York : The Half-Arsed CityYork : The Half-Arsed City
Nearby Places
Introduction
People often make the claim that York is surrounded
by many beautiful and interesting sights.
It isn't. It stands on the Vale
of York; and that is a large, flat plain largely occupied by carrot
fields. You generally have to travel a
decent distance to get to anywhere reasonable.
But once you've endured that trek, there are a lot of places worth seeing. To the north are the Moors, to the west the Pennines and Dales,
to the east the coast and to the south the god-awful sprawl which is post-industrial
Yorkshire. To save you any wasted
journeys, here's a handy list of places worth visiting and the ones to be
avoided at all costs.
The Good Ones
The town for which the word 'tawdry' might well have been invented. A stubbornly traditional northern coastal resort, first developed in the nineteenth century and not altered in spirit since. They have candy floss, they have plastic buckets and spades, they have deckchairs for hire, they have sensory-overload amusement arcades, they have salubrious and unfunny postcards, they have lunatics swimming in the freezing and polluted North Sea. Go there on a hot summer weekend when no sand can be seen between the gently burning bodies. You will be transported back to an era when all men wore hats, moustaches were long and waxed and people got excited by the sight of a banana. (Which a few still do, I suppose, though not for the right reasons.)
Half a sort of junior Scarborough; half a quaint and archaic little town dominated by winding alleyways and stubbornly ideosyncratic art shops. The latter section is overshadowed by a beautiful church and abbey on a hill, accesible by a famously punishing flight of steps. Negative points: no direct rail link from York. Positive points: a regular supply of Goths. They are the heaviest on the ground during the bi-annual weekend festivals, held in April and October. But a trip any time of the year should produce a few specimens of the Eighties Fad Which Refuses To Die.
More info: http://www.whitbyonline.co.uk/
The Maize Maze
One place that's actually close to York for once. Also one of the few attractions resting entirely on a bad pun. It really is made out of maize; they grow it every July, carve some tunnels in the crop then cut it down each September to feed to the cattle. Do not attempt directly after watching certain horror films.
More info: http://www.yorkmaze.com/pages/index.html
The Wolds
A weird little range of hills where everything is in reverse. The fields, and any other signs of civilisation, are all on the top. The valleys are narrow, labyrinthine v-shaped creatures devoid of settlements, crops, streams, pretty much everything. Except the occasional herd of bullocks which will try to trample you to death. Better than it sounds, except for the trampling.
More info: http://www.nationaltrail.co.uk/YorkshireWoldsWay/index.asp
The Abbeys
The monasteries north of York used to be key poles of the county. Not just centres of worship, they attracted settlements, industries, travellors, farms and roads. Then, unfortunatly, Henry VIII got bored of his first wife. After the Dissolution, the monasteries were half-wrecked by nearby villagers looking for handy stones. Considerately, they pulled down just enough of each abbey to make them pictaresque whilst leaving enough sights to see. Now they are evocative, jackdaw-haunted symbols of a lost era. Riveaulx, Rosedale, Bolton and Fountains Abbeys are all basically the same. Fountains Abbey near Thirsk is probably the best, however, as it still has an extensive 'water garden' (i.e. lake) nearby.
More info: http://www.fountainsabbey.org.uk
A great collection of oddly shaped boulders shooting
out of the soil in Nidderdale. Some are
surreal, some are beautiful, none look like they belong on this earth. It's Regression City, basically. Children can scramble up and down the rocks
pretending they never bothered evolving from apes. Adults can scramble on them pretending they never bothered
growing up. And everyone can laugh at
the occasional boulder which is shaped like a willy.
More info: http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main/w-vh/w-visits/w-findaplace/w-brimhamrocks.htm
Gordale Scar
A huge gash in the Yorkshire Dales close to
Malham. Scramble up it beside a gushing
waterfall and feel like a real hard-case mountaineer; with the added benefit
that the climb is, actually, a piece of piss.
This gives access to a limestone pavement, a craggy and surreal
landscape which would be more at home on the moon. So you get to pretend you're Edmund Hillary and Neil Armstrong
all in the same day, and still have time for a cream tea afterwards.
More info: http://www.malhamdale.com/
Often described as a piece of south-east England implanted in Yorkshire. Which means it is a snobby little place where the only thing to do is watch rich people waiting to die. No, I tell a lie: there's the famous Spa Centre as well. Harrogate, a town essentially developed around some public baths where the water tastes like wee-wee. I ask you.
Malton, Norton, Selby etc.
All basically market squares which have been allowed to grow too large. Townies can go here to observe the rural traditions of which we hear so much. These, you will discover, are not good. They are not good at all.
The prime examples being:
Not actually bad in itself. In fact it's rather nice, a standard North
Yorkshire tourist trap built around a large square with narrow, gift
shop-haunted streets leading off. But
it pretends to be a city. York is
barely a city, so Ripon certainly isn't.
It's a small town with a cathedral.
And when you look it isn't really a cathedral, just a slightly larger
than usual church standing on tip-toes on top of a hill. Destroy them both on general principles.
Filey
Whitby is so popular with Goths because some of Dracula was set there. So imagine the town itself being attacked by a sort of giant civic vampire. One which drains all the life, vitality, beauty, history and purpose out of it. What does the bleached corpse look like? It looks like Filey.
Bridlington
And after a few years rotting in the grave, it looks like Bridlington.
