I was shattered when I arrived at the White Horse and Griffin in Whitby. I unloaded my bags, and Lee went around the back of the pub and opened a door into a store crammed with cooking oil and other detritus that collects in pubs. He had to move lots of stuff in order to get Lucy in there, but he managed, and she was still there this morning. It’s an old building dating back to 1681 but was completely refurbished and opened in its current form in 1993. It’s full of timber beams and panels and the stairs creak like a ship in full sail. I was shown up three flights of stairs into the attic, the final set almost like climbing a ladder, and immediately wondered what would happen in the event of a fire. I’m amazed that it has passed a fire inspection, but I suppose that it must have done. The double bed was crammed into an alcove, such that it was impossible to get in from the side. I had to launch myself from the end of the bed when the time came. When it came to lights out there was a bright green light over the stairs that stayed on, presumably to show the way out in emergency. I was in serious pain after the days exertions and had trouble fighting off cramp in my legs so had a very restless night but didn’t feel too bad this morning
I didn’t have the energy to go out so decided to eat in the restaurant. A slightly strange veggie starter was good and the fish pie that followed was excellent, both washed down with Timothy Taylor Landlord bitter: however the prices were exorbitant, nearly double what I normally expect to pay.
For a change this morning I had porridge with honey and raspberry jam, tea and toast and marmalade. It was good and included in the room price, but, overall, I felt the White Horse and Griffin was poor value for money.
I was a bit later away today and the forecast was for sunshine and the same stiff winds but no rain. I climbed the steep hill to the Abbey and took a couple of pics. It is now strongly associated with Dracula since Bram Stoker made Whitby the landing place for the Count, but its history goes back to 657 AD and the ruins of the Benedictine Monastery that we see today were the result of the suppression of monasteries by Henry VIII.
My route away from the headland was along a quiet country road until I saw the now familiar NCR1 sign leading to what is known as the Cinder Track. As its name implies It’s a rough track, very rough in places, that follows the line of the old railway between Whitby and Scarborough. It’s 21.7 miles of mainly off-road path, occasionally crossing public roads. I climbed 450 feet and then dropped down to Robin Hood’s Bay
Before climbing once again to nearly 700 feet asl and a nine mile descent into Scarborough. Lots of variation of scenery, some with great views of the sea and sometimes in a tunnel of trees.
There were a number of gates along the route and at one of these I came up behind a chap of my age on a Cube pedelec who was vigorously rubbing his shoulder. We stopped and chatted: he had just managed to fall off his bike, hence the shoulder massage. He had cycled from Barrow-in Furness and was on his way to catch a train back home from Scarborough. He was obviously a bit of a bike nut because he immediately recognised Van Rysel as a Decathlon bike. We parted company and I stopped and took this picture
As usual I got a bit lost at the end of the trail and ended up in Tesco car park. I manged to find my way down to the sea and then climbed up the esplanade with its grand hotels overlooking the wide bay
Next resort down the coast was Filey, home to one of the original Butlin’s Holiday Camps, now a 600 holiday home development. I carried on down the coast, past several other holiday home resorts, determined to see Flamborough Head, the only chalk cliffs in the North
As I approached the Lighthouse
it started spitting with rain with the odd rumble of thunder. The sky darkened and we were hit by a squall of rain that I managed partly to avoid under a café umbrella. However the result, when the sun came out shortly afterwards was an almost perfect rainbow
Sadly my phone camera doesn’t do it justice, but it was most impressive. As an aside I think I’m taking pictures which don’t get saved.
It was about 7 miles to Bridlington, quite a large port and tourist resort
where I nearly came off Lucy as I was trying to get up a narrow ramp off the promenade. Having been spoiled with off road tracks and promenades for much of the day I now faced 12 miles of busy A road, mostly without cycle paths. About six miles from my destination at Hornsea the road forked and quietened down but as I reached the outskirts the heavens opened, and I sheltered under an overhanging roof of an enormous indoor bowls centre until the storm passed, and I found The Ashburnam Guest House where I’m staying tonight.
