Right, so we went to Fountains Abbey today. One of those places that everyone in Yorkshire tells you to visit at least once. Been before, but it’s the kind of place that changes every time—depends on the weather, depends on your mood, depends on whether your dog decides to behave (he didn’t).
Weather was classic Yorkshire grey, with that constant threat of drizzle that never quite turns into proper rain but soaks you anyway.
Did we still go? Obviously.
First Impressions (and a Bit of Thinking About the Past)
You get there, and the first thing that hits you is just how big it is. Even in ruins, it’s massive. The knave alone is enormous, with these huge, half-collapsed arches that make you wonder how the hell they built this without cranes and machinery.
Patricia and I always end up talking about the workers. The monks, yes—but also the stonemasons, the builders, the people who actually made these places stand. No computers, no calculations, just skill, sweat, and a fair bit of trial and error.
And, I mean, they did alright, didn’t they? Nearly 900 years later, and it’s still here. Meanwhile, some of the stuff they put up in the 1970s is already falling apart.
Imagining Monks While Bertie Rolls in a Puddle
We wandered through the chapter house, where the monks used to hold their daily meetings. You stand there, and you just drift a bit. Try to picture them, wrapped in heavy robes, muttering in Latin, debating abbey politics. Wondering if any of them ever just zoned out completely.
Meanwhile, Patricia was sketching, as she does. She always prefers to capture things on paper while I just let it play out in my head. Different methods, same obsession.
And Bertie? Soaked. Found a stream, rolled in it. Absolutely delighted with himself.
Which, funnily enough, got me thinking about how water shaped this whole place. Because before electricity, water was everything. It powered mills, helped them make ale (a very important part of monastic life), and basically kept the whole community running.
And now here’s Bertie, using it to wreak absolute havoc.
Studley Royal Water Garden (Or, How to Make a Landscape Look Perfectly Imperfect)
After the abbey, we wandered into Studley Royal Water Garden, which is one of those places where everything looks completely natural—but actually, none of it is.
It’s all designed that way, the perfect balance of trees, water, and architecture, like something out of an old painting. Very elegant, very serene… unless you have a soaking wet Jack Russell trying to dig up a flower bed.
We left quickly.
Final Thoughts (And Why Even Bad Weather Works Here)
Fountains Abbey isn’t flashy. It’s not Whitby Abbey—it doesn’t have the dramatic clifftop setting, it’s not tied to Dracula, it’s not trying to be anything other than what it is. And that’s what makes it great.
It’s the kind of place where you slow down without realizing it. Walk along the River Skell, listen to the water, let your mind wander. No rush, no pressure.
Even in grey drizzle, it just works.
If you’ve never been, go. And if you have a dog? Maybe keep them on a lead.
