Heroes at Highclere

Heroes at Highclere

Lynnette and I have only just realized how close we are to many of the places we’ve always wanted to see. Last night, as we drove home after a day trip to Cambridgeshire, she quoted Earle Hitchner: “The difference between America and England is that Americans think 100 years is a long time, while the English think 100 miles is a long way.” We laughed as we marveled at the truth in this observation.

Only a few days ago, a British friend related a story about a visit to Williamsburg, Virginia which left him entirely unimpressed. His host was astonished, protesting that Colonial Williamsburg is one of the oldest places in America, to which our friend replied that he knew of a dozen similar villages in Norfolk, England, all of which were older by at least a hundred years. Meanwhile, some of my English colleagues were astonished that we planned to drive the fifty miles to Cambridgeshire for the day.

It turns out that Highclere Castle is such a place, at just over an hour’s drive from our home in Pinner. (Honestly, it would not have taken quite that long, but we were behind a horse and rider for half a mile or so between Newbury and the castle.)

Fans of ITV’s “Downton Abbey” will recognize Highclere as the titular setting of the show. That connection was absolutely our reason for wanting to visit, but the castle and estate have so much more to offer than simple tours of a glamourous shooting location. Highclere is a place where fiction and history intertwine, lending it a magicality that is, if not unique, at least extraordinarily rare.

For example, in “Downton Abbey,” the character of Lady Grantham turns the house into a hospital for the many wounded sent back from the First World War. Under the supervision of Lady Almina Herbert, Countess of Carnarvon, Highclere did indeed become a veterans’ hospital in 1914, forming a strong connection between the Carnarvon family and the British military.

It’s that connection which provides the foundation for the annual Heroes at Highclere event we had the good fortune to attend.

Highclere Castle during Heroes at Highclere

We arrived fairly early in the morning. The efficient parking arrangements put us in a sheep pasture next to an immaculate Bentley, and we climbed the hill to the sounds of bagpipes and drums in the distance. We spent a moment in the check-in tent to show our tickets, and the staff there seemed as happy to have us as we were to be there.

From there, it was a short walk along the road to the house itself. If you’ve seen Downton’s opening credits, you know that road. Off to the right, on the lawn in front of the house, stood a Royal Air Force Chinook helicopter open for tours, a vintage Army helicopter, and several other attractions. Ahead and to the left were a number of tents containing presentations of the charities served by the benefit event. Nearer the front of the house was a small performance area and period offerings that included a storyteller’s tent, a collection of WWI-era military equipment and weaponry, and a display honoring early twentieth-century nurses. All of these were staffed by people in immaculate, thoroughly-researched period attire and character.

Danny and Mitch being put through their paces.

We met two of them, Mitch and Danny, who were not only impeccably dressed in their infantry attire,  but their hands were made up to look as though they’d just crawled out of the trenches. They were hilariously funny and wonderfully nice to chat with, but we didn’t really appreciate the effort they’d gone to until we saw them put on an impromptu rifle drill demonstration under the command of another reenactor. These young men were very, very good!

Since Lord Carnarvon’s exquisitely-maintained 1936 Rolls Royce Phantom III was on display at the front of the house, its garage was put to good use as an ad hoc hair salon. Lynnette and our friend, Betty, enjoyed having their hair done with “Victory Rolls” by the warm and friendly ladies there.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the carousel, which was equipped with a calliope playing a rather non-traditional repertoire.

Situated around the house were a number of dining tents. Naturally, we had tea with our lunch, and I was surprised to find that it was served in china, rather than paper or plastic. “Of course,” Lynnette chuckled. “This is England.”

From time to time, aircraft from both World Wars performed aerobatics overhead, which was fitting, since there were eight crashes of British and Allied aircraft on the estate during the Second World War. Lady Carnarvon’s dedication of a memorial to the airmen who died on the estate provided a deeply spiritual context to the day on Sunday, and I found the memorial service to be profoundly moving. When you visit, please take the short walk down the hill to the memorial and spend a few moments honoring those who gave their all.

Cedar tree sculpture by Simon O’Rourke

Another of the high points on the day was the talk by Lord Julian Fellowes, writer and creator of “Downton Abbey,” who turns out to be an enormously charming man. He spoke at length about his surprise and gratitude at Downton’s success, and shared several interesting stories from behind the scenes.

Julian Fellowes and Lady Carnarvon

One of the scenes he’s proudest of, he told us, comes at the end of Season One, when Lord Grantham interrupts a garden party to announce that England is at war with Germany. When he was writing it, a second season was by no means certain, so he wanted to create a scene which would speak to the way the world was changing but also provide a launching point for a potential second season. As he struggled to achieve that, he remembered a story his father had told him of his own earliest childhood memory, of being at a garden party and the host interrupting the band to announce the declaration of hostilities. Writing, it seems, is a deeply personal thing, even on so large a scale as a television series.

The house itself is exactly as we expected it to be as fans of Downton Abbey. It feels familiar, right down to the furniture, most of which is used in the show. Many of the rooms contained photographs of scenes from the show, while others were connected with more amusing snippets of text: “The Room in Which Mr. Pamouk Died.”

I’m certain that we’ll go back. It’s such a lovely place to visit, I don’t see how we can stay away.

Correction: This post was edited to reflect that Downtown Abbey aired on ITV, not BBC as originally written. Thank you to the readers who pointed out the error.

Rare Air

A soft, grey haze hangs low over a wide, grassy field near the village of Duxford. Tiny flowers in yellow and white dot the green here and there. Not far away, perhaps a quarter mile, past a row of parked airplanes, a young man is climbing into a Spitfire fighter. A hundred and eighty miles away, 400,000 of his countrymen are trapped on the beaches of Dunkirk, and on this gentle Spring morning, he is going to help them if he can.

I don’t know when I first heard of the Duxford Air Show. It’s been on my bucket list with letters picked out in gold for as long as I have had a bucket list, simply because I love airplanes. More specifically, I love vintage warbirds, particularly the British ones, and Duxford is their home airfield.

The Imperial War Museum at Duxford doesn’t simply put airplanes on static display (though there are plenty of those here).

One of several hangars filled with historic aircraft on static display.

They put them in the air, where they belong. I mean, sure, the taxidermist did a pretty good job of making that lion seem lifelike, but wouldn’t you rather watch him playing on the savannah with the other members of his pride? The first plane I noticed in the museum hangar was a DeHavilland Tiger Moth hanging from the ceiling, but outside? Outside, there were nine of them (NINE!) flying in the air show.

A formation of Tiger Moths circles overhead.

The good people at Duxford really know how to put on a show, and they do it three times a year. The vendors’ area was uncrowded and well-staffed, and the food was well above par, even in the general admission part of the grounds. Even so, we heartily recommend the “Gold Experience,” which includes an excellent lunch served in a tent on the flight line, well-placed seating, and a bank of restroom facilities that they advertise as “luxury,” but which I would describe as “spotless and entirely without waiting lines.” That alone made it worth the £111.95 price of Gold Experience admission. IWM staff dressed in gold ties were beyond helpful, explaining the layout of the field and the high points of the show when we arrived, and making sure we knew to delay our lunch so we could take advantage of the flight line walk before it closed an hour before showtime.

The airplanes themselves harken back to when aircraft design was more art than science, and even the most lethal purpose didn’t preclude a nod to form and beauty. Lines were curved and bare metal polished. These are museum pieces, immaculately kept, each one a labor of love for dozens of people.

What’s more, they are beyond rare. The PBY and the Corsair are the only ones flying in Britain. The B-17 is the only one still flying in Europe. There are only fourteen flying-condition P-47 Thunderbolts in the world. Each one represents the pinnacle of technology for its day.

 

If they were difficult and temperamental back then, they can be downright cantankerous now. It took at least half an hour to get all four of the B-17’s engines running, her number four belching a fireball before it got going.

B-17 “Sally B” with her smoke generators on to honor all those who came home in damaged planes–and those who never made it home.

That’s where the skill of the IWM’s organizers really shines. The show is designed to allow for recalcitrant eighty-year-old machines without coming off the rails. There were plenty of modern aerobatic displays in the lineup, each with reliable engines and flown by pilots with attention-grabbing skill, and their purpose there was to keep up the momentum while the real stars got over their mechanical-diva selves.

The show opened with a solo display by “Nellie,” the only P-47 flying outside the US, her aerobatics set to Michael Kamen’s “Band of Brothers Suite Two.” It was a meaningful placement in the lineup and a moving tribute to the Americans who flew them into combat from Duxford from ’43-’45. I’m not too proud to admit that it brought tears to my eyes. This was, after all, Memorial Day weekend for us Yanks.

P-47 “Nellie” taxis out before the start of the show, just as beautiful as ugly can get.

Getting to Duxford from London is remarkably easy. The Great Northern departs for Cambridge from King’s Cross St. Pancras Station, and the Greater Anglia will get you there from London Liverpool Street. Both London stations are served by several Tube lines. We chose to take Greater Anglia and spent under £34 round trip total. On airshow days, the IWM offers a free shuttle service from Cambridge Station to the airfield, a 20-minute ride on modern double-decker buses. Alternatively, the drive up the M11 to Duxford by car will take less than 90 minutes, but be aware that parking at the airfield itself requires a pass you print yourself in advance. (It’s free, you just have to remember to do it.) Traffic wasn’t bad coming in or going out, though I suspect that the September show marking the anniversary of the Battle of Britain will be quite different. Go early; the museums and displays open at 8:30 on show days, giving you plenty of time to see them before the airshow starts at 13:00. By the way, this is family friendly entertainment. There’s a play area for the kids, a paper airplane competition, and in the Airspace Museum, at least, there are hands-on interactive exhibits geared for younger audiences.

The highlight of the day came last in the airshow lineup: A Spitfire Mk I. Aside from movies and television, I’d never seen a Spitfire fly before. This particular early-model Mk I, from the IWM’s collection there at Duxford, is one of three flyable in the world and one of only eight in existence. She was delivered to the Royal Air Force’s 19 Squadron at Duxford in April 1940 and flew against the Germans over Dunkirk, where a bullet in her radiator forced her pilot to ditch her on the beach near Calais, which is where she stayed until 1985. Her young pilot did indeed help his countrymen stranded on that beach, when he downed a Ju-87 Stuka dive bomber trying to prevent their escape.

The date was 26 May 1940. Seventy-eight years to the day before we saw her fly in the Duxford Air Festival.

They have a tradition at Duxford of letting Spitfires perform in silence. So there, from our vantage point on the grass, we watched Spitfire N3200 roar-whistle through eleven minutes of aerobatics, her turns more graceful and her passes lower by far than all the others, and for one perfect moment, it was the Spring of 1940 again.

Do machines feel joy? This one sure seemed to and it was contagious.

We’ll be back in September.