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| Should send this one to the Met Office. |
| Whitby is further away than it would first appear and it was dark by the time we arrived and started looking for the Royal Hotel. The instructions were pretty good and the pride of Shearings was quickly located atop the cliff and opposite the erected jawbones of an unfortunate whale. The trip up had remained dry in spite of a horrendous weather forecast that was also to prove false for our two-day sojourn in darkest North Yorkshire. Arranged by Keith and Elaine, things were all in hand and the walks reccied ready for the morrow. The catering, as at all Shearings hotels of our acquaintance, was slick and rapid with the eastern European staff zooming about as if on roller skates but remaining calm and friendly with a bit of humour thrown in as well. |
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| The Royal Hotel, Shearings finest. |
| Ten fifteen am, said Keith, outside the front door and ready to go, with no driving necessary for a ten-mile easy walk down south and return via the coastal path. The only one a bit late was Elaine so another start photo had to be taken for her benefit underneath the arched Whalebones (Jawbones presented by Norway in 1963) that seem to be the meeting place for everything that is going on including a Ghost Walk the night before. (8pm and £4). |
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| One more yellow line and that would be it. |
| We meandered through the quaint streets of Whitby, stopping to gawp and take pictures at frequent intervals and marvel at the sunny morning when we expected something rather worse. It was a bit windy but it must have been the beans! The harbour was incredibly crowded with all sorts of craft; pride of place going to the old wooden sailing ship with cannon sticking through the ports on both sides. Expected to remain in Whitby until March/April 2010, the Grand Turk is a replica of an 18th century Royal Navy Frigate and open to the public. |
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| They had a Blueberry muffin until Chris got it. |
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| Keith however was looking for a disused railway and successfully located it on top of a railway bridge where we squinted into the sun and headed south on the elevated track-bed to a high viaduct over the river Esk where I felt sure that I could feel it move slightly in the stiff wind. Being built of brick that should not be the case so maybe I was mistaken. The view over town and the operational railway beneath was worth the climb up. |
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| Walk this way. Sue knows how it is done. |
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| Don't Esk me Wye. |
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| One of about six churches in Whitby. |
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| The marooned carriages. |
| A bit of the railway had become marooned at the old station where two carriages were parked by the platform that was devoid of track but obviously cared for by some enthusiast. |
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| This is the final straw. |
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| Strictly Finalists |
| We made good progress and covered a fair bit of ground before halting for a brew near Stainsacre and an introduction to St. Bernard's Waltz that had me failing (Again) to impress. |
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| The path is certainly coastal. |
| The track had linked Robin Hoods Bay at some time but that would be left alone until the morrow and we dropped down the hill at the closest point to the coastal path where a Kestrel awaited us. It must have been a juvenile and couldn't quite place Keith in the grand scheme of things. It had a close look at him, did a circuit and tried again to figure out what was under that red Pinocchio hat, all the while making it possible to take close up pictures and generally admire the perfect plumage, yellow talons and strong hooked beak. The bird was a sight too! |
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| Ye olde light house. |
| Up to this point the ground had been firm and none sticky, but the Cleveland Way was anything but, a very busy section such as this soon gets looking, and feeling, a bit worn. Still Rossendale Ramblers are used to things like this but there is nothing like a good grumble when sliding in the mire. There was about three miles of it with several groups and individuals traipsing along it making the most of the super sunshine and cobweb removing properties of the wind. |
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| St Hilda's |
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| Whitby Abbey was founded in AD 675 by St Hilda but the present structure is from AD 1078 and looking a bit like it is nearly 1000 years old. St Mary's Church is also alongside. Whitby is as near Ramblers heaven as it is possible to be, with the greatest number of teashops per square mile imaginable without actually overlapping. We had tea up at the abbey YHA and then descended into town down the steep cobbled road, or steps if those took your fancy. |
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| Poor beggars are in rags. |
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| On the straight and narrow. |
| The Morris Dancers were just getting warmed up and we managed a chat with them, finding out that they were aware of the existence of the Britannia Coconutters and strove to do better. They jingled up and down, thrashed one another with sticks and generally entertained with some chat as well. |
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| Robin Hoods Bay. |
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| There was also entertainment after dinner at the hotel with Elvis cropping up again. Whitby has strong connections with Dracula, Bram Stoker taking inspiration during his stay here in 1890 although whether Elvis the twenty-third is from that line is somewhat doubtful. Some of Elaine's pictures of the event show the reincarnation to have little resemblance to a true rambler, although it was hands on to find out. |
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| Quarter to ten was the start time on the Sunday walk to allow for a 15 mile drive down the A 171 to Ravenscar where we found plentiful parking by the wide roadside overlooking our goal on the other side of Robin Hood's Bay. A start photo was taken with the sea, cliffs and sunshine as a backdrop and a bunch of nefarious ramblers to the fore, led by a chap wearing a red tea cosy on his head that looked suspiciously like Keith Pickup. |
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| Boggle Hole. |
| Once again we were on a disused railway line built when the town was called Peak and it was a link to Robin Hood's Bay that was easy going and made getting lost impossible to all but the most accomplished unfortunates. The views over the nearby coast bordered on the very pleasant and we could see other walkers muddying up our return path. Keith kept us going full chat all the way to the end of the railway before allowing a brew stop, almost four miles it was but that gave us some time in the town to see the sights which was welcome. It also gave time to have lunch in the civilised surroundings of a local café with chocolate muffins and other such delicacies. |
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| What isn't up in this enchanting village is definitely down as there is hardly any room going spare for anything else. One tearoom was suspended over the stream 30 feet below and the local population looked as fit as butchers dogs through climbing everywhere. |
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