In Ripon: Fountains Abbey

June 30, 2024

Today’s our day to visit Fountains Abbey, the ruin we couldn’t see for the trees when we biked across its grounds yesterday. To be honest, I’d never heard of Fountains Abbey before reworking our trip to come through Ripon. It’s only by chance that we biked so close to it. Plenty of others apparently have though, because Fountains Abbey and its neighboring Studley Royal Water Gardens is one of the most visited properties in the National Trust catalog. Founded in 1132, it’s Britain’s largest monastic ruin.

It must be an amazing place to see, as a few photos stolen from the web reveal:

The abbey is only about two miles from Ripon, an easy walk for those lucky folks for whom walking is still easy. That’s Rachael’s plan, but I’m stitching it into a longer bike ride that goes up to the crest of the moor above Pateley Bridge. It’s a ride I’m looking forward to for both destinations. The abbey and grounds sound great of course (although at the time I still hadn’t read up on them), but I’m really excited about heading up to the moor again, approaching it this time from the eastern side. It looks like I might be able to get up high enough to see down the other side to Gouthwaite Reservoir.

Rachael’s been gone about a half hour when I start getting ready to leave also. Let’s just say that matters don’t go well. It begins when I turn on the Garmin and see that somehow my route didn’t get loaded so I don’t know where I’m going. There’s not much to be done about that now but I decide I’ll meet up with Rachael at the abbey somewhere and maybe she’ll find a way to get it transferred from hers. Or maybe I’ll just figure it out as I go by staring at the map.

So that’s an irksome start to the outing, but it quickly gets worse when I bike into the alley behind and get about a hundred yards when the bike suddenly lurches to a stop. The strap I use to carry shirts and shoes on top of the rear rack has slipped loose and wrapped itself into the middle of the rear cluster - the same situation I found myself in on a train we were preparing to disembark from a few years back. It was really wrapped in tight then, and I had to cut the strap that time before I could unwind it. It’s just as bad or even worse this time:

It’s really jammed in this time, wrapped around and bound against itself deep inside the cogs. I cut it loose so I can unreel the loose ends but still can’t get it free. Elastic, it’s overlapped itself and locked in so tightly that pulling on it just binds it tighter. I have to probe in with a knife blade and work at it until when I’m just at the point of thinking I have to walk it to a nearby bike store it suddenly flips free (and a good thing, as Rachael points out later - it’s Sunday and the bike stores will be closed). The whole process takes close to half an hour, it feels like.

But finally I’m free. I tie the loose ends of the strap to the rack and start biking, and then look on the Garmin for Rachael’s location so I can head her way. But she’s not there, because our devices aren’t on speaking terms today for some reason. So I bike out to the grounds, give her a phone call, and soon we’re sitting together on a bench beside the Lake in the Studley Royal gardens. It really is a lovely spot - she’s already had a nice walk out and back on a trail along the River Skell that drains from the lake.

There’s nothing to be done about the missing route though other than curse ourselves again at failing to verify the load - this happens often enough that you’d think we’d have it built into our daily routine by now - so she leaves to go visit the abbey, which I plan to do also of course but first want to check out the Lake and river for birds. I’m in luck and find exactly one duck that’s different than all the mallards and coots and geese and swans out there.

#261: Tufted duck, an immature because his sides haven’t turned fully white yet. I’m not sure, but I think this is another lifer for me.

So that just about makes the day for me. Whatever else has or will go wrong, a day with a new bird in it is always a special one - especially this far into the year when I’ve already seen most of the birds that let me get a good enough look to identify them.

I continue making my way along the water and head toward the abbey, taking a few shots to go with the ones Rachael will bring back later.

The Lake, as it’s called. Pretty simple nomenclature, since it’s the only one around. The smaller ones nearby are ponds.

The Skell, rushing off toward its date with the River Ure just past Ripon.

These geese look like a mixed lot to me. The smaller ones look like cacklers. And could be - they’re seen in Britain, but not commonly.

I’m not surprised to see that there’s an admission fee when I get to the entrance to the abbey grounds. £20 sounds steep but I decide to go ahead anyway - we don’t mind making our contributions to the preservation of these places - but when I get to the ticket booth I’m told that bicycles aren’t allowed on the grounds. I didn’t think to bring a lock, so that’s out. I’ve of course seen lots of unidentified British abbeys by now of course, and not knowing yet how exceptional this one is I’m disappointed but not more than that.

By now though with all the time delays and with no map to follow I decide there’s not time to find my way up to the moor without risking committing the unpardonable sin of being late for dinner. Better to just coast back to town, find a spot to sit in the sun with a pint to drown my sorrows while I read the news that just grows more dreadful with each passing day, and wait for Rachael to return and show me her photos from the abbey.

Meadow crane’s-bill, a variety of geranium, makes a really colorful roadside bloom now.

But Rachael didn’t go into the abbey either. With plenty of other attractive choices around she decided to save the £20 and just randomly explore instead, especially since it’s very crowded today on this sunny weekend afternoon. So neither of us made it to the largest abbey ruin in Britain, which is of course why I stole some photos of it to show us all what we missed. we’ll have to come back to Ripon some year down the road and give it another try.

But she has plenty of other great shots to share with me as we enjoy our excellent appetizer plate at Valentino’s. Ripon’s quite a nice destination, we’ll decide after another day here - good size, good walks and rides to choose from, good restaurants. And it’s on a train line, which would work well for us.

An attractive estate along the way out of town.

The trees in Studley Royal Park are really spectacular.

At the Lake: some greylegs and Canadians.

The Skell, just be,ow it’s outflow from the Lake.

She wanted to make sure you saw this bridge, one of seven on this trail along the Skell. That’s where the trail gets its name, btw.

She didn’t highlight this one, figuring you’d have gotten the idea by now.

Neogothic Saint Mary’s Church, founded 1871-8.

Until it lost its appeal. Rather than brushing up against the nettles she opted for just turning back.

After she’d had her fill of the church she picked a trail at random to pack a few more miles into her day.

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