in Chester, this walkway is a Victorian era installation, but I've seen nothing definitive on the matter. There are bits of Roman stonework here and there. I stop to photograph each of the major bars (gates), but somehow forget Bootham Bar, the one I entered the city through coming from the B&B. Not far from there are the Roman Multangular Tower, and the ruins of St Mary's Abbey.

I wander about the Shambles for a bit, marveling at the absurdly skewed medieval houses leaning overhead. "Shambles" derives from a medieval word, shamel, meaning bench or booth--it's a street of shops, in this case, particularly butchers' shops. In former times, livestock were kept and butchered on site, the waste products washed right out into the street. These days, the most unpleasant occurrence in the Shambles is a delivery truck getting its tires stuck between the narrow curbs.

I poop out midafternoon, have a half of Landlord at Harkers, and return to the B&B for a long nap. At The White Horse, a pub just outside Bootham Bar, I spend some time online, and working on photos. The evening passes quickly, and I'm lucky to find a late dinner at a pub in Stonegate. Last pint is at the Three-Legged Mare. I've left much to see here; no doubt I'll be back.

Next