Whitby and Filey

Photographs by Mike Vickers

Feature photo above: Whitby and its clifftop abbey, made famous in Bram Stoker’s Dracula

We took a four day autumn mini break to North Yorkshire, and this mini break fully warrants an appropriate mini article. It’s a lovely part of the UK, with delightful rolling countryside and a dramatic North Sea coastline. The weather wasn’t entirely co-operative, but come on, this was Yorkshire, visited outside of its usual half dozen sunny days of summer, so what do you expect.

Fortunately, we experienced a reasonable day for travelling north from Gloucester to Wetherby, where we stopped for a delicious lunch at the Bay Horse in Kirk Deighton with friends before enjoying a very picturesque route along the quiet A168 – which runs parallel to the much busier A1M – through Thirsk, up Sutton Bank and on through Helmsley, Kirby Moorside and Pickering. The North York Moors were truly lovely, a rolling, russet-hued and empty landscape. We took a quick peep around Goathland, forever known as the fictional Aidensfield from the TV series, Heartbeat, and then dropped down into Whitby.

Our destination was the Corra Lynn, a large Victorian guest house, substantial in character and sturdy enough to shrug off the storms coming in from the sea nearby. Our room was spacious, high ceilinged and very comfortable, with an en-suite bathroom and sofa for watching the TV. After settling in, we took a short early evening walk to the famous Whalebone Arch overlooking the harbour below. The sea was beginning to run in as the wind got up, exactly as per the weather warning on the news, so we took the steps down off the cliff headland and dropped in to the Fisherman’s Wife for supper. Being a fish restaurant overlooking the harbour entrance, Jan tucked into a big bowl of mussels while I opted for the delicious home made fish cakes. Oddly enough, we discovered our waitress once lived in Gloucester not three miles from where we now live ourselves.

The rain started to spot as we walked back to B&B. I suspect all these forecasters simply peer out of the window to know what the weather’s doing.

We awoke the following morning to relentless heavy rain and a very – and I mean, very – blustery wind. That weather warning was correct. Even the most inept forecaster could not help but notice the torrential rain lashing the windows sideways on! Even Jan got in on the act and announced in a professional observation, ‘It’s blowing a hoolie and pissing down.’ She wasn’t joking. Then again, we were in Yorkshire, so I don’t know why we were surprised – they’d actually had their usual sparse sunny summer days months ago.

What can I say. The lashing rain and hard gusting wind created a dull grey but cheerfully miserable morning. Those of you who live in the UK are entirely familiar with that particular meteorological oxymoron. After a hearty breakfast, served by our hosts Simon & Michelle, we waited for an hour to see if there was any improvement, but there wasn’t, so we went out anyway.

We took the coast road north to Staithes and Saltburn, passing through the occasional floods with standing water everywhere. I switched the windscreen wipers to frantic speed but it didn’t make much difference. I got a faceful of sea spray having foolishly opened the window to take a photo of the seas crashing over the road. Jan did say, ‘You’ll get wet,’ and as usual, she was right. We decided to skip Staithes as the weather was – well, unencouraging to say the least, and drove on to Saltburn. The sea was thundering in, creamy waves rolling over with slow majesty to crash down onto the beach. I absolutely love a rough sea and stood watching for a while, wishing I had windscreen wipers on my glasses.

We were in Saltburn for a reason. Jan wanted to visit the well-reviewed Seaview Restaurant for lunch, but it was closed. The car park was full of annoyed people, all of whom, like us, had braved the terrible weather only to be disappointed. It was also closed when we came up last year. Bit of a theme going on here. Maybe third time lucky next year, by which time we’ll have driven the thick end of a thousand miles back and forth just to get a decent fish lunch!

Our return journey was along the same road, with the same rain, the same flooding and even more standing water. We stopped in Sandsend for a coffee at the Witsend Cafe, followed by a delicious crab and chips lunch in The Hart Inn at East Row. The pub was lovely and snug with an open fire circled by snoozing dogs.

Returning to windy Whitby, we could detect no let up in the storm. Although we promised never to complain about the English weather after experiencing those relentlessly horrific Turkish summers, this was seriously stretching our patience. Retiring to our room, damp and windswept, we each had a bath to warm up, then took to bed and watched TV eating an evening bed banquet of sandwiches and crisps as wind howled outside, hurling itself against our building. But we were safe. This was Yorkshire, land of notably sturdy houses renowned for nonchalantly shrugging off even the most vicious of tempests.

After a very stormy night, the morning was a little brighter, with patches of actual blue sky. That was a bit of a shock! However, it was still very windy, so much so that the Corra Lynn even declares in its literature that it sits on a windy corner. We checked out after breakfast, parked in Whitby town centre and strolled over swing bridge into the old town. This was a quality amble. Jan and I are seasoned amblers. Shops were investigated and corners explored. We tried to get down by the river but, emerging from behind a building, were driven back by a wind so powerful it nearly tipped us over.

On leaving Whitby, we headed to Robin Hood’s Bay. By this time, the clouds were beginning to thin out and disperse. We walked down from the car park into the village via a very steep hill. Intriguing back alleys begged to be explored. We liked the village very much. It reminded us of Clovelly in North Devon. The sea was still running high, but at least now the sun was out, turning the combers white. I have to tell you it was a long climb back up to the car park. Where’s the wind when you need it to help push you up the hill…

Our next stop was Ravenscar and the Raven Hall Country House Hotel. Sat up on a high headland, this place was, by necessity, a substantial building. After coffee, I left Jan inside and went for a walk around the grounds to take some photos of the stunning views, but the very exposed location meant Jan’s hoolie was so strong I could barely hold the camera steady. Talk about bracing – gulls whipped past at a speed that would have seen them reach Leeds in minutes! There was a wedding in progress when we arrived and we watched the photographer take the bride and groom out into the gardens to take some photos. They returned some time later, the bride huddling under her new hubby’s jacket, her carefully coiffed hair a tousled windswept catastrophe and a look of thunder on her face. Oh dear.

On to Scarborough, where we drove along Marine Drive and through the town centre before arriving at Helen and Andy’s, our friends and hosts for the weekend, and we had a wonderful catch-up over supper.

Would you believe it – we woke to a sunny morning! Properly sunny, as well, not that wishy-washy watery stuff that so often masquerades as sunshine in England. It was lovely to see after all that rain. Late morning found us in the lovely town of Filey. We’ve always liked Filey. It’s a traditional old Victorian seaside resort with a lovely wide sandy beach – but not today. The tide had turned and big waves still creamed in from the recent storm, breaking over the rocks of Filey Brigg.

We walked along the cliff top and into town. Filey has lots of small interesting shops and, as far as I could see, no garish amusement arcades or casinos. Neither were there endless estate agents, which safely sets it apart from Fethiye! We strolled down to the seafront prom, now busy after the recent storm, and experienced the English seaside at its autumnal best: sunshine, happy crowds, lots of dog walkers, chips and curry sauce lunch (chips and gravy for Jan) followed by a 99 ice cream. Perfection.

On leaving Filey, we passed through Gristhorpe to see where Jan used to work at Dale Power Systems many years ago, but the factory is long gone and it’s now a housing estate. This is the inevitable fate of many industrial sites across the country. The engineering company I used to work at has suffered an identical fate. I’ve estimated the exact location of my desk is now in someone’s downstairs toilet. It’s little coincidences like that which make you believe there is a god – and she does have a wicked sense of humour.

Back to Scarborough we drove around the old harbour and along Marine Drive, now busy with weekend visitors just glad to be out and about getting some fresh air after the storm. That evening, we went out for a really lovely dinner at The Bryherstones Country Inn at Cloughton. My steak pie was cracking, one of the best I’ve ever had, and Jan had sausage and mash. It was lovely evening in great company.

After breakfast the following morning, we said our goodbyes to Andy and Helen and got back on the road, heading across to York and then down south on the motorway all the way back to Gloucester. It’s a long drive, but at least the weather was pleasant. And dry.

We got home and guess what – the cats were waiting. They’re always waiting. It’s unnerving,  like something out of a Hitchcock movie.

The Bay Horse at Kirk Deighton 01937 290163

Corra Lynn Guest House, contact Simon and Michelle on 01947 602214

The Hart Inn at East Row 01947 893304

The Bryherstones Country Inn at Cloughton 01723 870744

That’s another 582 miles on Roger the Renault.