July 30, 2019: Staithes to Whitby
Having rejoined the route after Staithes we walk along the edge of wheat fields on our right.
As he often did on this trip, Gavan took off well before breakfast on a supply mission. Today, the second day of our walk, he visited the Co-op on the nearby highway in order to get our lunch materials – including a supply of energy drinks. At breakfast Jane suggested that we needn’t drop all the way down to Staithes harbor – only to face a steep climb out of its valley – we could, instead, rejoin our route without much elevation change by using field paths that began nearby. She even drew us a detailed map. We were able to depart at a far more sensible 8:30 this morning.
It was far brighter today and quite pleasant as we left our b&b and turned left at the next street corner, passing through suburbia and onto a farm track. Gavan was soon well ahead of me but I was surprised to see him returning in my direction. He said that some of the route proposed by Jane was overgrown but I had a solution. We had reached Cliff Farm and there was a track heading back to the coastline here – all we had to do was use it and we had soon reconnected with the Cleveland Way.
The angle of ascent was a little more humane this morning and we were making good time as we rounded Beacon Hill and reached a line of houses at Port Mulgrave. For a while we were able to use a tarmac lane and then we resumed our footpath to pass Lingrow Cliffs and Wrack Hills. Our next objective was the village of Runswick Bay – where more road walking eventually led us down to seashore itself.
The route now had to be accomplished on the sands of the bay and so we plowed forward under darkening skies. On our right were some small caves, the Hob Holes – where in times past a visit meant that the local hob-goblin would soon enough cure your whopping cough. Shortly after passing these caverns there was a most unusual escape from the sands.
The escape from the sands after Runswick Bay calls for the ascent of this unlikely stretch – half path, half beck.
The coastline is often punctuated by streambeds, ravines that required deep descents and corresponding climbs up the opposite side. In the present case we were invited to meet the stream as it reached the sands and climb up it! This was a perilous prospect as it was hard to find useful (and dry) footholds in the rocky chute and progress (well, mine especially) was very slow. Eventually steps allowed us to make a safer passage uphill and to reach the cliff top again. At the next bench (always a welcome addition to the scene) we ate our lunch.
Having gained High Cliff itself we continued on more congenial surfaces, passing a farmhouse and the promontory of Kettleness on our left. A descent into woodland at Deepgrove Wyke presaged a more level passage around Sandsend Ness. At last we rounded a corner and could see before us the quite sizeable village of Sandsend itself. By this time the sun had returned to the scene (I actually picked up a lot of sun under my chin and on the back of my neck). Gavan and I both agreed that it was time for a pint. Progress had to be made through the throngs of holidaymakers but at a critical roundabout we spotted the Hart Inn.
Gavan had booked us into a b&b in Whitby and, sensing that this would be our longest day, I had suggested that an alternative would be to take a taxi on to Whitby now and return to Sandsend in the morning, grafting the three missing miles onto tomorrow’s stint. But by now I was looking forward to a nice short day tomorrow and I still had enough energy to press on the Whitby itself. So after we had finished our drinks we resumed our march.
This was not the most pleasant of experiences. We were provided with our own pavement but the route climbed a long hill for over a mile on the margins of the A174 and there was constant traffic. Eventually a track led off through a golf course and we were able to escape this scene. We dropped into a gulley and then continued forward on a paved footpath that took us around the corner – where we were at last able to see the buildings of Whitby itself.
It seemed to take forever to reach them – though perhaps I was just running out of steam. The closer we got the more vacationers appeared and as we used cliff top garden grass we even met up with our trio of fellow walkers and their dogs. (I also saw two beautifully groomed Schnauzers up here). Our friends were searching for a route to their b&b but I had printed some maps showing where ours could be located and Gavan now used one of these to navigate away from the cliffs and down to the Arches Guest House on Hudson Street. It was again 5:30 but this time we had walked 12.5 miles.
The Captain Cook statue (and seagull) in Whitby.
Our host David showed us to our room and, as I usually did, I threw off my clothes and collapsed onto my bed. I think I may even have dozed off while Gavan took his shower. I took mine as well and we set off in search of our evening meal. Whitby is a setting for Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the latter would certainly not have enjoyed the radiant late afternoon sunshine as we paused to take photos of the Captain Cook statue (with seagull on top) and the jawbones of a whale. Across the harbor there also stood the impressive ruins of Whitby Abbey.
Gavan had his heart set on fish and chips and so we had a walk of some ten minutes or so (on a street named after the Khyber Pass) before dropping down to a street that housed amusement arcades and the Magpie restaurant. (I was glad I still had my stick with me for I was quite stiff and leg-weary.) We had a short wait before a table could be found for us but the meal was quite satisfactory. At its conclusion there was a steep uphill climb to reach our b&b again but there was still light in the skies as we regained our room and our beds. Another early night followed.
To continue with this account your need: