ensuitepilgrim's Blog

Enjoying a four day break in our son Daniel’s house, with amusing company in the shape of Missy the kitten. Fortunately, she is a “ house cat “ and apart from roaming the house,she spends a lot of time looking at the garden through the French windows.

Berkhamsted lies on the western edge of Hertfordshire, bordering the Chiltern Hills. Over much of the last millennium it was an important market town with strong royal and literary connections; today it is a vibrant residential and cultural centre, and while it is now part of the Borough of Dacorum it has retained its own strong identity. Together with the adjoining village of Northchurch it is separated from other towns and villages by lovely countryside, all of it in the Metropolitan Green Belt and much of it classified as being an area of outstanding natural beauty.

Lying in the River Bulbourne Valley – a rare chalk stream – the town is also bisected by the Grand Union Canal and the main railway line to Euston.

There is much to discover in the surrounding countryside and with weather set fair, it was time to set off. Hill Farm was in the area chosen to explore, easily accessed from Dan’s house along a pleasantly wooded ridge.

Northchurch Common was en route.

On reaching the farm a detour was taken across part of the Ashridge Estate – 5000 acres of woodland,chalk downs and lush meadows .

Hill Farm has a shop, cafe and an outside seating area designed to interest children,in particular.

A pleasant five mile walk – back home in time for the Premier League lunchtime kick off between Liverpool and Watford..

The next day broke fair and so a longer walk was chosen,using a pull-out from Country Walking magazine…dated March 2005…doubtless there will be pathway changes afoot after 17 years. “ Beech Beauty” was the title and promised “ a charming blend of peaceful common land and glorious beech trees…a varied walk through the beautiful Ashridge Estate,now in the care of The National Trust…(plus) the vastness of Ashridge House is breathtaking.” All the ingredients for an enjoyable walk in new surroundings. The walk began at The Alford Arms,Frithden, a 3.5 mile drive from Berko.

A path immediately opposite the pub was taken,we had to stop occasionally to allow horse riders to pass – makes a change from bikes!

There followed a lengthy section through a golf course which looked like every other golf course I’ve traversed until we reached Frithsden Beeches.

BRIEF HISTORICAL RESUME OF ASHRIDGE HOUSE Courtesy of the National Trust.

Monastic Foundations

Ashridge began life as a monastery founded by Edmund of Cornwall, nephew of Henry III, in 1283 to house a holy relic. The monks were known as Bonhommes or blue friars because of the colour of their robes.

During the 13th century a deer park was established with the ancestors of the Fallow deer that still roam the estate today.

Royalty at Ashridge

Ashridge House was popular with Royalty from 1290 when Edward I held a parliament in the monastery. After the dissolution of the monasteries Ashridge became the property of Henry VIII and his children.

The Egertons

Thomas Egerton, chancellor to Elizabeth I, bought the estate in 1604. He added domestic wings to the ancient monastic buildings.

The Capability Brown connection

The Ashridge Estate has been adapted by its many owners over its history. Around 1760 Capability Brown, a famous landscape architect, worked on Ashridge’s parkland creating the Golden Valley. His work was continued 50 years later during another phase of redevelopment by one of his students, Humphrey Repton.

The Canal Duke

The third duke established the name in connection with waterways establishing the first canal in Britain to serve his industrial interests in the Mancester area. He became known as the ‘Canal Duke’ and the Bridgewater Monument was built in his memory.

The Brownlows

The Ashridge Estate passed sideways though inheritance to the Brownlow family in the 19th century. Under the third Earl Brownlow the estate developed and many famous people stayed at Ashridge House.

Ashridge in wartime

During both World Wars the house was used to train and billet troops. In the Second World War it became a convalescent home for St Albans Hospital.

Moving on,the next interesting discovery was a Buddhist Temple.

On the descent to the Alford Arms we were overtaken either by a monk, or a chef who was late for his Sunday lunch shift at the pub. A welcome pint at the pub before returning to Berko and a time to reflect…

Monday dawned wet and grey as forecast,so I went down into Berko with Hannah in the car for a spot of shopping and coffee. Berkhamsted is a very comfortable place to live – no graffiti, nor beggars,nor much multi-ethinicity, though that might change. You won’t find a Poundshop,Aldi or Lidl either! Morrisons rules,but I secretly quite like a peek in there. Even the charity shops look like boutiques.

Thankfully the rain cleared by lunchtime so it was time to use one of the aforementioned town council guides to greater Berkhamsted. This began at Berkhamsted Castle .English Heritage manage the site now and there is plentiful information about the history of the Castle on their website.

There followed a lengthy stroll along the canal and for some considerable distance the canal is overlooked by apartments and a variety of sometimes interesting houses.

This was an unexpected sight, all the more so considering how busy this stretch of canal is.

Walking on, passing some more of the abandoned water cress beds adjacent to the River Bulbourne.

At this point the walk took us away from the canal, across a road and up the tantalisingly named Sugar Lane for some distance and quite close to the very busy A41 – still some good views.

A little further on I noticed this iron marker post half obscured by the hedgerow .

The horror of finding abandoned babies on the streets of London led a retired sea captain to found a historic children’s home. The sight was common in the capital during the early 18th century and spurred Thomas Coram to campaign for a Foundling Hospital. He was successful, and in 1739 George II granted a Royal Charter for the project.

In its first decade, the Foundling Hospital at Lamb’s Conduit Fields had more than 20,000 children during the 18th and 20th centuries whose mothers were unable to care for them. Foster mothers would rear babies until they were five years old, when they would be readmitted to the hospital for an education.

In the summer of 1935 the hospital moved to an impressive new building on the Ashlyns Hall Estate in Berkhamsted, where it continued until 1955. Herts County Council took over the educational responsibilities and the buildings eventually became Ashlyns School. The building, with its girls’ and boys’ wings, extensive playing fields and imposing chapel, would have been quite a talking point in the town.

Further and more detailed background can be found on the link below.

http://www.childrenshomes.org.uk/Foundling/

And all of that was prompted by an old marker post in the hedge.

Tuesday and time to return home, via Chesham for a lunchtime meet with friends then back to Sutton Coldfield in time to go to the symphony hall to catch 10cc in concert. Lovely break,thanks Nelly & Dan.

And of course, Missy

Where are my boys?
They are in deepest water
Where are they now?
They are over the hill and far away
But they are broken men who lie low
Waiting for miracles

Old men of rock and roll
Came bearing music
Where are they now?
They are over the hill and far away
But they’re still gonna play guitars
On dead strings, and old drums
They’ll play and play to pass the time
The old wild men
Old wild men
Old wild men, waiting for miracles

Lord have mercy upon the many
Lord have mercy upon the few
Lord have mercy upon the many
Lord have mercy on me and on you

Old,Wild Men – 10cc

A final meander along the headland and beaches to Chania,with no other purpose than to enjoy the views and just walking…

The walk takes just under an hour,proceeding at a leisurely pace.

Flowers and plants are still to be found even in the driest of sand and rock.

Eventually,you come upon some low key hotel development but the beach is still accessible as you near the city.

And a sweep of whitesward atop the rocks.

Kandylakia – shrines often but not always found by roadsides – this one was on a Restaurante terrace – Although road accidents are mostly the reason for placing these shrines, on numerous occasions they are placed as a promise and a gesture of thankfulness. They celebrate miracles and those who survived dedicate a kandylaki to their patron saint.

It is a custom that every anniversary relatives and loved ones pay a visit to the shrine which draws upon the ecclesiastical tradition. This tradition represents the Greeks outlook on religion, family ties, remembrance of family history, culture and finally fate. These unique roadside shrines are there to remind us to appreciate every second and every opportunity to be alive. ( From “ Flymetothemoontravel.com”

Chania is small enough to wander the enticing side streets and alleyways without ever worrying about getting lost.

Apparently it’s good for shopping,too.

The coffee in Crete is excellent and this one was no exception,enjoyed in a favourite cafe.

Bus number 13 to Souda Bay – this proved to be an unlucky choice as much of it is off limits – no photography – A massive NATO base. There is also a huge,allied cemetery .

You can walk close by the ferry port.

Wikipedia provides basic information : Souda Bay is a bay and natural harbour near the town of Souda on the northwest coast of the Greek island of Crete. The bay is about 15 km long and only two to four km wide, and a deep natural harbour. It is formed between the Akrotiri peninsula and Cape Drapano, and runs west to east. The bay is overlooked on both sides by hills, with a relatively low and narrow isthmus in the west near Chania.

There are quays for both ferries and cruise ships.

Penultimate day was mainly spent on the beach, with a final meal out at Talos.

Cretans, well, most Greeks I know it seems, have little appreciation of the concept of timed arrangements, or indeed the passage of time itself. That morning I noticed that the church bells rang six times at seven o’clock, when I commented on this to Dimitri he just smiled and said ‘God is slow…’

Philip Mann, Second Wind, Journey to a new life in Crete.

Crete, the largest, the southernmost and the most solitary of the Greek islands, and the fifth largest of the Mediterranean, floats halfway to Africa. It is a hundred and sixty miles long and roughly thirty broad, though wasp waists and swelling salients vary this girth. It is such a steep maze of gorges and crags that distances as the crow flies have no meaning; the islanders themselves measure them by time taken to smoke cigarettes, by hours gauged by the climb or the decline of the sun, and days reckoned from daybreak to sunset; or, more often, during the Occupation, by the duration of nights. Thirty miles in some parts, meant three days (or nights) of scrambles up rocks and breakneck, treacherous descents of landslides.

George Psychoundakis, The Cretan Runner.

There were echoes of this evocative description in our revisiting the Gorge of Samaria after 43 years…They say time will tell and it did. But first let’s get to the practicalities which haven’t changed much since 1978.

An early start for this excursion. 06.15 pick up by coach at the hotel just two miles from Chania. Over and through the famous White Mountains to a cafe stop at Omalos for breakfast/ coffee, then a few more Kms to the head of the gorge, which is now a National Park. €5.00 entrance fee. Then you start descending. On completion of the walk which takes between 4-6 hours,depending on your fitness, attitude whatever, you arrive at Aghia Roumeli, now an established village , from where you take a ferry to Sougia, there the same coach takes you back to your hotel. TIMES : From Chania to the Gorge 50 mins, Walk as described. Boat – an hour , we left at 17.30. Coach to Hotel, longer than outward journey at 1 hour 45 mins. We were out for 14 hours. It was well organised:- Coach there and back,€25.00. Entrance €5.00,boat €10.oo.€40 .00 in all . Good value we thought .

The coach ride was brilliant with views of these Limestone White Mountains. Occasional stops for the locals.

However, after a strong coffee, the coach took us on from Omalos to the entrance to the Gorge. Please show your ticket .

So, beginning at an elevation of 1230 metres, you descend on serpentine,stony paths.

The views were awesome.

Now a National Park, there were designated Fire Muster Points, WCs and Fresh water springs. And even a horse ride back up for anyone having an accident.

Once at river level there were hazard warnings.

Eventually, the river bed was reached after about an hour’s descent.

Hard to believe that there was an actual village existing down here and it only became derelict when occupants were rehoused elsewhere as it became a National Park.

The river bed.

Some information boards.

Approaching the old village of Samaria.

You now begin to feel again the encroachment of the mountains above you.

The gorge is named after St Mary of Egypt and there are the remains of her chapel.

At this point, the last thing I felt capable of was moving quickly!

The walk became both more troublesome ,walking over and along the river bed and more dramatic.

Another faculty which did not exist 43 years ago, was the walk way, Sidero-Portes ( iron gates) – one of many wobbly pathways across the water.

It’s a doddle crossing the river Tara.

Some more views as the route nears the sea.

A few more crossings.

The walk almost ends at the abandoned village of Palea, which means “ old”,Agia Roumeli. I remember reaching here in ‘78 and there were a few grubby kids with water bottles in a bucket for sale. Now there are three bars.

Three Kms on to the newly fashioned Agia passing an abandoned field and and the remains of an ancient bridge,

So now, let’ s get a drink and head for the beach before meeting our guide to pick up the tickets for the ferry at 16.30. The boat leaves at 17.30

The beach was fine pebble and volcanic sand – great to reshrink your feet at least a size – the Libyan sea beckons.

Cretan beer makers have got into the Craft beer scene and this was my favourite, especially after a trek like this,

Boarded the ferry amongst a throng of post Gorgers and set sail for Sougia.

After an hour, approaching Sougia.

I’m writing this blog approximately 30 hours after finishing the trek. My thigh and calf muscles still reproach me in a way I cannot remember after any walk…This includes numerous Rambles and a dozen or more Caminos. Experiencing this at 32 years was obviously a very different experience even though there was precious little supportive infrastructure then. Age…. The other differences were as follows: massively more busy, literally coachloads ( hands up we were in one ). Welcome WCs Etc. I felt pressure from walkers wanting to get past.We had forgotten how difficult it is underfoot. Rocks, shingle, tree roots and boulders. Talk about rose tinted glasses. We probably walked quicker than we needed. When you are walking with Ramblers you are amongst a group of similar vintage, no apparent differences. Even on Caminos, the difference in generations is not so obvious, probably because there are fewer walkers and it is not so frenetic. Like the Camino, there walkers from all over the world,going by the different and unrecognisable accents and that was great. But watching spring- heeled 24 year olds hop and clamber was…

At times it had me feeling like a down at heel 74 year old! The aches and pains will pass I’m sure, hopefully the Ibruprofen will kick in. No regrets.

,

Having checked the Chania App. We were fairly certain Chania could be reached on foot,keeping the sea on our left. After one false trail this proved to be the case.

Came across some local fauna and flora en route.

The route was quite straightforward, passing a couple of hotel gardens and lots of unreclaimed land.

Soon Chania was in sight and these chimneys are the remains of early 20th century industry – an oil refinery.

Walking towards the Venetian harbour – this time without the need for umbrellas.

The many pedestrianised side streets are always a temptation.

Resisted buying one of these to scare off the pigeons from the patio back home.

A cool place to people watch and enjoy a coffee.

Rooms to Rent are ubiquitous.

Just hope you don’t have noisy neighbours.

So many charming corners.

Headed for the famous market and enjoyed looking round,taking note of a seafood option for lunch,later.

Enquired at a travel agency about walking the Samaria Gorge next week – good information – took a selfie whist waiting.

Always a viewpoint, a tower.

Walked alongside some of the walls which had intermittent desolation and new construction.

Eventually came to the “ Knifemakers’ street where they still make knives – for culinary purposes you understand.

Came to a smart hotel built sympathetically, according to the sign, on and in the site of an ancient monastery.

Walking on we came across a square which on first impression looked like the aftermath of a street party – desultory site we thought – I asked a couple of charming girls what is this place -apparently the site had been taken over by locals wanting to help out homeless or displaced people and so it was in effect a political squat.

Some more viewpoints of a different kind.

Not to mention the National Greek Soccer Museum.

Back to the Market for that now overdue lunch.

I was taken by an old photo on the wall of a gentleman enjoying his lunch . Not that I wanted to emulate him

Had to walk back to walk off that lunch. Could have done without the reminder about what had just been ingested,

The Aegean now on the right and the bay not too far off, after a bit of a scramble over the headland.

REM – Losing My Religion . But not my way – another great song and another great day.

A day for exploring the nearby beaches,about a seven minute walk away.

Most places are named after Saints and sitting atop an outcrop was the chapel of the Saints, in pole position. Getting up to it was through my kind of stile – a turnstile. Ramblers will know what I mean.

Fine views over both bays.

Later that same day, Hannah and I enjoyed a drink at the poolside .

For dinner we headed for the Blue Sea Restaurant and stopped for a sharpener on the way in a bar with some very natural attractions.

The scene at the restaurant was far calmer than the previous evening.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=yZ6DQdRV-8c&feature=share

The wet weather on day two of the holiday had been predicted but undaunted, the local bus was taken into Chania – an opportunist umbrella sales man just happened to have placed himself in the square where we alighted the bus and so I parted with 5 euros for something that looked as watertight as tissue paper,however, it worked.

The rain came in gusts as we walked past the Firka Fortress

Taking shelter by some coffee tables,this was the sea scene – the waiters disdained to risk a soaking by crossing the road to serve us,so after the tumult abated we walked on to the Venetian Harbour,lined with restaurants and bars,knowing we would pay the price for the view,but you only live once and it was raining.

In between gusts we took in some of the sights,places and squares of the Old Town, having already determined to return on a brighter day to explore in depth.

Snatched a picnic lunch in 1821 square.

Then the bus back to Lotus apartments. Feet up time.

In the evening a brief break in the clouds allowed for a spot of sunbathing and even a dip in the pool ( not me ). Then, taking a chance, a walk was taken around the two bays for pre dinner APERITIVOS at the Blue Sea beachside restaurant. In an instant, the rain became tropical so we scrambled inside the restaurant whilst the staff valiantly pushed large poles up against the awning to remove quickly gathering gallons,or should it be litres? No, “ litres” does not convey the weight of the water!

Walking about in the weather was not a waste of time.

Next stop ? Next day? The beach and a revisit to the Blue Sea Restaurant for dinner.

Some atmospheric Cretan music to help set the scene.

Chania was the last place we stayed in 43 years ago and it has mixed memories of illness and delight.Now in September 2021 it is the location for an extensive stay of 11 days,a walkable few kilometres from the town, in Lotus Hotel Apartments. This will be the longest time I will have spent in one place,on holiday ever – complete contrast to the many years spent camping,motorhoming and occasional city breaks – I hope I can cope !

The day began early- 02.15 alarm – taxi to Birmingham International Airport at 03.00 for a 06.20 four hour flight to Chania. The airport was relatively quiet and getting through check-in and security was painless and well organised.

Highlight during the flight was the views over the Alps in bright sunshine.

After all the kerfuffle of Covid Jab documentation and Passenger Location Form filling, again, getting through to the baggage carousel was easy – presentation of passport,stamped, then a cursory glance at the aforesaid bumf in a hallway just beyond passport control by some other bored looking staff.

With a two hour time difference I realised ,how glad I was to have pre- booked the taxi to the apartment as we met our driver in the Arrivals hall,holding my name ( correctly spelt – wonders! ). He greeted us with friendly fist bump and in no time at all we were meandering along,past Souda Bay and it’s historic WWII grave yard, the second deepest port in the Med. according to our driver – there was a huge cruise ship moored – then a long a stretch of motorway and some narrow back roads to Karo Daratso.

Although it was early, the apartment was ready and after filling in a simple form at the desk, unpacked and impressed with our surroundings- shrubs and flowers,carefully maintained,plus a couple of pools . Right outside the apartment balcony were Orange and Lemon trees.

Soon we were ready to find coffee and a light lunch at the Loca cafe bar just down the road. Spoilt for choice round here. The friendly lady behind the bar directed us to the beach areas,down a very quiet tree lined road adjacent to the cafe. There were a number of small hotels and restaurants en route and many of the names I could recall from earlier searches on Booking.Com. I was impressed by the variety of vegetation and flowers along the way.

The way to the beaches was not far and after walking through a small, pinewood which opened up on to a small inlet with a fine, sandy beach. My immediate impression was that it was understated, yes there was a section with loungers and parasols to hire, paddle boats and a couple of bars,but not too sanitised,rough around the edges you might say but extremely clean and uncrowded. Apparently there are over 500 blue flag beaches in Greece.

Paralia Agii Apostoli beach.

A spot of shopping on the way back,followed by a rest at the peaceful apartment poolside – it is only 18.00, local time – a long,but enjoyable day so far. Next up is the challenge of “ Happy Hour “and where to have dinner.

“My passion for gardening may strike some as selfish, or merely an act of resignation in the face of overwhelming problems that beset the world. It is neither. I have found that each garden is just what Voltaire proposed in Candide: a microcosm of a just and beautiful society. ”
Andrew Weil

For “ gardening “ add allotment to the quotation above. Both my allotment and our garden were and still are lifesavers in these perilous times,here on “ Plague Island”.

I want to look back on what is almost a year of transformation at the allotment during Covid. Doubtless, having it as a resource,especially during lockdown, has provided an outlet for creativity and hopefully, bountifulness.

The main catalyst for such a momentous year was the acquisition of a greenhouse. Last September, I placed an enquiry on “ Nextdoor “, a local,neighbourhood forum, asking if anyone had a greenhouse they were looking to dispose of, ideally for free! Within 24 hours a lady contacted me to say she had an 8 x 6 foot greenhouse in good condition- needing only to be dismantled and removed.

Job done with help from a friend,Bob, and my wife,Barbara. I made a donation to a charity of my benefactor as I was given not only the greenhouse, but fixtures and fittings,including a paraffin heater .

It was in October 2020 that the actual erection began. Again with help from another friend,Mick,whose architectural background included that eye for both detail and place.

Thanks to Mick I had a frame in place and what was needed was the installation of the glass panes. I lacked the confidence and know how to attempt this and so a considerable delay ensued. This hiatus led to me having my leg pulled by some of my fellow plotholders until one day,nearing the end of the year, Malcolm our plot treasurer volunteered to give me a hand.

Job done II.

He was well organised and “nifty”,to use an old fashioned phrase – thanks Malcolm. Without my three friends’ assistance I should probably have only managed the kit below.

The greenhouse was in place and even screwed down after the loan of an electric screwdriver from another good neighbour on the plot,Phil.

“Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh, how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade. ”
Rudyard Kipling

It was Spring of this year when further transformation and creativity kicked in. With help and encouragement from Phil and the loan of his drill, I started making trellises and raised beds. I made new paths and constructed a pond.

In March,I had no notion that any of these would happen – my allotment was evolving- I could never claim to have planned it. I think the quotation below is absolutely appropriate.

The recycling element of the plot’s evolution came about mainly through Phil and Malcolm’s example. Phil could not pass a local skip or building site go by without scrutiny for any object that might be reused at the allotment…It’s catching I’m afraid…and I have found all manner of useful bits and pieces. I even came across an unwanted miniature table,left on the drive of a house nearby.

The pond was another “ find”. Opposite my plot adjacent to the railway , is a small copse thick with ivy and overhung by fruit trees. I had noticed that there was a square metal tank; goodness knows what it’s long gone owner’s’ intentions for it were, but I saw a possibility. I went back to the greenhouse and sat with a coffee in hand,sizing up a place for it as a pond. I wanted it to be close at hand. Having made the decision,I dug out a metre square or so of soil to a depth of 25 cm . I then sort of rolled the tank a distance of another 40 metres and with baited breath lowered it into place.

I edged it on two sides, planted some wildflower seeds I had saved from last Autumn and placed some pots of Chinese origin that a neighbour of Phil’s was looking to dispose of. Then I added a couple plants for oxygenation purposes and a water lily cutting from my garden pond.

RECYCLING has been of various kinds. Seed saving, skip perusal, ideas from neighbours and the Web are all in their own way a form of recycling. What follows are a few examples, from an abandoned garden table to wire squash trainers.

I almost forgot the earliest form of recycling,in February ,of horse manure from a field behind William Wheat garden centre,near Aldridge. That was after an earlier,not to repeated experience when an earlier request on the Forum took me unknowingly to a semi detached house in Banners’ Gate,behind which were three Shetland ponies, in a small rear garden – imagine what the neighbours have to put up with?I loaded up the boot of the car and made a hasty retreat.

The green house inspired me to sow some flower seeds for the first time. “ When the flower blooms, the bees come uninvited. ”
Ramakrishna.

Looking back on my fifteen years apprenticeship as a plot holder, I can remember when you were thought to be eccentric if you had a shed! What would the old guard have made of the pergolas,pathways,leisure spaces and feel for design that has been particularly noticeable during Lockdown – the welcome arrival of younger people and families has brought a fresh approach to Sunnybank allotments – what would they have thought of my Potato Tower?

You still have to put a shift in now and then – the less attractive side of plot care.

I have learned a lot this year – I certainly won’t try to grow 40 tomato plants, 10 aubergines and 20 various peppers and chillies next year but then Covid may not be as restrictive in 2022. What else could I have done ? Watched Netflix? And the above are all flourishing,not to mention umpteen courgettes, pumpkins,squashes etc.

“Garden as though you will live forever. ” Thomas Moore

I have never been so aware and thankful for my green spaces in these horrendous times – I feel privileged.

The very extensive remains of a 13thC priory, founded on the site of a retired pirate’s hermitage, St Goodrich .Part of it later served as a holiday retreat for the monks of Durham Cathedral. Beautifully sited by the River Wear – a most peaceful retreat – English Heritage should install more information within the remains of the Priory as there is only a very small sketch map outside the adjacent shop.

A short riverside walk through the wood brought us to a piggery.

Attached to a flower bed was a Camino sign for the Camino Ingles,which I have walked twice,most recently with Sutton Coldfield Ramblers. If you begin the Camino at A Coruna ,it is under the 100 Km required to obtain your compostela in Santiago- the authorities allow you to make up the distance on designated routes.The priory is situated on such a route and you can obtain a stamp ( sello ), for your pilgrim passport here .

Farewell then to this holy spot and back for a final saunter around “ old Durham town”

A useful, local bus service took us in to Durham for a final visit. The intention being to enjoy the riverside once more and to seek out the quieter backstreets of the old town,principally given over to the University.

Leaving the river and ascending to the bridge, there is this inscription embedded – quite appropriate if a little melancholy…

Returning to the old streets around the Bailey.

Archways and chapels.

Final view of the Cathedral.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=K9xcCH1o7S0&feature=share

“ I’m Gonna Leave Old Durham Town” by Roger Whittaker. Takes me back to my Folk club years. A memorable break in County Durham and a sojourn further north. Hopefully even further northwards next time.