Traveling With Lola

York, England is said to be the most haunted city in Europe. Its history dates back to Roman times, and York was a significant cultural and political hub during Medieval times. 2 ½ miles of the city’s medieval walls still surround the city center and have bore witness to numerous significant events, including battles, wars, plagues, and executions which contribute to the city’s spooky lore. The well-preserved medieval architecture, narrow streets, timber-framed buildings, winding alleyways, and hidden corners create a spooky atmosphere that adds to the city’s haunted reputation.

After hearing about the lore of this place, I requested a ghost tour for me and my mom Shannon the night we reunited in the city. We traveled to London together but split apart for several weeks so I could solo backpack, and she could hike the intense, 186-mile Pembrokeshire Coastal Trail in Wales. I was glad to see her again after my bout of solo travel (plus secretly happy to have a buddy on a scary tour).

An eccentric guide wooed us and the 20 other ghosthunters with stories from the city’s gruesome history, where the spirits of York’s history seem to hide around every corner. Some of the most haunting (sorry, pun intended!) places on the tour were sites where the ghosts of children can be heard playing outside a former boarding house, a place where a girl can be heard crying after being left to die in quarantine during the plague, and the Golden Fleece, supposedly the most haunted pub in England.

The Shambles is another well-known landmark street inside the York City walls, where butchers would slaughter their livestock. The guttered streets were designed to funnel the blood and innards, creating a literal red wave of death that flowed through the center of the city. Today, you can still see the hooks above the doorways where butchers would hang meat to drain the blood before carving. Unfortunately, this thought returned to me as I enjoyed a traditional English pasty from a shop on the Shambles the next day.

After the tour, the demons of York seemed to stick with me, creating certain inconveniences that would be a perfect prank for a tricky poltergeist looking to mess with an already spooked tourist. Throughout my few remaining days in the town, my phone would lock up with no explanation, citing too many password attempts despite me not touching it, and it was unusable until it somehow unlocked itself. A resident of the inn my mom and I were staying at asked for my help after her husband was locked in their room after she had just opened the door and walked out with no issue. The door simply wouldn’t open for him despite all of us trying. Then he was suddenly able to get out with nothing seeming to change. Maps on both mine and Shannon’s phones would refresh and misdirect us or spin around incoherently. These events may have all been circumstantial and unrelated, but I believe they were the work of the terrifying energy I discovered in a secluded room in what came to be mine and Shannon’s favorite local pub called The House of Trembling Madness.

Imagine an eclectic, three-story pub on an unsuspecting street, with a different bar on each floor, then add the craziest NSFW (not safe for work) interior design pieces. On a slightly tipsy adventure to find the bathroom in this joint (what can I say, the ciders in England were fantastic), I wandered beyond a velvet rope blocking a stairway up to a fourth level of the building. After climbing the stairs, I found a strangely quiet, intimate event room with a few tables and couches. There were windows gently lighting the room, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw several mannequins sitting on the far side of the room, seemingly looking at one another. The vibes seemed off, and the energy felt heavier up there. With my heart beating in my ears, I immediately left so as not to disturb whatever energy resided up there. I wanted to escape before my mind became its own house of trembling madness. 

The next day, I climbed into a small van for the all-day tour my mom booked for us of the Yorkshire Dales. The Dales are a beautiful and scenic area located in Northern England, known for its stunning landscapes characterized by rolling hills, valleys, limestone formations, meandering rivers, and picturesque villages. 

I didn’t know much of what this tour would entail, but I boarded happily, glad to be off my feet for an afternoon. I wasn’t anticipating that this guided van tour would be our transportation to a dreamland not bound by time or the problems of mortal beings. 

The van took us from village to village, where we were treated to the sites, sounds, and smells of village life. Our van was reduced to a pleasant crawl in one town as the Romany people guided their horse-drawn carriages through the seats for an annual horse show and sale. 

In Wensleydale, we were delighted to sample around 20 cheeses, each better than the last, from the world-renowned dairy in the city, snagging a block of delectable smoked cheddar and savory caramelized onion cheese blocks for picnics, mourning the fact we wouldn’t be able to bring any home to Arkansas.

We stretched our legs on a journey to find lunch in the town, requiring us to glide through a tall, grassy field where sheep grazed peacefully unknowingly contained within a stone fence in the neighboring pasture. 

Because life felt so delightfully slow here in the Yorkshire Dales, I couldn’t help but feel inspired by this place. As the rolling hills crept by through the windows of the Mercedes Van, I thought of ways I could slow life down through my travels to places like this. I reflected on the joy of travel, where even the mundane aspects of a new place seem incredibly exciting and fascinating.

And as a wrap to my backpacking trip through Ireland and the United Kingdom, I sat and wondered where my next adventure would take me. I wondered where I could indulge in the simplicities that make travel and exploration part of my life, a wonderful life I am grateful for having every single day.