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Travel Story

Shared by St. Cuthbert and Harry Potter

Durham, Northern England's centre of culture and learning, preserves the character of its Medieval past

Standing in the cavernous stone-arched interior of Durham Cathedral it's hard not to feel a sense of awe. Regardless of one’s religious convictions, or lack of them, the place evokes a feeling of mystery, a connection to the supernatural that transcends time in a seamless union of history and myth.

Ever since AD 995, when the monks of Lindisfarne chose this densely wooded spur of land as the final resting place for the remarkably durable body of St. Cuthbert, Durham has been a destination for Christian pilgrims. It still attracts thousands of visitors each year – some seeking the silent blessing of Cuthbert, "the healer," whose remains are buried behind the high alter. Others come to marvel at the architecture and recently, Harry Potter fans have come for a closer look at the enchanted halls of Hogwart's. In the film Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Durham Cathedral doubled as the classroom attended by the young wizard and his owl, Hedwig.

With our English friends, Alan and Pat, as guides we were on our way from Lindisfarne on the Northumberland Coast to the city of York when we paused for a quick look around Durham and ended up spending most of the day. Even that was far too little time. Alan parked the car near Palace Green and from Prebends Footbridge we watched rowing teams sculling their slender racing shells in practice for the mid-June regatta. The River Wear meanders through the hilly landscape and, as though commanded by some supernatural power to alter its course, it loops around the narrow rocky spur, now a World Heritage Site, where the Cathedral and Castle stand.

The city of Durham was founded by a group of monks whose monastery on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne was ransacked by Viking raiders in AD 875. In those days the northeast corner of Britain was a lawless frontier between north and south where not only Vikings, but a host of tempestuous Scots and assorted other border raiders posed a constant threat. When the beleaguered Lindisfarne Monks finally arrived at the River Wear they recognized the rocky spur, surrounded on three sides by water, as a place where they could defend themselves and the curious mementos they had salvaged from their ravaged monastery. They brought with them the Lindisfarne Gospels and the body of St. Cuthbert.

As things turned out St. Cuthbert's body proved to be of more than spiritual value. According to the monks who peeked into his coffin, Cuthbert stubbornly refused to decay. A phenomenon that attracted a constant stream of gift-bearing pilgrims whose offerings soon proved sufficient to pay for construction of a church to house the Saint's remains. That first small cathedral became the nucleus around which the great medieval city of Durham grew and prospered.

From Prebends Footbridge we followed the leafy west bank of the Wear north to the 12th century Framwellgate Bridge, re-crossed the Wear and wound our way up narrow, cobbled laneways to Palace Green and a mid-morning snack at the Almshouse Cafe. It is late May and the historic Almshouse, located in front of University College and midway between the Castle and Cathedral, is abuzz with students. There is talk of the forthcoming regatta which next month will bring 300 racing crews to compete in Britain's oldest rowing event.

The University of Durham, founded in 1832, took over part of the abandoned castle to become northern England's equivalent to Oxford and Cambridge. But despite its excellence as a modern institute of learning the campus and grounds retain much of their medieval character.

Construction of the present castle and cathedral began in 1072 under the Normans of William the Conqueror who, since their conquest in 1066, controlled all of southern England. The strategically located Durham Castle, now a University Hall, was built as a defence against marauding bands of Scots and other northern barbarians. For almost 800 years it became the stronghold of successive autocratic and powerful prince-bishops. In a stroke of political genius William the Conqueror granted virtual dictatorial power to these self-appointed demigods. They coined their own money, made their own laws and, in effect, became a convenient buffer state between the Norman south and the fractious northern Celtic tribes. The Durham prince-bishops ruled their northern frontier with ironclad efficiency, kept a semblance of social order, and it was not until 1836 that their independent rights lapsed back to the English Crown.

The Almshouse, a shelter for the poor, seemed a strange setting for the genteel English ritual of high tea and sweets, but the pause was refreshing. We finished our snack and walked across Palace Green to the north door of the Cathedral. The fierce bronze face on the sanctuary knocker was once a part of the medieval justice system. If a felon-on-the-run was able to wake the Cathedral watchman he could avoid the gallows and choose instead either exile or a fine. I expect the watchman had many sleepless nights.

The Cathedral is a masterpiece of 12th century Romanesque architecture. Its weathered brownstone exterior, a reflection of Norman solidarity and strength, seems to grow out of the rock on which it is built. It was the first European cathedral to be given a stone rather than a wooden roof. The great round arches, massive pillars, and ribs that support the heavy roof are all made of closely fitted blocks of stone. Above the vast interior Nave and Choir the intricately ribbed stone vaulting of the ceiling rises high above the stone-inlaid floor. No wonder it took more than a hundred years to build. Each of the massive, precisely carved stones was hauled up by hand, fitted to its neighbouring stone, and supported by a wooden frame that was later knocked away.

The Cathedral's splendid condition is a tribute to the engineering skill and craftsmanship of its medieval builders. For more than 800 years it has withstood the assaults of weather, war, and vandalism. In 1262 the roof was damaged by lightening. During the civil war it housed 4,000 Scottish prisoners who tore out and burned everything that would burn in an effort to stay warm, and during the reformation parts of the interior were deliberately defaced. But the damage has been faithfully repaired and the present interior is as sound and artistically elegant as the day it was finished. St. Cuthbert’s tomb, in a chapel at the east end of the cathedral, is separated from the high alter by an elaborately carved stone screen containing scores of saintly statues. And at the other end of the cavernous Nave, the remains of the Venerable Bede share the Galilee Chapel with rare 12th century paintings.

Bede, the renowned 8th century Northumbrian monk who wrote The Ecclesiastical History of the English People didn't start his after-life repose in Durham. He was originally buried near Newcastle but in 1022 an entrepreneurial monk stole his remains and hustled them off to Durham where they became a feature attraction drawing hoards of pilgrims. Between them, even in death, St Cuthbert and the Venerable Bede can be credited with much of the financial success of Durham's Cathedral.

It was near dusk when we finished our tour of the Cathedral and set out in search of a B&B. Alan chose a scenic route, following country roads through Coxdale, Crook, Collier Wood. The rolling, wooded hills east of the Pennines, once the heartland of England's coal-based economy, are dotted with small sleepy towns and occasional relics of their industrial past. For centuries the booming industries of Newcastle, Sunderland, Hartlepool, and other manufacturing centres relied on a scattering of local collieries for their energy. But 20 years ago the last of the depleted pits was closed, leaving many small communities with no economic base.

Although Durham is surrounded by collieries it remains remarkably untouched by industrialization. As neighbouring towns slipped into decline Durham, drawing on its historical legacy and intellectual resources, continues to prosper. Perhaps in part because the site chosen by the Lindisfarne monks had no room for factories the narrow spur of rock in the bend of the River Wear is still an unspoiled historical gem – a diamond in the midst of Northern England's coal fields.