Top Withens


Saturday January 11th, 7 AM. Through my train window, I aloofly observe the contours of the emerging day, the early morning's dark complexion. I'm on my way to Haworth, Yorkshire for the night to visit some old friends: Anne, Emily, and Charlotte Brontë. I am terribly excited, all Heathcliff-ed and Eyre-ed, Kindle loaded with the goods, heart fuelled by appetite for mystery and adventure.
I shall now resume my aloof observation as we are about to pass Doncaster.

For a short period, shorter than the blink of an eye, the complexion of the morning turned golden yellow as the winter sun shone over birch trees and haystacks. Yet now we are approaching Leeds and the clouds are gathering together in a bleak ensemble. Train guard Carrie is urging me to take ALL my belongings with me before I leave the vehicle. It's time to board another train to a place I can't pronounce.

***** 

The sun did persevere after all and blessed my arrival in Haworth ("Best day we've had in 6 weeks, lad", my host informed me). Right now, it is playing with my eyelashes, whilst the cold is burning my bare hands. I am standing still amidst the mesmerising moorlands, black scarf billowing in the wind with Romantic dedication. I am feeding on the raw beauty all around me and I'm feeling fine.




8.30 PM I am roaming the pitch-black cobbled streets in search of a sturdy meal and a pint of Bitter. What is the bewitching smell that has been following me ever since I left the cottage? Something like a perfume or a bath oil, something smokey and foresty and sweet. Inhaling it greedily over and over again, I realise what it is: it is the smell of fresh air.

*****

"In the evening I went to the churchyard. It blew bleak as winter - all round was solitary. I didn't fear that her fool of a husband would wander up the glen so late; and no one else had business to bring them there. Being alone and conscious two yards of loose earth was the sole barrier between us, I said to myself - "I'll have her in my arms again!"




*****  

When in Haworth, why not see the actual spot where Wuthering Heights was? Or Top Withens, as they call it over here. I started early in the morning powered by a full English and the warm, motherly smile of my hostess Marianne. I am now halfway through the wondrous four-mile climb and my observation is no longer aloof. I surrender to the magic of Yorkshire.


 


Stationary sheep are striking nonchalant poses on a carpet of brittle morning frost.




The reflections in the Haworth reservoir are forming hypnotic patterns and I'm feeling cosy in the soft safe niche of this hallucination.
Yesterday I was fine. Today I'm happy. Happy, despite the lack of mittens and 3G. Happy enough to raise my voice and sing a song.




The higher I climb, the more dramatic and less saturated the landscape becomes. Heavy mist descends upon the tree tops and the wind starts blowing harder. Ice and sleet and suspense are making my boots slide and slip. Another half a mile and I'll be on top of The Wuthering Heights.




*****  

"Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr Heathcliff's dwelling. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun."




*****  

Sitting in silence at the mountain top, looking at the remnants of a legend, I reflect on the past forty-eight hours. Content is creeping in, merging with the juices of exultation that had made me temporarily oblivious to the world. "Nelly, I am Heathcliff", I am about to howl. I reached one of my dream heights, a Top Within at the Top Withens. I only fell once and the tiny scratch I got healed instantaneously, like a vampire wound. I blame it on the wind, the mist, the frosted ferns and the magic touch of my old friends: The Brontës.



Comments

  1. Anonymous19 January 2014 at 04:53

    ahhhh...so beautiful! Hadn't read you for a while for a bunch of reasons, but now realized how much I've missed you. My fave entry:)

    ReplyDelete

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