The Caravan Pilgrim

The large caravan, pulled by two horses emerged from behind the Black Bull Inn at Ugthorpe. It was 1934 and already much of the pilgrimage had been accomplished. Peter Anson and his companion Tony Rowe began (with a much larger portiuncula) in Datchet - Thames Valley on Ash Wednesday; marked with black smudges on their foreheads and determination in their hearts. The stop-over at Ugthorpe was for 5-weeks and the villagers got to know the pilgrims well. Mum recalled the story many times and the fascination of the local community. A trade for the old caravan was made with gypsies at Guisborough and the re-fit work began. The old van would have been too heavy for the steep hills in Scotland even though Jack and Bill were good strong horses. Earlier as they approached Ugthorpe, just before Jolly Sailors bank, one of the shafts broke in two with a painfully audible sound of splitting timber. Once all was made safe, Tony left Peter to go for help; knowing folk around these parts but it was not till morning that help arrived, Peter spent a windy night on the moor top.

Peter Anson wrote and sketched about churches, Cathedrals and Abbeys up and down the country; he also travelled round Italy, France and Ireland. Peter was with the Benedictine brotherhood on Caldey Island, and one of the twenty monks who followed Abbot Aelred Carlyle over to Rome in 1913. He must have felt quite at home during his stay at Ugthorpe; the community had not changed in it's beliefs or ways of life in many years. Staying true to the faith during the persecution, hiding priests and being married by the church in secret; and later in Whitby to fulfil the law. Peter had a great interest in these times and commented as he found them on his travels.

Peters companion was a local lad, Anthony Rowe from Brotton (only a stones throw from us). Tony was a farrier and an ideal choice for his knowledge of horses and practical sense. He went on to write the first book “The Brown Caravan” followed by Peters “The caravan pilgrim " On their way back from Scotland through Bowes, Yarm, Guisborough and on to Ugthorpe, which was to be their final port, the horses sensed the home run and needed to be held back rather than urged forward. The caravan was sold, the horses too and Peter continued his wandering, writing and drawing; his stories of local folk, faith and determination.

Note to evening office: Keep telling the old stories.
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