england

Day 27. A day in Whitby.

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What a lovely place. Nestled in the valley where the River Esk meets the sea the natural harbour has drawn fishermen, whalers and sealers and seafarers for years. But my prime reason for being here was to see what more I could find out about Captain James Cook RN.

Whitby Harbour entrance dominated by the abbey on the southern side.

I have spent 45 years travelling the worlds oceans. I have visited many of the places that Cook did from the NW passage over Canada to Antarctica, from French Polynesia down to Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand. I have found some of the passages quite tough on the cargo ships I sailed on and back in the 80s before satellite navigation is so everyday as it is now we used sextants to find our way across the globe. But nothing can compare to what Cook and his expedition teams endured. I have read all his log entries and it is fascinating stuff.

The resident seagull sat on Cooks head refused to leave for a photo. The monument has a commanding view out to sea, standing in Peoples Park on Westcliff. More info here.

What I did not know was that his ships were built in Whitby. I had no idea of the scale of shipbuilding in this port. More here. One of the plaques at the foot of the monument says this:

I also did not know until today how much sea time Cook accrued as an apprentice sailing on colliers out of here to Newcastle and afield. It was at this time he became familiar with the different ships being built in Whitby.

How to absorb all this knowledge? Why ponder it whilst having a Fish and Chip with Prosecco afternoon tea at Hetty And Betties Ballroom. A delightful place. Who knew such an afternoon tea even existed, complete with mushy peas! Not sure if you put them in the scone or with the fish 😁.

Eeeee! It were grand!

The town clearly was one of wealth. Large Georgian town houses line the roads running down into the town. Now mainly guest houses, in their heyday they were magnificent. Bagdale Hall, a Tudor building dating back to 1516 stands proudly at the bottom of Bagdale just as you enter the town. Now a hotel and restaurant it is assured of a future.

The Old Smuggler Pub. Said to be the oldest building in Whitby dating back to 1401.

The afternoon drizzle descended so we returned to the motorhome. What a wonderful day. I loved Whitby. I love any harbour with a story to tell. Whitby has many still to be uncovered. This is a place worth visiting. Yes there is some tat on the north side. Amusement arcades that are the scourge of many and English seaside town are to be found here too. But keep away from those and the town has plenty to offer.

Tomorrow we drive home and my last entry for this road trip will be a summary of life in a motorhome with my wife and our dog travelling through Ireland, Scotland and England. What we liked. What we did not like and what we would do different if we ever did this again.

Todays distance: nothing by van but around 5 miles on foot.

Day 26, Lindisfarne to Whitby.

Woodend WandererLeave a comment

Why Whitby? Well one of my personal heroes has connections here. James Cook moved to Whitby and became an apprentice in a Quaker-owned shipping company. He trained and took coal between Newcastle and London. I intend finding out a bit more about him. An added bonus is that there is a Dracula connection and the town itself is meant to be very pretty.

Our journey today took us down the North East coast of England. It is a beautiful part of the country. White and golden sand beaches like Budle Bay dot the coast. Quaint seaside towns like Alnmouth sit quiet now. Located at the mouth of the River Aln, the village had a port supporting a small fishing industry and engaging in national and international trade. It was for a time a leading north-east centre for the export of grain and other foodstuffs, especially to London, and specialised in the import of timber and slate. These activities to some extent shaped the village, as granaries were constructed to store grain, and sawmills and a boatyard established to process wood and build ships. Most is long gone now.

We visited Warkworth. What a stunning place. Surrounded on three sides by the River Coquet, it is dominated by its magnificent castle. The old bridge that crossed the river still stands as does the gate house.

The main street is Castle street and it is lined by shops constructed in the same honey coloured stone. It is a stunning place. Nowhere can you go without seeing the castle perched on the high ground above the town.

We headed south to a part of the world where I spent some years of my life in Seaton Delaval. I went to see the schools that I attended from the ages of 4 to 15 and the houses my family lived in. Memories came flooding back. The bus stop where my mum would put me on the number 358 bus to Newcastle to be met at the other end by a family friend who would take me to see Newcastle United is still in the same position. As a 7 year old complete with my black and white hat and scarf I would stand at that very spot waiting for the bus with mum and there she would wait for me when I came back from the game as well.

We moved on to Whitley Bay and had a coffee at the Spanish City.

This Historic England photo is the best one I can find that shows the Spanish City in its heyday when I would visit it as a child. The fairground has all gone now. It has been covered over with car parks and a hotel. Such a shame. It was a real treat to go. There is not a child in that part of the country that had not been or wanted to go to the Spanish City. At least the dome and main facade have been renovated and saved. Time to move on.

We continued south, through the Tyne Tunnel to Durham where our eldest son went to university. I had hoped to stop and take a few photos for old time sake but alas that was not to be. The traffic was dreadful and there is a dearth of parking spots for 3 metre high camper vans. No problem for a car. After running through the city in vain we beat the retreat to our stop for the next two nights a mile to the west of Whitby town centre.

Durham Cathedral

Durham Cathedral will be forever special as our son gained his Masters and was given it in this cathedral. It is closely connected with Lindisfarne from whence we have come. It contains the shrines of Saints Cuthbert and Bede. The See of Durham takes its origins from the Diocese of Lindisfarne, founded by Saint Aidan at the behest of Oswald of Northumbria in about 635, which was translated to York in 664. The see was reinstated at Lindisfarne in 678 by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Among the many saints who originated at Lindisfarne Priory, the greatest was Saint Cuthbert, Bishop of Lindisfarne from 685 until his death in 687, who is central to the development of Durham Cathedral.

It has been an emotional day. Reliving my past and revisiting old homes and schools certainly gives you goosebumps. My junior school has been demolished and a new one lies just up the road from it on what was the old schools playing fields. The ground of the old school is now a housing development. No more playing fields for the new one. A sign of the times.

Much to ponder on as I write.

Todays distance: 145 miles

Total Distance: 2560 miles.

Day 25, Lindisfarne. The Holy Island.

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I had read about this place. I had heard it described as magical. I had visited as a child back in the 60s but only remember the causeway. It was 5 miles from our campsite to the island and we simply had to go. Debbie had it listed as a must see for her.

It was a cold and grey morning as we drove over the causeway following the published safe crossing times of 02:55 until 11:20. We would need to remain on the island at least until 15:20.

Those that ignored the timings in the past have paid the price of flooded cars and wet feet. Posts mark the causeway when its underwater and a refuge is provided for walkers crossing on foot should the tide flood faster than they are.

A film crew was already on site and had been for a number of days. An entire field had been given to them to park all the gubbins required to make a major movie on location. They were filming in one of the old houses in the village centre. The star is Cillian Murphy. A movie called 25 years later and due out next year.

We took the dog for a walk around the island to get the layout in our head. After around an hour and a half we took her back to the motorhome and returned ourselves to visit the castle and priory.

Sitting atop a rocky outcrop, Lindisfarne Castle started life as a Tudor fort built to guard the entrance to Lindisfarne Bay. from the Scots. It fell into disrepair and was rescued and restored as a home by a magazine owner and is now in the hands of the National Trust.

I found it to be a strange place. Neither old fort nor comfy home. Rather a bit of each which it is I suppose. It is windswept and surrounded my flat fields and the North Sea. In winter it is battered by storms. In summer is it battered by tourists feet. To me this was a holiday home. It lacked the warmth and touch of a ‘home’.

I came away with mixed feelings about the place. Deep down I think I would rather have seen it restored as a fort. But if not for a rich man it would still be a ruin.

We returned to the Priory.

Forgive me English Heritage for using your photo. But it is better than mine plus we cant use drones where it seems you can.

Now this is an altogether different experience. I cannot do the history of Lindisfarne Priory any justice here. You can read more here if you like. But this place really moved me. As I have mentioned before, I struggle to imagine the place back in its heyday. But the peace and serenity inside the ruins was wonderful. Birds chirped and hopped through the ruins. English Heritage do their best to inform you of the history. The Lindisfarne Gospels, St Cuthbert, St Aidan and the Viking raids. It is all rather overwhelming and of monumental significance to early Christianity on the British Isles. One of our sons studied at Durham University and it was in that city and its magnificent cathedral that I learned of the Gospels and Saints and how closely connected Durham is to Lindisfarne and why.

As we arrived at the Priory visitor centre the grey skies started to clear a little and the sun peeped through lighting up the pink stonework. It exuded warmth. Now I am not a particularly religious person but there was something about this placed that tingled.

The base of an old cross lies at the entrance between the Priory and St Marys Church opposite.

I adore the fact that in relatively modern times old traditions persist. The story of the ‘Petting stone’ made me smile.

We returned to the van to collect the dog and return to the town for lunch. A local crab sandwich. A bucket list item. Sad I know! It was Divine. With a capital D. The dog sat under our table and was the darling of the pub (as usual).

On returning to the campsite once the tide had receded enough for the causeway to become usable again we returned to our campsite to reflect on the day. We can see Holy Island in the distance from the van. It looks like any other low lying island off the English coast. Sandy, grass and with scrub covering the majority of it. Sheep are dotted about. But oh what history! Looking out to sea to the East one can imagine the Vikings approaching and seeing the same island we are looking at now. You need to go one day.

Todays distance: 11 miles

Total Distance: 2415 miles.