What would England be without the rain?! Certainly not the green and
pleasant land it is, although not so much of the pleasant yesterday. We woke to
rain and it hung about for the rest of the day. At lunch, over a bowl of hot
soup, we decided to spend the rest of the day in the manner we had spent the
morning; reading and doing everything but playing the tourist. The sun did make
an appearance half way through the afternoon and Chris took the opportunity to
give the rig a good wash; it is not often the opportunity presents itself.
There were still random places to be checked out on my long list
for Tyne & Wear; we decided to have a “mop-up” day to follow.
Today did indeed promise better touring; we set off in time to arrive at
Old Hall in the town of Washington, about seven and a half miles from our
temporary residence. Washington Old Hall is considered the “Cradle of the
Washington Family”, home of George Washington’s direct ancestors between 1180
and 1613 from where the family took the surname of “Washington”. So much
emphasis is placed on this that American Presidents have visited the property
giving it an almost shrine-like existence. Well, at least Jimmy Carter swung
by; I am not sure which others have bothered.
Certainly ancestral research has proved that there is indeed a
connection, however George Washington was never here and surely had no
knowledge of the ancestral home or even the village of Washington. But no
matter how much you dismiss the “spiritual” or iconic stories that surround the
property, this National Trust manor house dating from the early 17th
century is a delightful place to visit. It is the kind of house that one could
consider moving into at a pinch, so long as there was good access to internet
and plenty of mains power outlets.
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| Washington Old Hall |
Somewhere around 1183 William of Hertburn arrived in Washington and took
the name “de Wessington”, he and his descendants remaining here for the next
two hundred years. By the 13th century a stone building was erected.
In 1399, and only daughter Eleanor inherited the property, and it was her
granddaughter Dionisia, wife of William Mallory, whose family retained the
property until the 17th century. At the end of the 19th century, the
Rural District Council purchased the property and let it to multiple tenants
through the years. By 1894 the building was in a disgraceful state of decay and
disrepair, and two years later issued with a Closure Order, which was never
enforced. Finally in 1932 the Hall and the cottages were closed as unfit to
live in, and within five years, purchased by the Preservation Committee. War
delayed restoration work, however in 1955 Washington New Hall was opened to the
public and two years later given to the National Trust.
We spent an hour here before wandering around the village, which, now
that coal is no longer the economic driver, is a peaceful charming spot.
Perhaps the residents see it differently, however we were charmed.
But the newer part of Washington is far more modern. We called into the
Galleries Shopping Centre just down the road, an open air collection of over
two hundred shops, opened in 1974, catering for the 64,000 plus folk who live
in this corner of Sunderland. Here we called into the Sainsbury Superstore and
purchased capsicums, the newspaper, un-ripped jeans for me and slices of
delicious quiche to add to our sandwiches.
From here it was a further seven miles or so, although far shorter as
the crow might fly, to the “Angel of the North”. We had seen this monstrosity
as we travelled across to Newcastle and down to Houghton le Spring almost a
week ago, and already knew about the sculpture. It is another work by Anthony
Gormley, the artist we seem to be following about all over the world, but this
so much more impressive than the other works we have encountered. I use the
word ‘impressive” in the sense of “in-your-face” rather than ”impressing in a
pleasing manner”.
The sculpture was commissioned by Gateshead Council to produce a
landmark public art work for Gateshead and the North East of England. Once the
artistic concept was agreed, years of debate and fundraising followed to make
the sculpture a reality. The technical design was developed by sculptural
engineers and work was begun in 1997 by Hartlepool Steel Fabricators in
Teesside. It took twenty people six months to complete the sculpture and was
constructed from 3,153 individual steel pieces into three sections; the body
and two wings.
To withstand the wind and the weight of the structure, holes were
drilled thirty three metres through the soil and rock enabling the coal seams
below the site to be grouted with sand and cement. Eight reinforced concrete
piles were installed with a 1.5 metre reinforced concrete slab placed on top. A
5.3 metre high plinth was constructed and placed on top of that slab. To anchor
the sculpture to the foundation, fifty two bolts were installed, 50 millimetres
in diameter and three metres in length. The three sections of the sculpture
were transported overnight to the site in February 1998 and the whole was
assembled in one day using a 500 tonne capacity crane, the wings were attached
to the body using 136 bolts, and then welded into place.
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| The Angel of the North |
It would have been negligent of us not to have found our way to
the little parkland that surrounds the sculpture and to see close up how
massive this is. Neither of us appreciated the artistic concept although one
does have to applaud the engineers who bothered to spend their time realising
the commission.
My next idea (the day was to be one of ideas and thought bubbles;
some dismissed and some followed) was to do some walking, especially since the
previous day had been spent in such a lazy manner. We spotted the little symbol
on our map for “country park” that looks like a sheaf of wheat, this one noted
“Waldridge Fell”, and headed in the general direction of the village of the
same name hoping that brown signs closer to the destination would guide us the
last part of the route. Most of these country parks are well signed; not this
one. Eventually after we had drifted around every corner of Waldridge without
finding any signage, I googled it and we followed the little bubble on the screen
map, using precious data, until we found ourselves at an entrance marked “P”
for parking.
There are several car parks catering for visitors, but little else
here apart from the tracks through the bracken and heather. It would seem that
it caters mainly for locals walking their dogs, and unlike other country parks
we have visited which have been manicured to some degree, maintenance does not
stretch too far beyond the lack of potholes in the parking areas.
The park covers an area of 115 hectares of lowland heath, wetland,
woodland and grassland, although it was only the first that we walked through
today. We followed discreet little arrows which disappeared at one point and
found ourselves back at the car within twenty minutes. Certainly there were
panoramic views across the fell and surrounding countryside as we made our way
through the bracken and heather. Young oak trees suggested that a return in one
hundred years would offer a very different perspective. There were blackberries
too, but with a warning sign of recent spraying of the bracken, I thought it
better to leave the berries alone. We passed a few other walkers all
accompanied by their dogs, some of those canine companions a little too
unfriendly for our comfort.
Back in the car, I felt short changed exercise wise, so suggested
we check out Finchale Abbey, this appearing on our map beside an English
Heritage symbol. We had passed signage to this on our return from Durham the
other wet day, and it did not seem too far away from our current destination.
However it turned out to be much further by road, because the River Wear is not
bridged as frequently as wandering tourists might wish for. However The Chauffeur
was willing to check it out, so off we went, soon duplicating routes near
Durham, then discovering a couple of little villages nestled around the very
big remand prison of Low Newton. Near here the road turned back toward the river
soon arriving at the Abbey, and at the entrance was a clear sign to advise that
parking was on Private Property and the charge was a flat £3.
This was to be one of those instances where the old nose was to be
cut off to spite the face, and there is no arguing when this happens. My
husband is a man of principal and unless this is about to cause a life
threatening situation, I have learned not to debate the issue. We turned and
left, heading this time for home.
But on our way home, along a narrow country road, we passed a line
of cars parked alongside a gateway into some woods. I insisted we check this
out, and so we turned around, not without difficulty, and joined the line of
cars. Following other folk, we made our way down through the trees of Cocken
Wood, steeply toward the river and were delighted to find ourselves directly
opposite the Abbey so recently abandoned. A pedestrian bridge took us across
the River Wear and without further ado, even without having to flash our
English Heritage membership cards, we were able to access the ruins of the
abbey. How serendipitous! |
| Finchale Priory beside the River Wear |
The remains of Finchale Priory, founded in 1196 on the site of St
Godric a retired sailor and merchant, who settled here after a life of
adventure and travel, are quite extensive.
The priory was an outpost of Durham Cathedral and functioned as a
holiday retreat for monks of Durham until its suppression in 1538.
The prior is on private property, which also sports a caravan park
and a small refreshment shop for visitors.
It is a lovely spot for a picnic and those who come via the front door,
pay their parking fee for the privilege. We were rather canny to find the back
door!
There is very little historical explanation hereabouts, so I do
wonder what role exactly English Heritage play in this, apart from the one sign
showing opening times for the public. I guess they check the land owner does
not scavenge more stonework from the remains for garden walls or the like.
After wandering about this delightful spot, we returned back up the hill opposite the
priory, through Cocken Wood, then back at the car, turned around once more and
headed home for our last evening here in Tyne & Wear.
The weather report is looking good for the coming week; I am
looking forward to exploring the North Yorkshire coast.
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