August 20, 2000: High Hawsker to Robin Hood’s Bay

The Lees on Ness Point

The sun was again dominant in the skies when I got up on the last day of the expedition. Since we were all using the same bathroom (which had a little hand printed signs saying “occupied” and “free” hanging from the doorknob) I snuck into the loo at 7:00 and had my last go at shaving. This wasn’t easy because the mirror was not above the sink; the latter was so tiny that you couldn’t get your canteen under the tap.

Then I returned to pack everything into my big backpack – no more Sherpa on this final four and a half mile day – and at 8:00 we went down to breakfast. The dining room was dedicated to all the trophies and ribbons won for Miss Crowe by the ponies in the backyard stud. I had stuffed newspaper into my boots, the only time this was needed on the trip, and these were now returned to me by dad – as we donned our footwear on the front porch. Tosh had stored the second half of our roast beef sandwiches in the family refrigerator and these were now returned to us as well. We made an early start, since I knew Tosh wanted to pause for geological observations and mess around in Robin Hood’s Bay and I was therefore pleased to get started at 8:45.

The morning was quite beautiful. We turned right onto the main street of the village, crossed a branch of the highway and continued forward to the first of two upmarket trailer parks (this one wouldn’t even allow dogs!). Then, still on tarmac, it was downhill, over a stream and up to the second caravan park, where we had to make our way down a line of parked mobile homes. There were quite a few people about and they all said good morning to us as we marched past. At the bottom of the hill we rejoined the Cleveland Way, just above Maw Syke and the North Sea. This was a very lovely spot – we had walked from coast to coast.

Our route, with some up and down over headlands, now lay to the south and I set a corking pace – in spite of the heavy pack on my back. I was soon perspiring. The sun was in my eyes and I had to take a handkerchief out to wipe my brow a number of times. Route finding was pretty straightforward, though once or twice I cut a headland. The Lees were well behind me for most of this stretch, but I knew they couldn’t get lost. We rounded Ness Point and passed beneath a coastguard tower and I paused every now and then to finish my second roll of film.

Our first view of Robin Hood’s Bay

By 10:00 we were rounding a corner into Robin Hood’s Bay itself, though it took quite a while for us to get a glimpse of the village, snaking down steeply to the sea. It was at this point that we encountered the camper we had met in the pub at Danby Wiske. He had already finished his walk and was strolling up to Whitby for his train. We had a rest, looking down at the town, and then continued forward amid crowds of trippers, finally reaching the highest buildings of Robin Hood’s Bay at about 10:30. A group of ceramic frogs was staring worshipfully at a real pond as we passed a suburban terrace and emerged onto the B1147.

I went into the post office to find out where we were supposed to wait for a bus that we planned to use at 11:43. The shelter was just around the corner, it turned out, though I was advised by a plummy teenager, “But you’d be hard pressed to find a bus on a Sunday” – as if I hadn’t researched the matter thoroughly on the Internet.

I get my toes into the North Sea at last.

Then we continued forward down the steep main street of the village, Tosh getting seduced by a fossil shop and all of us fighting our way through tourists and trippers –and shortly before 11:00 we were able to put a toe in the North Sea. Photos were taken and then we climbed back to the top, steeply and slowly in our full packs, and sat down outside a café for some coffee and shortbread. Unfortunately it started to rain while we were doing this and we had to head inside along with everybody else and the postcard racks.

I put on my rain jacket and at about 11:30 began the final few blocks up to the bus shelter. My heart sank when I saw a huge mob here. A Whitby bus was loading passengers – but many people were not admitted. I couldn’t tell whether the disappointed were heading north or south so I had visions of our not getting aboard the Scarborough bus, which was due five minutes later. Another couple were waiting for our bus; they had just finished the coast-to-coast path in fourteen days and I was now asked, “How long did it take you?” “Sixteen years,” I replied.

When our bus pulled around the corner at 11:43 I was relieved to discover that there was plenty of room. We were soon aboard and just as well because the heavens had opened up again and there was a lot of water about. Still, the sun was trying to come out too and up on the moor heights we had a fabulous ride, quite beautiful, through the heather. Only once did the driver stop for more passengers. We inched through Sunday traffic in Scarborough and were let off opposite the train station at 12:22. It took us a while to cross the street and there was a queue at the ticket window so there was no hope of making the 12:27.

This didn’t matter so much since there was a 1:00 train too. In the interim we went into the Head of Steam pub and had celebratory scotches. Tosh bought me a Diet Coke but it got left behind (along with her sun glasses and hat) as we moved about, looking for a good place to sit. Everybody went along the wrong side of our platform when it was train time, and had to retreat to begin anew – but at 1:00 we were off on a forty-five minute nonstop shuttle across farmland to York. We ate our sandwiches and other snacks.

When we got off the train I had a look at the video display and discovered that in three minutes there would be a Kings Cross train. This was not good news for Tosh, who wanted to use a loo and doesn’t like using the ones on the train, but Harold and I badgered her into getting on this train, which was now speeding into the station. We didn’t have seat reservations and ended up initially in the smoking car, but Tosh had a look at the next one and said it was packed and also full of screaming infants so we decided to remain in the smoke house for the two-hour ride. Anyone wanting to know whether to take up smoking should ride in one of these establishments ­– you’d be cured, literally. I dozed off a few times as we sped south, actually arriving in London about ten minutes early, at 3:45. It had been a great expedition, but I was not regretful at having finally brought the long enterprise to a conclusion.

Footpath Index:

England: A Chilterns Hundred | The Chiltern Way | The Cleveland Way | The Coast-to-Coast Path | The Coleridge Way | The Cotswold Way | The Cumberland Way | The Cumbria Way | The Dales Way | The Furness Way | The Green London Way | The Greensand Way | The Isle of Wight Coast Path | The London Countryway | The London Outer Orbital Path | The Norfolk Coast Path | The North Downs Way | The Northumberland Coast Path | The Peddars Way | The Pennine Way | The Ridgeway Path | The Roman Way | The Saxon Shore Way | The South Downs Way | The South West Coast Path | The Thames Path | The Two Moors Way | The Vanguard Way | The Wealdway | The Westmorland Way | The White Peak Way | The Yorkshire Wolds Way