The school trip, especially if it is to another country, is one of the most memorable experiences of school days. Such a trip, to the Yorkshire Dales, with its wealth of grandeur and history, was undertaken by a group of students from Saint Mary's College, Boyle during the Easter of 1986. This is the country of Emmerdale and dreaming spires. These spires belong to some of the architectural gems of Europe. Our interpreter and guide is Mr. Tivnan whose forte this is.
Parting
The trip begins at the railway station at Boyle as parents transfer their care to the tour organisers. A parting for just a few days but a parting nonetheless. A reserved carriage, just as well. Dublin…people with serious faces step out to face the challenge of the capital. We saunter raggedly to the Bus Arus…efficiency…we are expected. We see the hand of the Boyle stationmaster, Mr. Browne, in this. A helpful C.I.E. man…bus to The North Wall (we had thought of walking!). A group travel agent meets us with final documentation at the boat gangway. We wind our way slowly on board. A quick scouting team returns to lead us to a near empty 'Observation Deck'. Seats are claimed by depositing luggage on same. Then the flurry of to and fro as exploration begins. Chips and orange are located while fourth years David Carroll and Tom Ryan explore a world of tapes and the new Walkman radio. The younger set, seek the movie hit of the moment, 'Crocodile Dundee'. John Tiernan has seen it before! Duty Free, duty done. 'To sleep perchance to dream and in that…' Mr. Flanagan succeeds with face buried in…Mr. Tivnan keeps vigil. Rules are reiterated.
Liverpool Dock
'The day dawns…' Liverpool in sight…a slow wind up the Mersey… 'Ferry across the..' We organise to disembark. Through Customs …a suspicious young Kennedy is selected for further examination. All clear. Our Coach and first encounter with our driver, John. Teething problems. All aboard. Out of Beatle Country past Manchester and across the Pennine backbone of England. Sleep. Food…a motorway Café …revival. Mr. Tivnan gets family greetings in Leeds. Finally we arrive at our destination, York. The Hostel feels we are too early. Then the first of how many cathedrals?
York Minster
Our first cathedral is the magnificent York Minster. We say suitable things. We are brought to the Crypt or is that a later cathedral? Then 'The Shambles'. Not what you might think but the narrowest of streets where the upper stories stretch out, as if to touch. We will get very familiar with this street.
Leak Soup
'The Hostel', again the national emblem of Wales as the soup. Debate as to whether the sponge and custard is more substantial than the main course. A night walk through York. Jack the Ripper. The daily hustle is replaced by peace and quietness. The daffodils, 'ten thousand saw I at a glance…". Hostel…codes decoded, phone calls home. All is well.
Fountains Abbey
The coach winds down to the valley and there stretched out lie the remains of the great Abbey set, of necessity, beside its quarry. Magnificent. One of the most impressive sights I have seen. Through the valley to the high tower, across the bridge to the awaiting coach. The sun shines. On to Rippon with its evening bugler and then back to York Transport Museum. So this is what Stephenson's Rocket looked like! From the Transport to the Military and C18 Museums, a vividly re-created Dickensian world.
Evening lunch, spam, potatoes, coleslaw. Must eat. Contact home again. T.V. Dundee reach a European Final.
Early morning. We pay our last visit to Old York to see the hand of St. Margaret Clitheroe encased. Goodbye to The Minster, the Barrs, the Walls and the daffodils.
Our next stop is Durham with its own great Cathedral and university. The rushing vanguard get a cool reception at the Cathedral door but our guide's diplomacy sorts it out. "Why couldn't you just wait?" Our second and last overnight accommodation is a sort of D.I.Y. Hostel. Dormitories allocated, beds assembled. Even our restrained exuberance creates dislocation in this Dingley Dell location. Mr. T. calls the roll while Mr. Tivnan calls 'order'.
Hadrian's Wall
Our quaint abode poses an early question. Breakfast.. 'to be or not to be..'? A Seth-like figure has gone for supplies. Waiter service means all hands to the tiller. Mr. McDonagh's camera is missing. Regretable but educational. On to the wall which the ingenious Romans had built to repel the equivalent of the Scots of those days. The R.A.F. salute us with an ear-splitting fly past. Mr. Tivnan excavates a weighty souvenir. Mr. Flanagan recovers a loss. We are Liverpool bound. The Pogues are on the air. Through the Lake country of Wordsworth. We have time to spare and so cruise slowly like an E.S.B. service vehicle returning to its depot in the early evening. Liverpool again. Circle completed. More cathedrals! The unusually shaped Catholic one referred to as Paddy's Wigwam'. Then a huge ugly mass of rock, posing as another. Enough of that.
Down to the river and the River Inn Restaurant. A decent meal as if trying to let us go with a good taste in our mouths. Tip and goodbye to our driver John who after initial issues became a companion. All aboard. A Carlow Convent group create a diversion. The film is, 'The Mission'. Mission fulfilled. Tiredness as the final legs fleet by. We are back in Boyle station with everyone. Relief, no disaster, even minor, to report. Welcomes, as the sun shines appropriately. Thanks tendered.
Mr.Tivnan salutes a query with an extravagant response
"We are back enriched"
No comments:
Post a Comment