Day 15: Trains and boats and trains....

More Wuthering Heights type weather as we woke this morning - howling wind and rain - but we had a plan and by jingo, we were going ahead with it!  Donning our galoshes and bri-nylon breeze bonnets, we fanged the Renault Captur down 30 miles of what our sat nav (on those occasions when it can actually pick up a gps signal) calls "unnamed roads" to Pickering, so we could catch a steam train to the large coastal town of Whitby. 

The train service is run by volunteers from the North Yorkshire Moors Railway.  The rail service to Whitby had closed many years before, and these volunteers resurrected it, raising funds to buy steam and diesel engines, carriages etc. It's a very slow trip - almost 2 hours - but that's the whole point and the scenery is glorious.  As an added bonus, it passes through a station called Goathland (pronounced Goatland - true!) which was used as the local railway stations: Darrowby in "All Creatures Great and Small"; Aidensfield in "Heartbeat" and Hogsbreath (or something similar) in the first Harry Potter movie.  This isn't a great pic as we weren't allowed off the train. 

Also not a great pic because it was taken from the train (this time hurtling along at its top speed - 35 mph) - we saw so many lovely pastoral scenes like this black ewe and lamb. Geoff reckons they're not related. I disagree. Recessive genes, Gregor Mendel and all that.  The countryside was so green, if damp, and I kept expecting Little Boy Blue to come skipping out of the foliage. (Not really. But I did think of several nursery rhymes that seemed to fit the occasion.)   




When we got to Whitby the rain let up for a bit, which was pleasing, and we climbed 199 steps (the sign said so) to Whitby Abbey, originally built in 657 AD.  We admired it from a distance and it is spectacular, as most ancient ruined abbeys are, but we saw one earlier in the week and that was enough. Also it would have cost 6 pounds each.  This was not a Cistercian abbey, which, being so well-versed in that esoteric branch of Catholicism, we knew immediately.  Previous Cistercian abbeys visited include Tintern (2 years ago) and Rievaulx this week.  Both were located in river valleys. It has been said that a blind, medieval Cistercian monk from Poland would have felt right at home in a British Cistercian abbey as their layouts were identical.  My point (and there actually is one, stay with me) is that Whitby Abbey could not be Cistercian because it's on the top of a humungous hill, exposed to all the wind, elements and the mighty North Sea, not in a peaceful river valley. 

The views from the top were panoramic. Geoff will add a few more when he signs in for bloke news, coming up shortly but not yet.

We got caught in a torrential downpour at one stage and had to take refuge in a shop doorway with four people and about 17 dogs. That was fine by us! They do love their dogs here - we saw quite a few on the train.    

                                                                                And finally from me: we were told we had to eat fish and chips in Whitby because it's the best in the UK. So at lunchtime we did just that.  You will understand why Gourmet Traveller wants me to freelance for them as a food photographer/stylist/writer:
"A crusty, 18 carat golden doorstop of cod, reclined coquettishly beside a muddle of fresh, seasonal, locally-sourced, hand-cut pomme frite batons that had been lovingly sautéed in a deep spa of exotic tropical oil...".



Over now to Mr Geoffy for beer updates and other bloke news.

The train trip was a gem and those who are responsible for the line and the trains can take a well deserved bow.  In due course I'll be saying so in the reviews section of their website.  Steam train buffs will salivate at this:

This is the return train arriving at Whitby.  If I knew the first thing about steam trains I could tell you why the engine is facing backwards, but alas ... Once it arrives, it de-couples, travels to the other end of the train and reconnects, this time facing forwards.  Oh, hang on, maybe that's why it faces backwards one way.  Anyway ... Next time you're in the vicinity of the North Yorkshire Moors, definitely do this.

And as for Whitby ... the first glimpse for us of the North Sea, more giant seagulls and about a thousand pubs between the train station (starting with the Station Inn), and wherever you're going.  More on that subject later.  And, as Anne has said, the abbey.  In case you're hanging out for more ruined abbey scenes (and let's face it, you can never get enough), here's another:

OK, I think that's about enough.  Now, on to lunch and sundry other refreshments.  While Anne has expertly captured the essence of the fare (look to your laurels Terry Durack, oh and by the way, I 'ad the 'addock), more needs be said about the venue, specifically the Duke of York:

With a panoramic and uninterrupted view (no, I'm serious) over Whitby harbour, it features great English pub décor and an excellent ale selection.  I had a Black Sheep bitter, and a fine drop too.  The walls also feature informative historical seafaring information about Whitby, in case you feel the need for bit of education to accompany your Black Sheep.  Anyway, I think I've found my new favourite pub.  Until tomorrow anyway.  Did you know that Captain Cook RN (yes, OUR  Captain Cook) is Whitby's most famous adopted son?  'Adopted' because he was born in Middlesborough, up the road, but spent a lot of time in Whitby pursuing his seafaring career.  There's a whole museum in town devoted to him.  And HMS Endeavour was actually built in Whitby.  I include all this lest the reader think that the totality of my priorities consists of quaffing huge quantities of the amber fluid.

But before I go, some more information about the Black Sheep brewery, a Yorkshire institution these days. Before 1987, the Theakston brand was much loved in Yorkshire.  I could divert now and explain the derivation of its most famous brew, the Old Peculier (no, it's not a misspelling), but will leave that for another lesson.  Anyway, at that time the brewery was taken over by a hated large chain, whereupon one of the five Theakston brothers parted company and set up Black Sheep as a boutique operation.  But in 2004, the other four brothers managed to purchase the Theakston brand back from the devil worshipping multinationals, and so there are now two worthy Yorkshire brands. Is any body still with me?  OK, that's enough Yorkshire history for today.

Archangel Anne here again. Last full day in Yorkshire tomorrow. I'm missing it already.  Till tomorrow night, BWT (Bishop Wilton Time) xxx.