Friday feels like a long time ago now, what with the bank holiday weekend in there, and no Pop-Up Gym to go to today, but I'm secretly pleased to have had the extra days to write my blog post because I've been quite tired from all the cycling. Having said that, Friday's 56km ride from Yarrow Valley Country Park to Lancaster Castle wasn't too bad. As you can see, it has been the shortest ride of them all so far (and I think of the whole route), but I did do 40km of it at four gears of increased resistance (gear 10), and it was pretty warm outside too, so it wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination. However, I did finish it in one hour and fifty two minutes, which is pretty good going, I reckon.
I had one particularly enthusiastic supporter along the way on Friday. Jinny, gave excellent encouragement, and had she been allowed I'm sure she'd have got on the MotoMed next to mine, but she was accompanying another gym user as carer. Instead of cycling, she got on the floor beside me and did sit ups!
Very entertaining, and great support for me as I pedalled my socks off (not literally).
So back to the ride and Lancaster Castle.
What I hadn't known about Lancaster Castle when I set it as a stopping point for my ride was that it has spent a most of its existence as a prison of one sort or another, from the 12th Century...
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| (I suspect these aren't genuine Roman soldiers) |
Something I've learnt while I've been here is that the Queen is the Duke of Lancaster, which was King Henry IV's fault, because in 1399 he, for some reason, passed a Royal Charter to say that the Duchy should be a distinct entity held separate from all other Crown possessions and handed down through the Monarchy. (Lancaster Castle website). Because the Queen is the Duke of Lancaster (and yes, I mean Duke, not Duchess) then the Castle belongs to her...
I don't think the Queen has made a habit of staying there much, given it's penal history, but she has visited...
She looks quite happy that they're letting her out.
As I say, it was only after planning my cycle route to John O'Groats that I found out that Lancaster Castle had been a prison, which explains why they were fine about having a spare room to put me up in. I'd anticipated something luxurious, perhaps something like this in Buckingham Palace...
But alas, this is what I got...
It's a bit basic, and you may notice that there's no mattress on the bed, so I snuck in my four poster camp bed...
Nobody seemed to notice.
I wouldn't say that I exactly 'got settled' in my little room, given it's history as a prison cell, and it still very much had that ambience, though it helped having my own bed and bar in there. But once I got it sorted I went for a wander around to see the castle's sights...
It's not your usual tourist destination, is it? It felt rather weird to be looking around it and wondering about all the folk who've 'lived' there, and in earlier years, died there. Many believe it is haunted, particularly in the older parts, and there are folk who pay to go on 'haunted tours'. It certainly feels that if ever there was a place that could be haunted then this would be it...
They introduced themselves as the Pendle Witches, but the introduction wasn't one of 'Let's be friends,' but rather, 'We've been dead a long while and are p-ed off! We're going to blame you for it, but first we're going to let you know who we are because it sounds threatening.' It certainly does sound threatening! When someone tells you that they're one of the Pendle Witches, I can tell you that the running instinct kicks in. I bolted round the corner, only to arrive here...
...which may not look like anything, but it's known as 'Hanging Corner'. This is not where I wanted to be when I had six long-dead power-hungry witches running after me.
I kept running and came across...
...the steps to the dungeon. Should I go in or should I stay outside? Well of course I should have stayed outside and run as far away from the castle as possible, but that would have been the sensible thing to do, which of course is not what I usually end up doing. I ran up the dungeon steps and back into the castle...
... I stopped to catch my breath on this old chair...
until I read the label beside it that read 'Drop Room.' It took a moment for me to realise what that was, and when the reality hit and I heard the witches closing in on me, I girded my loins and scarpered again. I took refuge in the Shire Hall, or Civil Court Room...
I was too exhausted to run any more, and I decided that if the witches were going to do me in I'd at least like to try and get a fair hearing first, and they might just feel some sanctity to the court room. At least I could hope. They didn't. They took the opportunity to tell me how they hadn't been allowed to have any defence council, nor call any witnesses to speak up for them, so they'd offer me the same kind of trial. It turned out that they'd heard about the accidental cheese bombing at Yarrow Valley Country Park, and how the fish had suffered as a result. This was enough for them to put me on trial as a witch because it was covered by one of the clauses in King James I's Act imposing the death penalty "for making a covenant with an evil spirit, using a corpse for magic, hurting life or limb, procuring love, or injuring cattle by means of charms." I had 'hurt life or limb.' I said I was sorry. I said it was an accident. They refused to listen. They took me to Hadrian's Tower while they worked out what to do with me longer term...
Those instruments of torture on the wall did nothing to calm my nerves.
They whisked me through the halls of the old gaol - the bit they know...
...up the Witches Tower...
...and to their old cell!
One of the witches hovered at the doorway after the others had left...
I'd hoped she was going to say something reassuring, but as you can see she just looked down at me and pointed, like some kind of warning. I certainly felt intimidated. She closed the door, and all around me went black. It was scary. It was lonely. It was dark and every creak was accentuated.
I think I dozed on and off, but in that kind of black it's hard to know if you sleep or if you go into some kind of exhausted trance. I certainly heard lots of scuffling outside that I thought was most likely the witches muttering a spell or about what to do with me in the morning, so I was hugely anxious when the door opened and the morning light burst into the room. Much to my surprise it wasn't any of the Pendle Witches, it was one of the tour guides opening up the place for the day's tourists. He was not happy to see me there, and extremely sceptical when I told him the Pendle Witches had locked me in...
He indulged me in allowing me to tell the full story, and by the end of it he was as white as a sheet, his hair had turned grey with shock, and he was quite terrified...
He helped me up, and together we ran from the old part of the building. He said he'd had his suspicions that something like this would happen one day, having heard strange things in the castle himself, and only yesterday had seen the ropes on the gallows swing without there being any breeze in the air. Nice of him to tell me now.
But then I had a dilemma. My epic cycle ride plan has me staying here all weekend, but I definitely didn't want another night like the one I'd just had. It was agreed that I could camp in the grounds until I move on on Wednesday, so I set up camp outside the Castle, but within the gates...
...retrieved my bed and butler's sink from the modern part of the prison, and mingled with some of the tourists. I had an ulterior motive. I didn't want to be alone here at night, even in the grounds, so I invited a few of them to hang back at the end of the day for a bit of a get together. I was pleased with the response, and we've had a wail of a time all through the long weekend...
I like to think that we were noisy enough to keep any ghoulies, ghosties, and witches away, but not too noisy for the rest of the neighbourhood.
I had a little check around today for any damage that may have been caused, and while I found a little, something tells me it wasn't from the folk who came to my small gathering...
I have to admit that I'm quite looking forward to moving on from here. It's all been fascinating, but rather weird, so the sooner I see these gates for the last time the better...
Knowing me I'll soon enough find myself in more bizarre situations and getting up to mischief, but let's hope it's exhilarating in a fun kind of way instead of a Pendle Witch kind of way.
I'll be back after my next ride on Monday, which will take me to somewhere near Penrith. In the meantime, please remember you can still sponsor me for my ride from Land's End to John O'Groats at my Just Giving Page. It's all to raise funds for Pop-Up Gym, and every penny of your sponsorship is hugely appreciated by all who use the gym.
**All photos are from Google images except those of the MotoMed, my tent, and Jinny.
I've spent many hours in Lancashire Castle... when it was still a prison! One of the guys I knew when I volunteered they're always said it was the best address he'd ever had, but it was just a shame about the 'Her Majesty's Prison' bit!!
ReplyDeleteHaha, I'm sure! It looks fascinating, but a bit weird to have a modern prison as a tourist attraction.
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