We were heading for the Castles of the Mind weekend, so time placed a curtain wall around our freedom to meander. For once, therefore, we behaved, managing to resist all temptation to stop and visit places along the road as we made our way northwards. Our destination was Bamburgh and we had to arrive in time for tea. That we arrived early enough to book in to our accommodation and check out two churches before the meeting was our reward for not straying from the road.
The route we had taken was circuitous, avoiding the rush-hour traffic by the simple expedient of going south in order to head north on calmer routes. Thus, the symbolism of the weekend began early, because although the more direct route would undoubtedly have been quicker, we would have arrived bored by motorways and stressed by traffic, where instead we learned something about the land, found new places to explore and arrived eager to greet our friends, who had travelled from across the country and from the Czech Republic for the weekend. The straight road is not always the best from which to learn.
We would begin with a cream tea and a walk on the beach below Bamburgh’s iconic castle, where Steve would introduce us to some of the concepts he wanted to explore during the course of the weekend, using the symbolism of the castle to illustrate the workings of the ego.
No-one really knows how long there has been a fortress on the site, or whether the striking outcrop on the shore began its life as something other than a defensive bastion. What is known is that it was once a place of the Brittonic Celts, who called it Din Guarie, as early as 420AD. It has been an Anglo Saxon palace, a Norman stronghold and seat of rebellion and is now a private home partly open to the public. The castle has seen many changes over the years, but it still imposes its presence upon the landscape.
Castles are strange, contradictory things, when you think about it. They fulfil many functions, from keeping goods and people sheltered within the safety of their walls, to defending against attack, whilst being themselves both bases for armies and for ruling the surrounding land with the proverbial iron fist. They may epitomise strength, will and power, yet they are also rigid, limited and vulnerable. Under attack they may be broken, under siege they will fall to starvation, flame, or fear. The encircling wall which holds everything within it in safety is also its own boundary, through which both ingress and egress are carefully controlled. The bars of the portcullis can keep people in as well shutting them out.
We stood on the outside, looking in. The gates were closed against us and, in a perfect illustration, we were denied its sanctuary as a sudden squall battered us with wind and rain. Surrounded by the elemental forces of the water and air, it would have been easy to choose a retreat, seeking the shelter of stone walls and firesides.
But the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and, after all, only we were wet. The sand still held the warmth of the day, the air still retained a memory of summer and the sea had not quite reached its truly northern chill. Closer to the waves, the sand already held more water than the clouds and the footprints it held told their own story. I was surprised by how many were booted, feet encased in miniature ‘castles’, isolated from the earth. It is undoubtedly a hassle to remove and carry boots and socks, then have to remove the pervasive sand from between the toes, but a few had done so and the very human prints ran with those of the dogs who bounded joyfully across the beach.
Already as wet from the rain as I was likely to get, with the sand soft between my toes, I walked along the edge of the waterline. It is a strange sensation, walking thus in silence with the susurration of the sea drowning all other sound. On one side, the waves roll in, in constant, repetitive motion, yet with each wave unique in form, force and sound. On the other side, the beached water rolls out to sea, levelling the sand as it passes, erasing all trace of what has gone before. You walk the path of balance, poised between the ebb and flow, a fragile creature, able to move forward in face of the elements, isolated by their song, yet part of the dance.
The sea too has its power and its will, the strength to erode the foundations of a castle, and the freedom of fluidity. Bounded only by the shores it creates, water rises to form clouds that travel overland and beyond the ocean’s visible limits. Even so, it is vulnerable and suffers at the hand of Man. It may protect its creatures, but it is dangerous, and like the lords of the castle, must be treated with respect.
Walking the shore, with the castle behind me, I would rather be at one with the sea than the fortress, yet both are neither more, nor less, than what they are, their form and function intimately linked and both serve their purpose. The real question, perhaps, is do I want to remain within the apparent security of the walls of my own nature or take my chances with a wider landscape of adventure… Perhaps the path between is the wisest place to walk.
Fantastic photographs Sue. Love the first and the last three in particular..
LikeLike
Thanks, Di 🙂 The light was amazing 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think Steve’s thoughts on castles are very apt, Sue. I love castles too as you know.
LikeLike
I know. If you haven’t seen this area yet, put it on your list 😉
LikeLike
The magnificent window looks more like a turret than a window. This castle is beautiful. And this is just the beginning of a weekend trip?
LikeLike
Just the beginning 🙂 We had another few places to see…as you might imagine…and managed to sneak a few extras in too 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
To think that is just the beginning… mind boggling. 🙂
LikeLike
All very different places, Jennie… and a few we threw in for good measure too 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve been to Bamburgh Castle it is really nice.
LikeLike
It is an impressive site 🙂
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Stuart France.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful photos, Sue. A fine place to celebrate your special day!
LikeLike
It could hardly have been finer 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Where Genres Collide and commented:
Lovely!
LikeLike
Thanks for sharing, Traci 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome, Sue! I learn so much from your visits!
LikeLike
I’m glad, Traci…. we love sharing them 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged on Twitter, Google, and LinkedIn.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Anne.
LikeLike
I loved the thoughts that accompanied these photos. The castle was wonderful to visit, and I have thought of a few of these issues that came out of this post too. Very good to find so many things that open up our minds to many possibilities. Thank you all so much. Anne
LikeLike
There are lessons everywhere, if we are open to them.
LikeLike
So fabulous in the real sense of the word but so real too. The Castle that has stood by the sea so long. I feel that the castle has only survived by Sea’s permission. I see your journey unfolding. 💜 Fantastic photos too.
LikeLike
I think that is true, Willow… the sea is a force beyond any we can muster. x
LikeLike
Most definitely 💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
The castle is impressive, but I’m always struck by how great the beach is as well. I’m so overdue a visit! Great post, Sue
LikeLike
The beach is stupendous. I’d love to spend more time in that area too… but I always end up on Lindisfarne 🙂
LikeLike
I’ve never been but I think it’s Uhtred’s castle from The Last Kingdom I’d love to see it one day.
LikeLike
Yes, Uhtred was ealdorman of Northumbria from 1006 to 1016, while his father had held Bamburgh.
LikeLike