I looked forward to getting a better photograph of the outline of the ruined abbey. On the way up we read the cemetery stones, mostly Victorian, some older.
|I love the way the horizon blends sea and sky...|
Because families were often buried all together one can read stories in the inscriptions even when only names and dates are given.
Like the woman whose husband died when he was 48, in 1857. Their daughter died the following year, aged only 17. The woman lived to 1886 and died at the age of 78: 'Her end was peace.' I found that, and others, quite evocative.
I was annoyed when I reach the gates of the abbey and saw a sign asking people not to photograph the markers. I think I understand that they are not meant to be tourist attractions, accessories to the Dracula mystique. Though it is inevitable that they will be seen in that way by some, that wasn't my intention.
And what is the point of putting the sign at the top after people have already wound their way up, snapping all the way?
|The abbey at the end of the street!|
Never mind, we enjoyed spotting the goths in their lovely outfits and I found other surprise views of the lovely abbey. It reminds me a lot of ours at Tynemouth.
After a very long walk along the beach to admire the row of colourful huts, we were glad to make our way back the the motor home.