SATURDAY, APRIL 18th

Sutton WHO? Which is how the conversation began a recent Saturday morning as Max leapt out of bed (actually, crawled out of our V-berth) and landed in the main cabin. From there we almost began an Abbott and Costello “Who’s on First” conversation.

“Let’s go to Sutton Hoo.”

“Sutton WHO?”

“Yeah, Sutton Hoo. It’s that old settlement an hour or so away by bus.”

“Now I remember, but how soon is the bus?”

With that he looked at the clock (that has been temperamental lately) that had decided to continue to tick-tock through the night correctly and said “in twenty minutes.”

So, with quick gulps of yogurt with coffee and clothes donned, off we jogged to the bus stop fifteen minutes away.

Max had first heard about this from other cruisers, notably Helen and Gus Wilson, and then recently again by Sandra and Barrie Letts. He filled me in as we trotted in the beautiful daylight through Ipswich lanes to our first destination, the bus.

In a few words Sutton Hoo, located on the Deben River just outside Woodbridge in Suffolk, is the 6th-7th-century burial ground of Anglo-Saxons. The site was discovered in 1939.

Mrs. Edith Pretty on whose estate 17 suspicious mounds were laying had invited a local archaeologist, Basil Brown of Suffolk, to excavate. Knowing war was soon to arrive on their doorstep, Brown with the help of volunteers began to dig. An archaeologist Charles Phillips of Cambridge University soon got involved, and history was made.

They discovered the richest Anglo-Saxon burial in Britain ever found, including the most silver (most of it tableware for feasting). These extraordinary treasures now reside in the British Museum.

The 500 pieces of a helmet, which has become an emblem of the site itself, has been painstakingly pieced back together… twice. As one of the Sutton Hoo guides told us, it took two times to have an accurate restoration of this helmet. In 1947 the British Museum got it wrong when they assembled the hundreds of tiny pieces because they used preconceived ideas. In 1968 it was dismantled and reconstructed based on the fragments’ evidence. Now you can see the actual helmet as well as the detailed shiny replica. Both are impressive.

Other priceless findings are a shield, belt buckle, sliver platters, jewelry, and musical instruments.

One of the artifacts is a hanging bowl, which indicates wealth because it was used as either a wine holder (my preference) or for cleaning fingers after feasting (probably the only body parts cleaned way back then).

All of these artifacts were found inside the iron rivet remains of a 90-foot long ship along with the outline of a body presumed to be Raedwald (560-620/17/25? C.E.), the ruler of the East Angles. The archaeologists were fortunate there were still items and outlines to be found. Many of the artifacts and all of the body were destroyed by rain leaching the acidic soil into the site since the early 600s. 

What’s fascinating about this king (also spelled Redwald) is his connection to the Anglo-Saxon epic poem, BEOWULF, set in southern Sweden. In that poem the grand ceremonial burial site was that of a man and a ship, the same type of boat and associated wealth found at Sutton Hoo.

Raewald also helped spread Christianity. He was baptized in Kent, most likely at Canterbury were Augustine had set up shop in the late 500s (see Blog on Canterbury October 2014 for more of that dude). Yet, this ruler may not have been convinced Christianity was the way to go. The Venerable Bede (English monk, 672-735 C.E., known as the Father of English History) recorded that Raewald could have lapsed since he had a temple with altars to both Christian and pagan gods. Smart guy.

Further digging and mapping (1965-71, 1983-92) brought new discoveries such as the graves of an Anglo-Saxon warrior with his horse and execution burials estimated to be from the 8th-11th centuries. Of the 17 mounds one had been pillaged by grave robbers but another escaped that fate because the robbers didn’t dig down far enough. Many had been plowed down over the centuries but now the site is preserved. When we asked one guide why more mounds hadn’t been excavated he told us nowadays archaeology involved high-tech equipment enabling exploring sites without disturbing them.

The site is only open on weekends, and we were among quite of few visitors checking out the exhibit rooms and grounds on this bright spring day.

After touring the informative visitor’s center we walked out to the mounds. Sheep grazed amidst the mounds

and a temporary tower stood at one end. Temporary because a permanent one would depend on tourists’ feedback over the next two weekends. We were fortunate to have timed our visit with a chance to climb for a an overview of the site. When asked on the the visitor survey if the tower added to our understanding of the site, we said not really but it did enhance our overall visit, especially the guide’s knowledge who answered our questions. 

 

We headed back to the bus stop, passing by a free-range chicken farm and onto the main street.

Max hiding some chips (our lunch) behind his back. He’s onto my snapping a pic when he’s eating, and Chris (his son) and I know how he eats his potato chips (‘crisps’ here), which means it’s worth a photo.

 

Instead of continuing back to the bus stop we decided to walk along the river to Woodbridge. We passed sailboats moored in a creek or on the mud (with much of the river draining out each tide, boats are made to rest gently on the ground),

 

other Saturday strollers usually with pups, barges/house boats advertised for sale,

and even spotted Sutton Hoo across the water.

Spring had definitely sprung, and thanks to Max we were out in it.

And, thanks to Sutton Hoo, I’ve since discovered ‘hoo’ can mean a strip of land or a spur or ridge. So much for an Abbott and Costello routine, which I use to practice with my colleague Wayne much to the rolled eyes of our fellow coworkers at the Bath Y :)

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 22nd

Almost a year to the date when we launched JUANONA it was time to see just how much gunk of sea encrustations had adhered to her bottom. Max arranged to have her hauled out during a lunch hour so the bottom could be cleaned, prop scraped, and zincs exchanged (the latter are sacrificial lambs because they corrode before other metal parts of the boat; hence, the need to keep these fresh).

With Peter’s help (always nice to have extra hands when handling lines) we took JUANONA around to the haul-out pontoon and then watched as the yard crew oh-so-carefully put slings under her hull and lifted her out and into the parking area.

And, she looked great with a pretty clean bottom, so to speak :)

So, Max and I were able to just hose her down (my hosing, Max brushing) without having to use a pressure-washer allowing us to save on the ablative paint (paint that sloughs off with growth leaving a less encrusted hull). Within one hour, she was cleaned, prop scraped, zincs replaced and ready for being swung back into the water.

One more task checked off the to-do list!

 

THURSDAY, APRIL 23rd

Where do we PUT this STUFF?! Wednesday night, thanks again to Anne and Peter, we were able to do one huge provisioning at a big supermarket a bit out of town.

First we figured out what dinners to make as staples (Gail, your Indian stew is definitely one of them) followed by the ingredients per dinner; add in all the other staples needed (tea, coffee, condiments, baking needs, dishwashing liquid, tp, sun screen, etc.); tally up quantities required for 12 weeks (knowing we’ll be using and replacing as we head up the coast/Scottish Isles); then plan to spend at least two hours going through aisles and checking off items. Hence the need for spreadsheets.

The result? A pile of dry goods and non-perishable items needing a home not just on, but in, JUANONA.

The reason for such a large stash was our plan to not buy anything in Norway other than some fresh fruits and veggies. For the past year or so we’d heard from everyone, cruisers and land travelers alike, how expensive this Scandinavian country is. So, now JUANONA was loaded to her gills with cans and packages all needing a home.

We began on Thursday morning and fine-tuned the stashing through Friday afternoon until everything was labeled, organized by shapes and usage, and placed in lockers leaving JUANONA shipshape.

Another task completed… although, remembering exactly where everything landed will take another spreadsheet…

SATURDAY, APRIL 25th

With boating season already begun (these Brits are hardy sailors) we wanted to meet more marina folk so we held another BYOBW on one of the last Saturdays we’d be in Ipswich.

Primed with Max’s now famous deviled eggs (our Orr’s Island friends will recognize these in spite of his not being able to locate his caviar sprinkles), we awaited any attendees.

Within a few minutes our friends Anne & Peter arrived, soon followed by marina folk, some we knew such as Rick & Julie (below) and some we hadn’t met yet. And, the party began.

 

Because of the short notice on posting the signs and with a lot of boats out for the weekend and cruising season, there were fewer of us than last time; however, it made it easier to speak with more folk. Once again we discovered how many great boaters there are hanging out at the marina both full- and part-time. Another reason to return next Fall.

The last gasp photo of Anne, Max, Peter, and VJ as we turn off the lights and lock the door until the BYOBW Round III.

 

SUNDAY, APRIL 26th

Max had heard from Julie and Rick about their recent visit to the Mayflower Project just down the way a piece in Harwich, the birthplace of this historic ship, on the Stour River (we’re on Orwell, NE of Stour).

Anne and Peter kindly said they’d like an outing to Harwich having never really explored this historic town. So, off we trundled, driving down to locate the building of the s/v MAYFLOWER.

Actually, it’s the third building of a MAYFLOWER, the first occurring in the early 1600’s, a replica in the 1950s as a thank-you from the Brits to the U.S. (now residing in Mystic Seaport, CT), and now this one just beginning to take shape.

We arrived in Harwich parking along the harbor and oriented ourselves via the displayed map (across the way is Felixstowe, which we last saw when entering the Orwell River to head up to Ipswich September 2014).

We found the center was open only during the week, but we headed off anyhow thinking we may be able to espy some sort of building going on.

It was easy to spot thanks to the colorful murals surrounding the center.

We peered through the locked gate,

then discovered an unlocked one around the corner where we met Roy who was manning the small visitor center.

The project is headed up by an enthusiastic and extremely likable and knowledgeable local named Sean Day. We met Sean, head of the Harwich Mayflower Trust, when Roy in the visitor’s office called him at home to say there were four people here interested in a tour. Sean immediately said he’d be there in five minutes, and so he was explaining that he had been in the midst of fixing a plumbing issue at home. Technically, no tours were available unless pre-arranged for the center really operated as a training center Monday-Friday targeting young people in the art of ship building, successfully, I might add.

Sean proceded to explain how the project began (the interest in and the success of the recent replica of HM Endeavour, James Cook’s vessel)… what their goal is (construct a full-scale, seaworthy replica while helping to rejuvenate Old Harwich via the training center and increased tourism)… the current status (keel’s being laid and frames will go in soon, as well as raising funds for a half million British pounds for bronze bolts)… and how many Mayflower descendants on both sides of the pond are now showing interest (Max is a descendent, specifically one of his ancestors fell off the ship and luckily caught a line to haul himself back in. Fortunate for me :) let alone him!).

It was difficult not getting caught up in Sean’s excitement and passion about this project. At many times it must be a thankless task, but you’d never know that being in his company. He’s managed to catch Sir Richard Branson’s interest, which raised the project’s credibility and visibility considerably.

Sean mentioned he was considering getting rose buses donated with the idea of planting one for each original crew and passenger from 1620. Deciding to be the first to do so, we offered to start and a gentleman’s agreement was made.

After the tour Sean said he’d walk us through Old Harwich where the Master (captain and part-owner) of the ship, Christopher Jones, lived.

While strolling through the lanes Sean would stop every now and then to point out some architectural interest, such as a 15th century building where graffiti from Tudor times still decorates the wall.

We reached the harbor and he pointed out Mi Amigo, one of the Pirate Radio ships. These ships served as the Davids against the Goliaths (well-established networks, such as the BBC and Radio Luxembourg). The BBC only had one program a week playing the rock and roll music that was hitting the airwaves, and Radio Luxembourg, in addition to having a weak signal, would only promote those artists with big record labels, the ones who could afford to pay a fee to the station. Consequently, many up and coming artists wouldn’t be heard. So, a way around this was to take a ship, outfit her with a studio, radio transmitters, and an antenna, plunk her three miles offshore in International waters.

Sean had more than just a connection to the history of Pirate Radio ships besides Mi Amigo being moored in Harwich. His brother Roger helped build one of the antennas as well as ferried contraband supplies to one of these ships. For an entertaining history of these ships, check out the 2009 movie “The Boat that Rocked” with Bill Nighy and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

We said good-bye to Sean, stopped in for a pub lunch, then headed to the Redoubt (‘Redoubt’ means a defensive fortification providing a 360-degree coverage). Built in 1808 this fort was one of the original 103 Martello Towers. These circular forts were constructed along the Essex and Sussex coastline as a defense from Napoleonic invasions.

Being so close to Europe and having an excellent port, Harwich had to prepare in the event of any sea invasion. Fortunately, none occurred although over 100 German U-boats surrendered there in 1918. And, in WWII an anti-aircraft gun was stationed at the fort to try to fend off the bombing raids that struck a large part of the town.

We toured the fort where Anne pretended to be a gunner,

and then pretended to be a shot gunner.

We saw where troops would sally forth to meet the enemy,

and, a Nazi missile that just missed Harwich.

Then headed home through country roads lined by blossoming rape seed. A lovely Sunday drive :)

SPRING Boardings

We can’t say good-bye to Ipswich without saying how great it was to have new-found friends aboard JUANONA. These are only two of the occasions but at least you’ll get an idea of what we mean about enjoying company with others.

Here’s one dinner with (l to r) Jo, Paul, Lily, Jayne. Jo, a young woman from Tasmania, crewed with Jayne, Lily and Paul on their boat, s/v DELPHINIUS, last summer in the Baltic then was first mate on a boat taking charters to South Georgia in the Southern Ocean. You’d never know she did this because she’s so gentle and self-effacing. We had to pull the stories out of her for she isn’t one to talk about herself. She’s now finishing up a trek along one of the historical pilgrimage walks to Santiago de Compostella, Spain. Her dream is to skipper her own boat for global exploring. We have no doubt she’ll achieve that.

 

Another small party included Sandra and Barrie from s/v PASSAT II.

 

Julie and Rick off of s/v BELIEVE are some other cruisers who wintered their boat in Ipswich while they returned home to Florida then left for Rwanda and Kenya on a medical mission. They attended the BYOBW (photo with me) mentioned above. They’ll be heading south to the coast of England and then France about the same time we’ll be going north.

VJ, who also was caught in a shot (last gasp photo) at the recent BYOBW, will be heading off to the southern coast of England. He once single-handed his 21-foot boat across the Pacific Ocean. He’s on a little bit bigger boat now and planning on heading south soon.

We’ve also met Andrew on s/v CHILD OF THE WIND who played the viola for the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and who’s deciding where to head later this spring.

Becky, a Kiwi, and Trevor, a Scot, off of s/v DIGNITY have provided great info for cruising the coast of England and Scotland. Trevor also tells a wonderful story about his mother’s parrots. Made me almost want a parrot aboard JUANONA.

And, we don’t know what we would have done without Anne and Peter off of s/v SACRE BLEU. As you can see from this blob blog and previous ones, we’ll be looking forward to seeing them as well as Becky and Trevor at the end of the summer when we hope to be back in Ipswich.

So, here’s to Ipswich and all the wonderful people we’ve met. We couldn’t have asked for a better winter home.

Barton Mills and environs Wednesday, April 8, to Friday, April 10 If anyone knows the lyrics to “Camelot”, you’ll understand why I use this excerpt to introduce our time with our friends Maya (below with fellow visitor Noodles) and Hugo (in the Spring sunshine) Morriss. On Wednesday, April 8th, we took the train to Kennett to be met by Hugo and whisked away to The Dhoon, their country home in Barton Mills. (In asking how the house name came about, they briefly mentioned that previous owner Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of penicillin, had named this Suffolk country retreat and used to come here from 1921 until his death in 1955.) Immediately we immersed ourselves into the lovely indulgence of a springtime stay with friends who welcomed us with sumptuous meals, a lovely room,

a head with a tub (!), daily tours, two adorable pups, an introduction to their good friend Wendy, some race-horse knowledge, and wonderful conversations. We couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I had first met them in northern Scotland, January 2001, at a birthday party held by Marci and Joanna, the latter a first cousin of Hugo. Later we caught up with them again in London, November 2002, at another event staged by Joanna. Besides these connections there is another link due to Maya being a fellow Mainiac whose family lived around Mount Desert for years. Yet, even if one had just met this couple, you would be embraced by their genuine hospitality. And, we were the lucky ones to find ourselves in their home.

After a delicious dinner we headed to bed only to be awoken by the lovely fragrance of sizzling bacon. Downstairs we found Hugo at a huge, old-fashioned oil stove frying up breakfast. Maya’s homemade marmalade (and Hugo’s bobbing ducky tea infuser) along with poached eggs, toast and good java ensured we wouldn’t be touring on empty stomachs. Hugo then shepherded Max and me to his car where we set off for Cambridge where we’d spend the day exploring some of this city’s historic sites. Our initial destination was the Scott Research Institute’s Polar Museum. A boating friend on our pontoon had mentioned her exploration of this gem, and it was one Hugo had visited some years ago. The three us entered this small museum only to be captivated by the large amount of information available via displays and accompanying audio guide. Both North and South Pole explorers were examined, and I won’t go into all of their exploits here. Max gravitated towards one of his inspirations, Ernest Shackleton. Here he saw the sextant and journals from the navigator of that 1915 expedition, Frank Worsley.

For those of you who haven’t had the chance to read the story of Shackleton’s ENDURANCE expedition, do so. You couldn’t make that stuff up.

We also saw artifacts from Robert Scott’s doomed TERRA NOVA expedition (1910-13), including the black flag marking the Norwegian Roald Amundsen’s December 4, 1911, arrival at the South Pole (imagine how you’d feel seeing that in the distance realizing you weren’t first in this historic race)… and, the abandoned sleeping bag of Lawence Oates, who with Scott, Henry Bowers and Edmund Wilson, died on their return from the North Pole. They were only 35 days behind Amundsen.

Not wanting to be a burden, the ailing Oates left his tent to walk into a blizzard in spite of pleas by his fellow explorers. (His sleeping bag is slit open so he could keep his frostbitten leg out of the warmth; it would hurt too much to have it thaw.) Recently discovered photographs from Scott’s expeditions were on display. Looking at the stark and magnificent beauty of this perilous continent, I could understand the magnetic pull. Yet, the sacrifices made were more haunting. Sketches of the terrain by Wilson illustrates the scientific aspect of Scott’s TERRA NOVA expedition. Here, Scott took a photo of Wilson as he took pencil to paper. On one of the audios there was a reading of Wilson’s letter to Oates mother testifying to Oates’ bravery. Also on display was the poignant farewell letter Wilson wrote to his own parents after it was clear he, too, would not survive the Polar journey.

A year earlier, Wilson had figured prominently in another mind-boggling event when he, Henry Bowers and Apsely Cherry-Garrard made a 120-mile round trip in the dead of the Antarctic winter (in complete darkness and temperatures I can’t even begin to imagine) recovering some Emperor penguin eggs. This feat is immortalized in Cherry-Gerrard’s book The Worst Journey in the World (1922). Wilson thought this flightless bird’s egg would prove the evolutionary chain between birds and man. The northern hemisphere explorations covered the many attempts to reach that Pole as well as traverse the Northwest passage, one currently becoming more and more feasible thanks to global climate change. Those from Maine who know Eagle Island may be familiar with Robert Peary’s claim  of reaching it on April 6, 1909, as well as the tragic Franklin expedition. One of the many interesting items was a rescue fox collar, and the message cylinders used by explorers to protect their information from the elements. After an hour or so looking at the display of the ‘Heroic Age’ of polar exploration, I couldn’t agree more hardily with Cherry-Gerrard’s description: “Polar Exploration is at once the cleanest and the most isolated way of having a bad time that has ever been devised.” Fortunately we weren’t on either pole, which meant we found ourselves at a wonderful restaurant Hugo had booked. Fortified by some Scottish seafood and libations we walked across the street to another Cambridge landmark, the Fitzwilliam Museum. The IV Viscount of Fitzwilliam of Merrion bequeathed his collection and library in 1816 to University of Cambridge. He thoughtfully also included funds to house them hence this museum, which opened in 1848.

In addition to artwork by El Greco and Picasso, we also saw some special exhibits. One was of the two bronzes recently attributed to Michelangelo and, the “Treasured Possessions from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment” featuring 300 items representing the purchases by European shoppers during that time, from exquisite pocket watches to  gold snuff boxes to high-heeled shoes.

We left this museum knowing it was another place we’d like to return and headed off to the King’s College campus, one of two royal and religious foundations (the other is Eton College) begun by the young King Henry VI (1421-71) in 1441. These two schools would each enroll a maximum of 70 students from poor backgrounds, with those from Eton guaranteed acceptance to King’s. Nice scholarships way back when. Once there we strolled into another Cambridge showpiece, the King’s Chapel. The chapel was begun by that same king in 1446 and later renovated by his descendants, one being Henry VII. We saw the banded iron chest from which had carried 5,000 GBP (worth roughly $4 million in today’s currency) compliments of Henry VII for completion of the chapel. It’s a stunning example of Gothic (perpendicular) architecture and features the largest fan vault in the world. Your eyes can’t help but float upwards to gaze at the soaring height banded by huge stained glass windows. This chapel’s poster explanations of ‘who was who’ and ‘what happened way back when’ cleared up some of my confusion regarding England’s medieval royal family and the Wars of the Roses 1455-85 [Red rose stood for the Lancasters, white for the Yorks, with both of these families being descendants of Edward III (1312-77)]. A diagram (god bless pictographs) showed that Henry VI descended from the Lancasters whereas Richard III was a York. FYI:  Richard III is the guy who reputedly murdered his two nephews, one who was briefly King Edward V. Richard III, also, was the king whose bones found under a car park were recently reburied in Leicester Chapel in March of this year (he died in 1485 at the Battle of Bosworth).  Henry VI was a pious king and not the best. However, it was in the Tudor’s best interests to build the VI up as a saint while maligning Richard III (politicking never changes). Some people say even Shakespeare got into slinging mud on Richard III.

This King’s Chapel at King’s College is beautiful with its light-filled, stained glass windows. Not being a huge structure, you can absorb the architecture by simply walking down the long nave, through the wooden screen donated by Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn between 1433 and 1436 to the choir stalls (we found his initials but not hers)… and into the choir area on the other side. We ducked into several small chapels along the sides with more examples of stained glass including the Tudor red rose and fleur de lis representing their French rule…

and a memorial to King’s College alumna killed in WW I, one being the poet Rupert Brooke. Exiting we walked down towards the river Cam to which King’s College and other colleges back up. We saw many punters out, both guides as well as families who were trying their hand at this ancient boating technique of poling up or down a river. Throughout Cambridge we saw evidence of a busy college community…

a pub named the same as the good friends (Colleen, Billy, Mary Lee to name a few) frequent Friday nights in Portland…

markers note famous events, and we saw two while keeping a look out for others. Yet another reminder of the historic events this city hosted.

That night Maya had invited a good friend of theirs, Wendy, who arrived with her little pup, Noodles. More fun was was in store along with another excellent dinner a la chef Maya.

The next morning greeted us with an even warmer day with Maya and Hugo’s garden smelling of fragrant spring. Do you know how wonderful it is to be amidst all this flora when one’s view has been of an industrial marina? It was heaven scent. Good bye fall :)

Hugo, Max and I set off again only this time to Ely Cathedral. Once surrounded by marshes and later drained by Charles II (1630-85) to form extremely fertile farmland, this cathedral is often called ‘Ship of the Fen’. This cathedral was sited on an ancient Christian community site founded by Queen and Saint Etheldreda in 673 C.E. After two marriages, neither of which she deigned to consummate, she retired to Isle of Ely (so called due to the water being filled with eels) and built a Christian community. St. Audrey (shortened from ‘St. Etheldreda’ because her name was a mouthful) died in 679 from a neck tumor reputedly from her vanity of wearing necklaces in her youth. The fairs held in the town sold cheap necklaces in her honor, thus, the descriptor ‘tawdry’ was coined. Not the best way to be remembered. Supposedly, when her body was brought into the church in 695 the tumor (actually from the bubonic plague) was healed and the linens clean.

Her community thrived over the next 200 years, becoming one of the richest abbeys in England until destroyed by Danes. In 970 it was resurrected as a Benedictine monastery. Then, in 1081 work began to convert the original building into a cathedral. In 1322 one of the stone towers fell, and work began in the same year to replace it, this time out of wood, resulting in the Ely Octagon completed in 1342.

Keep in mind it was a guessing game as to how the structure would stay in place. As the guide told us, this was before the time of measuring the exact forces on structures. Luckily, it worked.

When gazing at the next group of photographs just imagine looking up and seeing this painted ceiling with the light splashing through. The guide was talking while I kept snapping due to the stained glass effect. The exact dates are known of these constructions because they were carefully chronicled throughout the years; and, unusually so, the actual names of those working on the wooden tower were known in addition to the master carpenter (in today’s world he/she would be considered an engineer who concentrated on wood construction), William Hurley, provided by the then King of England, Edward III. Due to the growing popularity of the cult of Virgin Mary the Lady Chapel was erected in the same time period and completed in 1349. This side building was also considered unique due to it being separated from the main cathedral building and was exceptionally wide. Similar to how the King’s Chapel educated me on the Wars of the Roses, this cathedral gave me the clearest example of Norman vs. Gothic architecture. A later renovation added the pointed arched windows of Gothic structures to the earlier rounded windows of the Norman period (remember William the Conqueror who came over from Normandy? This is from his time.)

The main building was renovated several times, the first due to that disastrous falling of the East tower, the next during Victorian times when two volunteers painted the wooden ceilings. Upon entering I was amazed at the length of it considering its overall size; and, I discovered it’s the longest nave in Europe measuring 565 feet from the west porch exterior to the eastern buttresses’ exterior.

One guide began our tour due to the original one being delayed due to a traffic jam. Both were informative but the latter, you felt, could go on for quite awhile. Our clue was his question ‘what time did you think you’d be leaving?’  Normally this could cause some nervousness on my part along with my feet turning sideways to inch out a door, but his knowledge of and excitement only meant we truly were taken back in time.

As we walked through this beautiful cathedral we also spotted some tombs of famous bishops. Both would have been folk I would have liked to have met: St. Hugh of Lincoln (Bishop of Lincoln 1186-1200) known for his kindness, good sense of humor, and the swan who followed him about. He was also able to tame temperamental kings, such as Henry II who sent Thomas Becket to his grave for misspeaking. Another favorite was Bishop Richard Redman (Bishop of Ely 1501-06) who, when traveling, would ask to have a bell rung so he could invite the poor to join him in a meal. His was the only tomb not relocated due to renovations or damaged. One of the most splendid examples of why this is a glorious place to visit is the Lady’s Chapel mentioned earlier. Here, there was a choir practicing for a concert later that day. Our guide said this chapel was often used by visiting choirs to record due to its beautiful acoustics, including an echo. I loved hearing the singing and music rolling out of the doors as we peeked in at the rehearsal. It also was one of the brightest church buildings from that time that I’d seen. (Not that I’ve seen a ton.) Unfortunately, all but a small portion of the stained glass had been smashed by Henry VII’is thugs during the reformation. They also managed to scrape off the beautifully painted murals and smash all the tiny heads off the statues recessed along the walls. Reminded me of the intolerance and destruction by other fanatics (ISIS for one) of other historical monuments. Some things never change. Oliver Cromwell also caused suffering during England’s Civil war 1642-51; but, since he’d moved to Ely in 1636, he and his soldiers didn’t do as much destruction as they easily could have. Hugo had mentioned one of the unique aspects of Ely Cathedral is the way it is still surrounded by large open spaces, and this greeted us as we exited. Ely also boasts the largest number of medieval buildings still in use.

Another wonderful lunch reserved by Hugo meant we walked outside the cathedral, through the green, and into an old fire engine house. We once again ate a delicious meal begun by some beer and wine, then left for our last exploration of the day, a neolithic flint-mining site. Grimes Graves is one of ten flint mines in England. Over 400 pits are found in this cleared area named Grim’s Graves by the Anglo-Saons. And, to this day we could see the pock-marked landscape where miners over 5,000 years ago picked flint out of the white chalk. Their tools were antlers and animal (I hope) shoulder-blades for picks and shovels. Used for axes, a highly prized tool, this jet-black flint was a valuable commodity traded up and down the British Isles. We were able to visit one pit and descended the 30 feet with our yellow miner hats. Not one of tunnels or height, I was thankful to climb down, peek about, then quickly return to the surface. With time for a tea prior to catching the train back to Ipswich, we stopped back at The Dhoon were we found Maya comfortably resting under the furry warmth of Treasure and Barry. As we said our good-byes we realized how much we were going to miss Maya and Hugo, and, yes Treasure and Barry. They had opened their home to two cruisers from Ipswich who definitely felt this spring week end could not have been spent in a more congenial spot.