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Published: November 19th 2007
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Behold, I make all things new.
(Revelation 21:5.) The glowing West Front of the York Minster. It was impossible to get an un-obscured shot because of all the trees and buildings right up against the Cathedral. I was looking forward to visiting York, but I had very little idea of what to expect... a small, picturesque walled city on the borders of Scotland, perhaps? I'd wanted to visit ever since falling in love with the slack-jawed way the Prince announced "Wallace has sacked York!" in
Braveheart. In actual fact, William Wallace didn't make it that far south, but the quote is certainly the reason behind my faulty geography!
Rich in mediaeval buildings, including the walls and the enormous Minster, York is the city of the Original Ghost Walk. Ghost walks are advertised all over England now, (and presumably in many other cities throughout the world) and I hadn't taken any before, but I couldn't resist the chance to try what would presumably be the best. Of course it has the history to furnish lots of ghosts - the Romans, the Vikings, the Normans, and the English ever since, have all called this place home. The tour meets nightly outside the King's Arms - more commonly known as
the Pub that Floods, since it is on the banks of the River Ouse, which overflows regularly every year.
You couldn't wish for a more atmospheric spot, below the road, with
York's own Leaning Tower
Clifford's Tower, up on a motte (hill.) The tower was once past of a great castle, and a lake lapped at its foot. The waters turned the inside of the hill to mush, and the tower tipped outwards. a sulky gleam reflecting off the sinister black river at our feet. Our gloved, cane-wielding guide had a vacant stare and a low, purring voice - the perfect person to try spooking you on a dark, cold evening. He told stories-a-plenty as we walked through the twisting streets of the old town, involving ghosts from each era in York's history. He had a degree of showmanship which was a little annoying, and a fairly predictable way of attempting to give frights - though he elicited several shrieks from members of the group a little less world weary than I have become. But it was fun, and a fitting introduction to the city, especially followed up with a sample of the locally brewed beer in the King's Arms - excellent and incredibly cheap - £1.60 pints are extinct everywhere else I've been!
I shook off my lethargy the next day and rampaged through the city, starting with the climb up the crooked Clifford's Tower. It was once just one of the towers surrounding York's castle, the rest of which is long gone. I hadn't
quite believed the ghost tour guide the night before when he'd explained why the walls were
Colours of the 11th century
Detail from a warped piece of the Great East Window (currently under restoration.) at such a lean: according to him, they were still moving outwards with the force of the Civil war explosion (some of the soldiers managed to blow it up by mistake.) In the cold harsh light of day they looked wonkier than ever, so I asked one of the wardens. His explanation was even more interesting: the damage was done even earlier than the 17th century. The original castle was surrounded on three sides by the city walls, which still stand, but an enormous artificial lake, stocked with fish for the King's banquets, lined the fourth side. The water from this lake leached under the castle, and made the whole thing incredibly unstable. The tower has survived at this lean for five hundred years - although in recent years it's been stabilised with concrete and steel inside the motte (mound) it is built on.
From the remains of the castle, I walked the walls. In the bright yellow light of a beautiful autumn day, with a wealth of trees displaying the season's colours all the way around the city, it was a glorious walk. From the walls there's a panoramic view around the whole city - the ancient buildings
within the walls, and the bustling modern city which has grown up outside them. I got down at each gate - unfortunately the information signs describing the features and history of each gate are below, at street level, so if you want to hear about it you can't stay up on the wall the whole time. Most of the original gateways survive, marked with the battle-scars of their life's work protecting the city.
I ate my lunch in contemplation of the York Minster, possibly the most impressive building I have ever seen - and when I walked inside half an hour later it almost instantly became my favourite church in the world. All other possible explorations for the afternoon were forgotten - I wanted to explore the place as long as I could.
Anyone who has never really been impressed by a church, or who can't see why others find such fascination in visiting them, must surely be affected by the York Minster. For a start, it is eye-wateringly immense. Walking in through the vast south transept towards the crossing, the size is a physical shock. I had tears in my eyes thinking about the effort and time
York, from Clifford's Tower.
The city outside the walls. The York Wheel, a poor imitation of the London Eye, is visible in the distance. (It only takes two minutes to revolve - what's the point!?) spent building this amazing structure, soaring upwards into detailed stone tracery on the underside of the tower far above. But it isn't just the size. It's also breathtakingly beautiful. The shapes, the ornaments, the decorations. When you look at all the tools today's architects have to create a building, it is mind-boggling to think York Minster (and all the buildings of the times) were designed using nothing but the simplest compasses...
And yet in the 1960s, all this was almost lost. Cracks were visible in the Tower's supporting walls and pillars, and tests put in place to determine the extent of the movement. The walls moved so much in the first week of the testing it became apparent the tower was in imminent danger of collapse. Delving underneath the floor of the nave, the undercroft was fully excavated for the first time, and enormous steel and concrete girdles tightened around the supporting pillars halted the movement and pinned them straight.
More was discovered about the history of the building than ever known before - and it is now all on display: the roots of a mediaeval cathedral, built on a Norman foundation, laid over a Roman street. Further
Constantine
The Roman Emperor famed for his Christianity, seated here next to the York Minster, built over five hundred years later on the spot where he had been crowned. probing revealed the mediaeval church was still resting on the original Norman foundations - a raft like layer of oak beams and rubble - even though the church was far bigger and had the extra crushing weight of the tower. Concrete was hastily injected into them, as well.
Back upstairs... and up and up - the way to the tower encompasses 275 steps and a trek across the edge of the south transept roof - but it's worth it for the view across the roof, the town, and the surrounding countryside. Again, it makes you appreciate the incredible feat of its construction: 16,000 tonnes of stone, raised up to be the highest point in the city... manually. The approach of some wintery weather and stormy wind drove me back down into the main body of the church, where I wandered happily, admiring the breathtaking window displays - the largest concentration of 14th century glass in Britain. The chapter house is incredible, too - from the restored ceiling to the cheeky faces in the ornately carved stalls. I couldn't get enough, and stayed for Evensong, which was the Minster's only disappointment: I did not think the choir up to the
challenge. But then, I am no musical critic. The atmosphere was strong enough that it did not much matter, and I left on a wave of contentment.
The next morning I was up early, and quite literally running for the bus...
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Amy
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Pretty! Although the shots of the town from up high look sort of dingy.