August 1, 2019: Robin Hood’s Bay to Hayburn Wyke
On the Cinder Track – Gavan pauses at one of the many bridges that span the route.
I had a pretty good night’s sleep and, still unbothered by any pain from my damaged arm (which showed signs of bruising for weeks thereafter) I looked forward to resuming my role on the footpath. I did so, in part, because I knew that I would not be facing the kind of trailside perils that had did me in on the previous day – for today we would be using an alternative to the Cleveland Way itself.
Gavan had been studying the maps intently and now proposed that we use a far more congenial and level surface for further progress down the coast – the Cinder Track. We had seen signs advertising the nearby presence of this route as we entered Robin’s Hood Bay and I had done some research about it on the Internet as well. Meant primarily for cyclists, the Cinder Track, at some distance for the perilous cliffs, travels from Whitby to Scarborough – using the line of an old railway and providing a number of surfaces: tracks, paved sections and even a few patches of cinder itself. It provides sure footing and only the gentlest of ascents and its mileage figures must not vary much from those of the National Trail. I was looking forward to checking it out and everyone we talked to, knowing of my recent misadventures on the Cleveland Way, recommended its usage.
We had ordered some packed lunches from Kevin and Gavan also made a brief visit to a nearby shop before our departure at 9:00. Curiously we had visited only the top part of the upper town of Robin Hood’s Bay this time – though I had walked all the way down to the sea in 2000 in order, as Wainwright required, to dip a toe in the surf at the end of the Coast-to-Coast Path. Gavan easily lead us through a road construction site and past an imposing church and we had soon located the Cinder Track itself.
I do always enjoy an experience with an unofficial alternative – insisting only that I do need to walk both “from” and “to” the sites mandated on the official route. This is what we would do today. Improvised routes like this offer an unusual glimpse into scenes not available to the purist. In this case we passed innumerable farms and small settlements with beasts of the fields (and ducks and even llamas) on either side. Wildflowers bloomed along the margins and trees met above us. The morning was overcast and gray but not at all unpleasant. Only rarely did we encounter a crossing road – for most of these had been routed on bridges that spanned our surface and these structures added to the charm of the scene.
After a while we encountered the first of a legion of cyclists – many in lurid green or orange – but it was interesting to note that they seemed quite willing to share their route with mere pedestrians and whenever we stepped aside to let them pass they always offered a greeting and a thank you. (Horses, from the evidence underfoot, also use the Cinder Track, but we did not see any today.) Only occasionally did our route reach an open space – where we could see Robin Hood’s Bay receding behind us.
I suggested to Gavan that we might consider stepping off the route at Ravenscar for I had noticed a pub symbol on the OS map. He agreed and we made a final approach on the track – which had been rising gradually for quite some time – in order to approach this site. Just at this moment we encountered the three ladies (and two dogs) whom we had first seen at the Spa Hotel in Saltburn. They had used the Cleveland Way route along the coast to reach this spot and they were full of complaints about its difficulties – this was for us a moment for self-congratulation (having shunned this experience ourselves) and we urged them to use the Cinder Track from now on. They were walking all the way to Scarborough this afternoon and, well-behind schedule, they welcomed this suggestion. We never saw them again.
Having reached Ravenscar we pause for a pint at the Raven Hall Hotel. I am wearing the protective sleeve given to me at the emergency clinic at Whitby Hospital.
The pub symbol must refer to the bar of the nearby Raven Hall Hotel and Gavan and I could now follow its manicured entry drive and enter its elegant interior. How strange it seemed, at 12:30, to suddenly leave the footpath behind and to settle into comfy leather armchairs where the barman brought us our pints as we had a nice rest. We remained in this lap of luxury for only about forty-five minutes, however, and soon made our exit. I often take photos of places of refreshment – mostly so I won’t forget their names – but I had failed to do so on our entry since a woman was making a phone call in the doorway – and now I was thwarted by a delivery truck that was parked in front of the ornamental flowerbed.
We had soon recovered the Cinder Track but it wasn’t too long before we found a low stone wall where we could sit while eating our packed lunch. (Gavan was delighted to experience for the first time that Sainsbury’s staple, tuna and sweet-corn.)
The gray skies were beginning to lift as the track adopted a more level progress – afternoon sunshine seemed to be a pattern on this trip. Within two hours we were approaching the precincts of our evening’s accommodation, the Hayburn Wyke Inn. The proximity of this spot to the Cleveland Way had been one of my lucky discoveries as I attempted, in my planning, to provide us with stages of reasonable length – there are no villages for some distance at this spot on the coast – and I had made a reservation for us in March. The Cinder Track passes the entrance way to the spot and at 3:30 we had reached our goal after nine miles of walking – or so Gavan’s phone informed us.
Our accommodation for the night – the Hayburn Wyke Inn.
There were lots of tourists and kids out in front of this rustic haven and one little girl was playing with one of the resident Labradors. A sign asked visitors not to feed the Labs, though the younger one, it stated, liked chasing after sticks and lumps of coal. A senior cousin was asleep on a banquette in the bar as we identified ourselves and were shown to our accommodation on the first floor. Both Gavan and I agreed that this had been one of our most gratifying walking days.
I had a shower – noticing that, unlike the bathrooms recently encountered in Somerset and Devon, these in North Yorkshire still required the use of a ceiling pull cord to get any hot water. Gavan went off to have a little walk down to the seashore. He returned to report that the Cleveland Way still offered some challenging sections ahead and that we should therefore continue on the Cinder Track tomorrow.
At 6:00 or so we reported to the bar and ordered drinks and dinner. On the tabletop there was the usual array of sauces in a basket – you know: brown sauce, ketchup, tartar sauce – but I told Gavan that here was something that suddenly elevated the Hayburn Wyke Inn to the pinnacle of innovation. I was referring to the presence, in each basket, of a pair of scissors – an implement that would at last make it easy to open one of these resistant pouches. Well done!
After dinner Gavan began his ritual exchange (via text and Skype) with his Jill. We rarely turned the TV on (no sports of any interest to Gavan) and when we did so it was just to catch the local weather. We now learned that we would have a sunny day on the morrow, though much warmer than we had experienced so far. It took a long time for the light to fade from the skies (and it was replaced by a floodlight in the parking lot below) but at last we fell asleep.
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