"In my daily work I was always aware of the beauty around me and had never lost the sense of wonder that had filled me when I had my first sight of the Yorkshires, but this morning the magic of the Dales was stronger than ever... I felt a surge of excitement in the solitude, a tingling sense of the nearness of all creation".
This is taken from James Herriot's Every Living Thing, written in his older days when his nights were less rambunctious but his veterinary adventures had lost none of their erraticism. Of course not everyone knows who James Herriot, or Alf Wight as he was in real life, is. No judgement. I, myself, would have no idea if it weren't for one of my father's loving yet unpredictable Christmas presents. That's how my passion for all things All Creatures Great and Small began. You see, PBN (our local broadcasting network in Maine) used to show episodes from All Creatures and my parents, when my sister and I were plotting chaos in cradles, would watch it avidly.
Eventually, PBN stopped showing it and my parents got caught up in life, dealing with two very independent and trouble-prone daughters who liked to give them panic attacks via acts like lodging rocks into nasal cavities or swallowing bottles of perfume. You can see why keeping up with the latest episode might be a challenge. However, a good deal later, when I was about 14 or so, my father got my mother the first season on DVD. We all sat down to watch the charming opening sequence in which James and Siegfried roam the Yorkshire countryside while making merry. I was hooked. It was completely removed from my instant chant, boy-crazy, too-big-for-my-adolescent-britches reality but I found myself wishing I could be apart of it. It's become a family favorite and is watched religiously as we now have the whole collection. Of course, in the Kingsland-Eddy household none of the DVD's are in the right boxes but as every episode is equally captivating, you'll settle for whichever one you find first. Since its introduction, I've watched practically every episode and, once I learned that I would actually be visiting the UK, swallowed up the books like bonbons.
The idea of visiting Herriot's hometown developed when Katie, a dear friend from Colby, and I finalized her visit to Edinburgh as she also loved the novels. Thus, we bought train tickets, paid a deposit on a bed and breakfast and readied ourselves for Thirsk, the real-life Darrowby. But of course, no daydream has ever become reality without a struggle.
Our's was a man named Richie. Now, I ask you, who takes a fine name like Richard and changes it to Richie? No offense if it's you but this man tainted the nickname for me so take it up with him. Richie works at the Haymarket Train Station and when we approached him to check in for tickets, cheeks rosy with the anticipation of adventure, we were met with a lack of empathy that even a viking couldn't muster. He was convinced that we had somehow, as stupid Americans, messed things up and, despite the presentation of our last names, travel destinations and the promise of our firstborns, would not budge until Katie, spending lord knows what on roaming fees, connected to the internet and showed him our confirmations. His defeated look would have tasted much sweeter had the clock not been lingering dangerously close to boarding time. All said and done, we made it onto the right train and actually sat first class which consisted of cushioned seats with free meals and coffee. However, don't be fooled. Trains do not function like the Hogwarts Express, although there is a trolley. They're damned hard to figure out and let's just say that we had a bit of an adventure before we were actually able to make it to Thirsk. It consisted of failing to press a button and a resulting hour and a half long diversion.
Thirsk is everything you would hope for and more. I'll let the pictures captivate you as I've already done my fair share of typing- of course they'll be paired with overly descriptive captions. Remember what I said- my silly blog, my silly rules.
A shot of the river that passes through the downtown area
The St. James Bed and Breakfast, owned by Barry who I will expand on later
The downtown during market day!
The church where James and Helen got married. It's just a stone's throw from the practice.
It was, in fact, lambing season when we visited. I swear it's the good luck from that crusader's hand.
Our first day we arrived, a little late due to our train ineptitude so we spent our evening buying a bundle of carrots, sneaking onto farms and befriending the animals on them. It was a solid use of 50 pence
A hilarious pony we met. You should have seen him run for those carrots.
During the first day we also got a wonderful view of the countryside, albeit probably illegal since we were on private property. Katie and I simply pretended that we were young veterinarians. I'm sure my poor footwear choice would have convinced them otherwise had we been caught.
This was during tea time. As pathetic as it might be, I chose outfits that resembled Helen in the TV series. The Carol Drinkwater and not Lynda Bellingham Helen, mind you. Unfortunately, I did not meet my own James Herriot there, despite being damn well ready to be whisked off my feet into a world of veterinary romance.
The James Herriot museum was fantastic. It started off with a tour of Alf Wight's home practice at Kirkgate (known as Skeldale in the books). The museum leaves the house as it must have been in the height of its usage; disheveled, homey and brimming with character. It made you feel as though at any moment Tristan might come rushing around the corner with Siegfried on his tail, barking some order or that you would find Mrs. Hall mid-creation of a Yorkshire dinner. After traveling through the house, you go into a smaller museum section about the production of the TV show.
The outside of Kirkgate
The dining room
The reading room with a statue of James
The small animal operation room
The breakfast room looking as though it was just used
The medicine cabinet, filled with jars of castor oil
An actual script from the TV series and the shows set of the breakfast/dining room- I was very proud to note the table was the wrong way
This is James, Siegfried and Tristan's favorite pub- known as Dover's Arms in the books but it was The Golden Fleece in real life. Our dinner and pints were fantastic. I had a steak and ale pie while Katie had a lamb and herb dumpling stew. The first pint: ecstatic with our meals and the comforting atmosphere. The second pint: completely euphoric about our entire existences, no doubt red-nosed from the excitement.
The welcome sign for Thirsk. At this point my stockings were completely ruined from trumping around the farms but I couldn't have been happier.
James Herriot's favorite view of the Dales, known as Sutton Bank.
The cliff in the background is where James' ashes are scattered. Our b&b keeper, Barry, told us this. He knew because he had personally found out from James' son, Jimmy.
Now, departing from All Creatures topics and delving into other stories, let me tell you about Barry. Barry is around his late 70's or early 80's and is a complete gem of a human being. He is also the proud owner of a black and white cat named Lucky, a handsome tom (but of course, no where near as dashing as Charlie). As a fellow owner of black and white cats, I knew Barry had to be a worthy fellow. He knows about everything from astronomy and space travel to the historic past of every abbey in the area and beyond.
How do I know? Because he talked to me... about all of it. I adored Barry but if leaving the house, you would have to plan an additional 15-30 minutes into your schedule to allot for time spent talking to him in the front hallway. Our favorite phrase was "Ohhhhhhhhh giiiiiiiiiirls!" because just as you thought you had tied up your conversation and could finally do something about that grumbling hunger, you would see he had followed you out the door to give you another piece of advice on Thirsk dining, even though he had already given you a list of restaurants. But, I owe Barry so much for saving my second day in Thirsk which, without him would have been a near flop.
Now, in planning our second day, Katie and I must have seen Greek gods in the mirror the night before because for some odd reason, we came to the conclusion that a twelve mile walk, starting at 1 pm was more than doable. Perhaps I thought I had packed my winged sandals but sadly, I hadn't. Before I get into our almost defeat, I begin with pictures from the petting zoo we visited which was a great success, consisting of battling off children to pet adorable animals.
They had baby everythings!
Including piglets which would let you pet them for as long as you were willing. Next pet?
This is the famed "hairy coo" or Highland cow. I was going to share some of the feed from my bag with him but when my hand drew close, a tongue that would put Jabba the Hut's to shame emerged from his lips and I decided that he looked rather full anyways.
I never get tired of ponies
And, quite inexplicably, they had wallabies!
Now, after the petting zoo, where Katie and I were literally the only group walking about without a toddler at our heels, we decided to get to the famed "White Horse". Here is where Barry comes in. We started walking in the general direction a skeptical petting zoo guide gave us and then we kept walking. After that, we walked some more. And after that? Well, we walked until all seemed hopeless as we were lost in the middle of Yorkshire farm country.
We had just settled down for a water break and a regaining of morale when a sturdy, red Subaru started flashing its headlights at us. Barry, who had known of our foolish plans and tried not to damper our spirits with his subtle warnings, was coming to save us. Katie and I sheepishly got in the car and Barry, seeing the defeat on our faces promised to make it up to us. Make it up he did, driving us around the beautiful countryside, taking us to multiple villages and abbeys and weaving all the history together in a signature Barry manner that was brimming with interest and charm. We were more than happy to listen to him go on about satellite space travel as he had rescued us from pride that would have only ended in blisters.
Us at The White Horse. Even in the car it took another ten minutes of Barry's rather zippy to get there. On foot? Let's not think about it.
An abbey Barry showed us. Now, Barry's history lessons are fascinating but quite hard to follow so forgive me for not remembering its name
This was the other abbey we went to. Likewise, I remember all about the religious battles that ended in its destruction but its name was lost somewhere in the story.
A view of the Dales from the roads we drove on. If you're going to get lost, this is the place to do it!
Ultimately, I left the Yorkshires with a yearning to return the second I stepped on the train. Something here sang to my heart, or perhaps whistled. It reminded me of home and yet excited me with its novelty. Had this been my first date with Thirsk, I would have been convinced it was my soul mate. I've only ever experienced this sort of passion about a place once before and that's in North Conway, New Hampshire. For North Conway, it makes sense because I've been visiting it with my family for years, building up warm memories in New England Spring. But with Thirsk, it was love at first sight. I now know what James Herriot was speaking about when he praised his home so fervently. I have walked in his steps and come to understand why this dot on the map meant everything to him; why he wanted to share it with the world through his novels. I have a feeling that for the Yorkshire Dales and I, this is the start of a lifelong friendship, filled with many visits and stories.
