In five hours, the same time it takes me to drive home to Atlanta, Georgia, from Florence, South Carolina, we traveled from the top of Scotland to the Yorkshire Dales in England.
They are famously bleak with endless rolling hills and valleys. It is the sort of place, as Mama Kay said, that helps you to understand the minds of the English literary giants. You cannot escape places like it unscathed; you'll always be inextricably linked to the soul of it.
In my time in the dales, a place with quite possibly more sheep than people, I was able to experience a different type of living. There was an intentional patience within every movement. It was a jarring transition from the intrinsic sense of urgency found in many Americans or people from bigger cities.
The first day we arrived at Mama Kay's beautiful home, I went out on a hike to explore. The weather, just like most of the days I'd been in the UK, was beautiful; blue skies with sparse clouds and the bright sun to ward off the wind chill.
At first, I was pretty lost. Robert gave me directions, and in true me fashion, I immediately missed the turns and walked almost all the way into town. However, I found a path to a field behind the school and made my way up the hill.
One thing about the Dales is that pretty much everything is open. Want to take a stroll through someone's field? Sure, just close the gate behind you. Unless they are actively doing work, it's usually free to the public. Feeling like I was walking through someone's large backyard was a bit jarring, but I got over it pretty quickly.
During my initial trek where I just kept walking until I found something resembling a hiking trail, I found a pretty stream that led to a waterfall. Hand to God, not one thing has felt as profound as journaling on the muddy banks of a hidden, forest stream in England.
The only source of worry came from trying to get back to Mama Kay's house when I decided, rather than doing the sensible thing and retracing my steps (the steps I took because I was already slightly lost), to keep following the trail until I found Mama Kay's house. After traversing many muddy tractor tracks, possibly getting stung by nettle, and finally swallowing my pride and opening Google Maps, I finally made it back to the house before nightfall.
The next day, we got back in the car and travelled to the Tan Hill Inn, known as the highest pub in Great Britain at 1,732 feet (or 532 meters for my European friends) above sea level.
It was built back in the 17th century in the Swale Dale area. It offers food, drinks, a warm place to sleep and a timeless sense of community.
It was like stepping back in time; funny signs with 18th century quips graced the walls and the original structure gave it an authentic feeling. We waited for about an hour for our table, but they had an outdoor seating area and many comfortable places to mingle with the crowds.
One thing I was slightly worried about when travelling to the UK was the food. I've been warned about blood pudding and beans on toast enough to assume all food here would be very… English. However, I am pleased to announce my misconception about the food was exactly that—a misconception.
I had a traditional roast meal at Tan Hill that included a meat pie, Yorkshire pudding, and roasted parsnips. While it made me want to take a four-hour nap immediately after, it was some of the best food I'd ever had.
Another cool fact about Tan Hill is that it was home to a pretty wild event in 2021 when 61 people were stranded in the building for three days due to a nasty winter storm. There were over 40 guests, a number of Tan Hill staff, and members of an Oasis tribute band that were stuck at the top of the hill by Storm Arwen. The event gained tons of publicity, and there is going to be a movie about the event released in 2024 or 2025.
While we enjoyed our meal, we actually met the manager who was working when the storm hit. She was interviewed by the countless media outlets covering the story, so she regaled us with tales from those long three days.
After the meal, Mama Kay and Robert sat down and had another drink while I hiked up one of the trails to walk of my meal.
Mostly deserted if you don't count the pheasants, it was really just me and the wind up there. There is something ineffable about the hills, especially when you're alone with them. It's like you're sharing this secret moment with God and no one else will ever know.
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Again, the Brontë's make so much sense to me now.
That night, after some further field exploration from me, we went to a local pub in Askrigg for a meal where I learned that my favorite food from the UK might just be soup. You can ask Mama Kay; I really could not get enough of the soup.
The next day, we drove to Castle Bolton, a place that served as a gilded cage for Mary, Queen of Scots. The castle was constructed in 1399 by Sir Richard le Scrope, but it was surprisingly well preserved for a 14th century building. Queen Mary was moved to Castle Bolton by Elizabeth I in the 16th century to prevent her from contacting Scotland. She was held there for about two years.
The castle had a tearoom with desserts and meat pies, so we grabbed some sustenance (important to note I had tea in a CASTLE), before I continued alone through the old halls to explore. I was able to see the area of the castle reserved for Queen Mary and her group. I was also able to climb up and down many flights of stairs to see the beautiful views across Wensleydale.
After Castle Bolton, Mama Kay and Robert dropped me off at Aysgarth Falls, a lovely hiking area with three different tiers of waterfalls connected by a flowing river. To get there, you are kind of just dropped off in the middle of a road and you choose which direction to start from. I chose the lower falls because I wanted to end at the cute gift/gelato shop.
With the weather being so nice, my stroll along the banks of the falls brought me to many families stripped down to their skivvies enjoying the water. Personally, I was in a sweater, skirt and hiking boots, so this wasn't for me, but it was fun to people watch.
The entire hike took me about two hours with many stops in between to sit on the banks and enjoy the sun. Mama Kay actually called me, worried, because I had been gone for so long without calling—oops.
At the end of the day, we enjoyed a nice, home cooked meal together to celebrate my last night. I was very sad to say goodbye, but I was also excited to get back to France.
Before travelling to the UK, I was struggling to acclimate to my new environment. I had a rough start to say the least, and I couldn't quite let go of my initial few days in Rennes. I don't know what kind of magic the Highlands or the Dales possess, but they gave me the perspective that I needed to go back to my new home with a sense of anticipation—something I assumed I'd be dreading a few days before.
Though the trip was only for a week, it was the best possible start I could've had to my European adventure. I am endlessly grateful for Mama Kay and Robert for taking me everywhere with them and showing me some of the wondrous things the UK has to offer.
Now, it is time to officially start life as an exchange student at the Rennes School of Business. Orientation starts on Wednesday—wish me luck.
Jusqu'à la prochaine fois,
Finn