Friday, August 17th, Keswick

Greetings!

Finishing my work on the Lary side of the family for now, we drove north to our new home base (for four days) in Keswick, Lake District.  Along the way, we stopped by Penrith.  It's the last known address for my great aunt Edith Fearon Williamson, who lived at 35 Wetheriggs Rise, Penrith.

No one was home, but I took a photo of the house.

I wasn't expecting her to be there, as she'd have to be 106.  But I would like to figure out a way to locate any children.

We drove on to Keswick, and located the Lairbeck Hotel.  It's a classic old country hotel, with a Michelin Star restaurant, and the tallest redwood in the District.  This afternoon, we walked down Vicarage Hill to the town to have lunch and buy tickets to the local Theater on the Lake.   The lunch was at the Peddler Bike Store, a veggie/Vegan/organic cafe where mountain bikers stop on their way through the valley's spectacular trails.  Sunday night, we'll take in a play entitled "Roma and the Flannelettes: A Love Like Yours".

Roma is a woman with a dark past and a troubled present. The Flannelettes, led by the women’s refuge manager Brenda, are a group of enthusiastic singers formed to perform a turn at the karaoke for the Miners’ Welfare in a Yorkshire town. When events conspire to throw Roma in the way of the women’s refuge, she gets to know Brenda’s niece Delie, a lovely lass in her twenties but with a mental age of ten. When Roma learns that Delie has a secret love, everyone is reminded that violence is always around the corner… This is a tough, contemporary story told with warmth, compassion and Tamla Motown music.

Here's a review:  Roma

Now, wouldn't you come 6,000 miles to see that?

On the way back up the hill, we shopped at a local Whole Foods clone and bought some wine, cheese, and dried fruit and nuts (and chocolate) for tomorrow's ambling around the area's small towns and cemeteries.  I'm bound a determined to find some dead Fearons.

Here is a link to the very few photos taken today: Friday, August 17th, Keswick

Gregory

Thursday, August 16th, Conwy

Greetings!

The first 22 photos in today's linked Picasa album below are from a visit downtown last night, and some evening castle views.  I'd already finished the blog, and didn't download the shots from my camera until tonight.

Today's journey took us to the three main castles (Conwy, Beaumaris, and Caernarfon) in this area, part of a defensive ring built by Edward I to assure England's control over a huge forest and agricultural treasure in Northern Wales.  Kids are out of school, and it was fun to see them exploring the passageways and towers as if they were Robin Hood's archers or King Arthur's Knights.

Okay, I'll admit it.  He built some very good castles.  His Crusade days brought him into contact with some of the world's best architecture in France, Spain, Italy, and the Middle East.  He was able to incorporate much of what he saw into these castles, and the walls which surrounded the neighboring towns.  His placement of them to make best use of the rivers, rock outcroppings, and strategic locations is amazing.  He also pioneered more efficient arrow slits and murder holes, and made it possible for fewer soldiers to defend the castles.  We were really impressed with what we saw today.

The last castle, Caernarfon, was where Edward named his son, Edward II the first Prince of Wales.  In 1911 and in 1969, it served as the site of the investiture of more recent Princes of Wales.  It is presumed it will host William's ceremony if Prince Phillip becomes King.

Tomorrow, we drive a long day's drive to Keswick, in the northern Lake District, where we'll spend the next four day making day trips to find cemeteries with Fearons.

Here is a link to the photos taken today: Thursday, August 16th, Conwy.



Gregory

Wednesday, August 15th, Conwy, Wales

Greetings!

740 years later, I'm making the same trip that my 21st great grandfather (Edmund Crouchback) did to Grosmont Castle.  He and his wife, Blanche of Artois, lived there until his death in 1296.  His son (Henry) and granddaughter (Eleanor), both Plantagenets, lived there until the mid 1300's.

After arriving in the small town, the postmaster showed us the way to the Castle.  In ruins, it still is an impressive structure.  I took lots of photos, and bought a guidebook from the Postmaster.

The rest of the afternoon was consumed with the drive to Conwy, Wales.  Settling into the Winacres B & B, we walked around a marina nearby, and had dinner at a seafood restaurant in the town.

Tomorrow, we're going to try to visit the three main castles built by my great (21 times) uncle, Edward I (Conwy, Caernarfon, and Beaumaris), built between 1274 and 1297.

Here is a link to the photos taken today: Wednesday, August 15th

Gregory

Tuesday, August 14th, Warwick

Greetings!

Our visit to the town of Warwick has been very educational.  It was just a short distance north of Lower Slaughter, but Pat had gotten a good recommendation from a friend on the castle.  We checked into our B&B, and walked through the several blocks to the Castle.

These visits to important historical sites often prove extremely valuable to me when then reveal some link to my family's history.  This one was a real surprise.

I have to admit that I've become somewhat defensive about everything in English history after 1272 A.D. That's the year that Henry II died, and his oldest son, Edward_I_of_England was crowned King.  My 21st great grandfather, Edmund_Crouchback, was his brother.  I naturally think England would have been much better off if Edward had died of the assassin's dagger while the two of them were on the Ninth Crusade in Acre (1471-74).  But he made it back in time to assume the throne, and my guy went off to Grosmont_Castle to live his life out of the limelight.

But Warwick Castle played a huge part in that history, as it was the Earl of Warwick whose Kingmaking in collaboration with both the York and Lancaster families guided the country through the War of the Roses two hundred years later.  My 16th great grandfather, William Norris, fought for the red roses in all of the wars to keep our royal line of Lancasters on the throne.  Unsuccessful, the Tudors succeeded in ousting both.

And in the castle today, we listened to an actor portraying Henry VIII thrill his audience with tales of his six wives, and his efforts to secure an heir to keep the monarchy alive.  Little did I know that his description of how he accused (and had tried for treason) several of Anne Bolyn's lovers, that one of those beheaded was my 14th great grandfather, Sir Henry Norris.  He had been appointed by in 1524 as Groom of the Stool, and was among Bolyn's most ardent supporters to succeed the King.

It certainly makes traveling very real when the places and characters you have played major roles in your existence.

Here is a link to the photos taken today: Tuesday, August 14th, Warwick

Tomorrow, we're off to see where my 21st great grandfather spent his years and is buried, and then on to Wales where his brother built five castles in an attempt to take over the region.

Gregory

Monday, August 13th, Lower Slaughter

Greetings!

Still here, and loving it.  Today, we drove to self-guided walks in Stow on the River and Chipping Camden, provided by Rick Steeves guidebook.  I haven't hit any cars yet, and am getting pretty good (Pat says) at parking and backing up.  Now if I could just remember the turn signals.

Here is a link to the photos from today:  Monday, August 13th, Lower Slaughter

I'll try to write more after dinner, but may not make it in time to beat the wifi turnoff.

Gregory

Sunday, August 12th, Lower Slaughter, England

Greetings!

I added the "England" in the title because I too had never heard of "Lower Slaughter".  I didn't want you to think we'd flown somewhere else in the world.  Lower Slaughter is a small town (can anything be smaller than a town?) in the midst of many others in the Cotswold District in Western England.  It's rumored the town has restrictions on residents making their houses "too cute".  We're in a very cute hotel (Washbourne Court), nestled on the banks of the River Eye, watching the Olympics Closing Ceremonies.

After the kind of drive that Rick Steeves describes as "joyriding" from Bath to here this morning, we checked into the hotel long before our room was ready.  So we decided to head over to the Blenheim Palace, home to the last 11 Dukes of Marlborough and birthplace of Sir Winston Churchill.   A smaller version of Versailles, with as many tapestries and statues (but mainly focused on the Spencers and Churchills).  Photos were prohibited inside, so you'll just have to imagine a giant scrapbook made into a palace of rooms.  We did find interesting the filling of eight rooms with animated figures, videos, and associated sets featuring an immortal maid (Grace Ridley) describing the personalities of each Duke and Duchess.      

We're taking Steeves' suggested 100-mile "joyride" tomorrow to see the other cute towns in the Cotswold region.  The homes were built with the sheep-raising profits that this rich Cotswold soil provided, and they're now occupied by A-list celebrities like Madonna, Elizabeth Hurley, and Kate Winslet.  The walking trails are extensive, and once a year the Ramblers organize a "Mass Trespass" to walk the country's 50,000 miles of trail - thus assuring its public access, and preventing fences from being erected.

Here is a link to the few photos taken today: Sunday, August 12th, Lower Slaughter

ps.  I noticed that I hadn't checked the "all public" access box in Picasa for the photos, so you might want to go back and check out the photos for the past few days.  I'll try to not screw up again.  Now if I can just get the B&B owners to keep their wifi on after 10pm so I can get the photos up on the blog.

Saturday evening, August 11th, Bath

Greetings!

Being old gains you lots of interesting layers.  We are talking about places, aren't we?  The burial mounds near Stonehenge to the ancient hippies in Gloustonbury span almost eight thousand years.  In between, a lot of living has taken place in Southwestern England. Layers of churches, roads, farms, towns, and families are the topics of discussion everywhere.  It's not hard to get the locals to tell the stories.

Saving Stonehenge for last, we drove to Wells first this morning.  The Cathedral there has one of the most open air and light designs I've seen.  And the view of the transet appears very much like a modern art sculpture, with powerful curves and ellipses.  On one wall is an intricate figurine clock, with riders on horseback jousting on the quarter hour.

In 1086, Glastonbury Abbey was the richest monastery in the country.  As businesses go, it was the Apple of its day.  It began as probably the first Christian church in the world.  After the crucifixion of Jesus, lore has it that Joseph of Arimathea (who according to the Bible donated his own tomb for Christ's interment after the Crucifixion) came to Britain, bearing the Holy Grail - the cup used by Christ at the Last Supper and later by Joseph to catch his blood at the crucifixion. When Joseph landed on the island of Avalon (the town's name when it was an island), he set foot on Wearyall Hill - just below the Tor (large limestone hill). Exhausted, he thrust his staff into the ground, and rested. By morning, his staff had taken root - leaving a strange oriental thorn bush - the sacred Glastonbury Thorn.  For safe keeping, Joseph is said to have buried the Holy Grail just below the Tor at the entrance to the Underworld. Shortly after he had done this, a spring, now known as Chalice Well, flowed forth and the water that emerged brought eternal youth to whosoever would drink it.

The construction of a small church nearby followed, and successive structures over 400 years added by Saxons and Normans brought it to an immense size and complexity.  After his many exploits and stories concerning his Knights, the Round Table and the Holy Grail, he was wounded by Mordred at the battle of Camlan. This was around the year 542 and he was then taken across the water to the Isle of Avalon for his wounds to be healed. Glastonbury would indeed still have been an island at that time, so it was quite possible for a boat to bring him to the only place where any medical attention was available, which would have been at a monastery - Glastonbury Abbey. Arthur was mortally wounded however and it is said he was buried in the cemetery on the south side of the Lady Chapel, at Glastonbury Abbey. He was buried between two stone pyramids and at great depth.
Legend proclaims that after Arthur's death, a powerful spirit haunted the ruins of the Abbey, appearing as a black-armoured knight with red glowing eyes and a burning desire to eradicate all records of the ancient Arthurian legends, which is why, it is said, that those seeking to discover the truth, find so few facts available.

Glastonbury, in addition to many other places, like Caerleon and Tintagel, has been linked to King Arthur. This link though, at Glastonbury, is in death rather than life. The connection of the Isle of Apples or Avalloc, to Avalon was thought to have been first made in about the 12th century and then reported by William of Malmesbury the interpolator, in his De antiquitae Glatoniensis ecclesie and Geoffrey of Monmouth in his Historia regum Britanniae.

Arthur was the legendary English King - 'Arthur of the Britons', before Saxon times. He was born out of wedlock and raised by wizard Merlin. When only a boy, after many men had tried and failed, Arthur gained the throne by withdrawing the magic sword Excalibur from a stone. The nearby Cadbury Castle, at North Cadbury supposedly became his 'Camelot'.

Centuries later (in 1191) prompted by hints and rumours, the monks excavated this same spot in the cemetery and they dug down sixteen feet, to find an oaken coffin. At a depth of seven feet they found a stone beneath which was a leaden cross with an inscription His iacet inclitus Arturius in insula Avalonia - variously interpreted to read 'Here lies King Arthur buried in Avalon'! The coffin contained two bodies - a great man and a woman, whose golden hair was still intact, until touched, when it crumbled away. The bodies were said to be Arthur's and Guinevere's.

A century later in 1278 the bones were placed in caskets and transferred during a state visit by King Edward 1, to a black marble tomb before the High Altar in the great Abbey Church. There they remained until the Abbey was vandalised after the dissolution in 1539. No one has seen, or heard anything of them since.

Today a notice board marks the spot of Arthur's final resting place. Occasionally people lay flowers there to honour this mighty King whose life and death gave birth to so many myths and legends. These mystical tales that still envelope Glastonbury Abbey in a cloak of mystery add to its profoundly rich and timeless history.

After a couple of bean and tuna baked potatoes (and blueberry smoothies), we drove to Stonehenge.  There's almost no words which adequately describes this ruin, and the National Trust has done an excellent job presenting it through hand-held audio equipment and secure barriers to prevent graffiti.  We talked with some staff there about the more recent local excavations revealing earlier structures dating back to five thousand years BC.

Here are two links to the photos taken today:  Saturday morning, August 11th, Southwest England  

Saturday afternoon, August 11th, Southwestern England

Gregory