Festivals, Cathedrals, and Downs

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Lovely morning for a hike out to Winchester. The path goes along a river that’s positively green with algae slicks—sort of beautiful, in its own way, though I wonder if it’s healthy for the river. The cool green shade of the ivy-covered forest is wonderful for hiking in since it’s another bright sunny day. The England rain seems to be holding out on us, or else we just have really great timing and keep arriving at new places where there’s only sun. Not that I’m complaining . . . .

We arrive in Winchester and walk past the giant statue of King Alfred, which I meant to go back and get a better picture of but ran out of time. We arrived at the cathedral to find the lawn and all the market streets surrounding positively covered with traditionally costumed folk dancers and hippies selling tie-dye skirts and handmade jewelry. Apparently, we had arrived in some sort of Mayfest unawares. It was surreal to see the gothic architecture of the cathedral surrounded by a new age and Celtic spiritualists. I wonder what the old church fathers would have thought of it all.

I bought a souped-up version of a hot dog for lunch--a pork sausage in a baguette with garlic mayo and mustard—closely followed by (what else) a caramel Cadbury McFlurrie. I’m interested to keep finding that the McDonald’s over here are super classy places with really good tasting food rather than the trash heaps they are in Utah. Then a few of us browsed through the market booths. One girl in our group, Brooke, ended up buying a didgeridoo. She claims it’s the only instrument she has musical talent enough to play. The sound is amazing! Maybe I’ll take it up.

Our tour of the cathedral was amazing, and not only because there was a choir rehearsing for a concert which provided the perfect soundtrack for the experience. Winchester Cathedral was built in several different centuries, so as you looked down the transept you could see the progress of English architecture from Norman to Roman to Gothic. I was also fascinated by the stained glass—most of the original stuff was knocked out during the reformation when there was a driver to get rid of the worship of saints. A large window at the end of the cathedral is built out of fragments of the broken glass, supplemented by clear glass. The effect is very abstract but extremely stunning. There was some sort of modern art exhibit going on, so random bits of plastic-y sculpture littered the cathedral, an interesting contrast to the old stone architecture. Oh yeah, and Jane Austen’s grave is here, along with a stained glass window dedicated to her memory.

The tour went a little long, so we had to rush from the cathedral in order to catch our coach to the ferry that would take us to the Isle of Wight, where Alfred, Lord Tennyson, spent a good deal of his writing life. The hostel we’re staying in is gorgeous, and we’re the only ones here for the next three days, so we’ve really got the run of the place. After eating dinner, we walk about a mile up the hill to Tennyson Downs. It’s a grassy spot on the top of the cliffs overlooking the ocean with a giant Celtic cross monument to Tennyson. We arrive at sunset and the horizon is blurring so you can’t tell where the ocean begins and the sky ends. I feel like I’m inside a beautiful giant blue orb. The cliffs are breathtaking and very dangerous—they’re only made of chalk, so they crumble easily. I’m too nervous to get near the edge, so instead I sketch the view of the cliffs and the ocean and do some writing to the background music of the didgeridoo and tin whistles.

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