To Saltburn-by-the-Sea

July 16, 2024

First, a pair of shots from our walk to dinner last night that got left out:

I’m surprised I can’t find anything about this impressive mansion in the foreground, but I at least learned that Streonsalth was an earlier, Northumbrian name for Whitby before the Vikings invaded in 867 and rebranded the town.

Walking the most direct way to the waterfront, down steep, narrow Pier Lane.

There’s no question that a lot of time has gone into keeping this journal going, but I’ve never regretted the investment. We’ve gotten so much back from it, including using it as a reference for our current travels. Today’s experience is a prime example of that. After reflecting on how challenging it was to bike into Whitby it occurred to me to remind myself of how we got out of it two years ago and compare it against our planned ride today to Saltburn-by-the-Sea.

Oh, that ride, I think to myself as I reread it - the ride to Great Ayton, a ride I remember well but mostly for the couple of miles at the top approaching Danby Beacon - desolate, unpaved miles across the open moor that were mostly walked:

What I most remember about the day though was that as we were sitting on a slab having lunch in this wilderness we were startled to see a couple approaching on foot in the distance like figures emerging from a mirage. As luck would have it, they first appear just as Rachael’s a few yards off discreetly fertilizing the heather:

We’ve got the world to ourselves so I tell Rachael she’ll be safe just stepping off the road and dropping her shorts. Then I look up and see a couple far in the distance walking our way. Five minutes later they come abreast of us and stop to chat.

They stopped when they came up to us, and we enjoyed a good long chat. A father and daughter, they were a completely agreeable pair and the encounter made a lasting impression on us.

It was worth coming this way and pushing through two miles of gravel for this lovely encounter. John’s a farmer who’s lived here his whole life. He retired two years ago and lives in the village now, walking the moors four or five miles daily. A tough old guy the same age as me, and an adder bite survivor. His daughter’s named Rachael, which astonishes both Rachael’s when they realize they share the same uncommon spelling of their names. Neither of them remembers ever seeing anyone with the same name before. Oh, and two more things about this other Rachael - she’s a nurse, and she bikes a bit herself: she once biked the 150 mile sea-to-sea route as a day ride.

I reminded Rachael of this day and she remembered it well herself. She surprised my by immediately recalling that the woman’s name was Rachael, with the same uncommon spelling - something neither of the two recalled running across before. A few seconds later she surprises me by asking if that wasn’t the day she lost her phone, and it was. Her bag was unzipped somehow and the phone fell out on the trail behind us. Fortunately her Garmin noticed its absence when we got out of range so we went back and found it on the gravel a few hundred yards back.

And I was surprised rereading it to see that this was the day I saw an adder, a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me so far. I like that because I’ve thought of it a few times recently but couldn’t remember where it was.

The main thing I’d forgotten about that day though, and the reason we have such a long intro here, was what a tough ride it was just getting up to that unpaved road - 20 miles of endless hills and vales, several of the grades steep enough that they got walked too.

So then I compare it against today’s planned route and am aghast to see that we’re about to take the exact same route all the way up to Danby before cutting back toward the sea again. If it was that challenging two years ago when we were considerably tougher than we find ourselves to be now and on a day that threatens rain again to boot, we’re definitely not signing up for a repeat of that experience.

So Plan B gets hatched and loaded to the Garmins. We’ll take the train to Castleton Moor, the first stop past Danby, and bike down to the coast from there. We’ll catch the noon departure, which will put us up at Castleton Moor just about the time the morning rains are due to stop, and after an easy eleven mile coast we’ll reach Saltburn just in time for lunch.

We’re out of the apartment at 10, bike the short downhill distance to the depot, and then settle in across the street at a cafe for an hour until it’s time to head back for departure. The train connection is smooth - easy on, easy off - and at noon we’re biking out of Castleton Moor for a few blocks until it’s time to stop for something I gave Rachael a heads up about but that still comes as a surprise: a hill.

There’s a nice cafe right across the street from the station, perfect for waiting for your departure.

At the Whitby station, smugly smiling at the thought of all those hills we’re avoiding.

At Castleton Moor. Only eleven miles between us and lunch, mostly downhill. Now if we just stay dry!

Even though we’ve avoided a ton of climbing this way, Castleton Moor isn’t the high point of the day. That would be up on top of the moor ahead, about five hundred feet above us in not much more than a mile. Do the math and you’ll know that a considerable chunk of this distance gets walked, slowly pushing the bikes up a 17-18% grade. Not pleasant, but we’re not getting rained on at least and the whole way I’m comforting myself by thinking we didn’t get to this point already beaten up by twenty miserable miles. That’s mostly what’s on my mind, that and the remaining distance before the grade eases off, when I’m startled by what I see on the road ahead. A tiny bunny, crouched inertly on the edge.

The little guy doesn’t budge even when I wheel up right next to him, and I’m wondering if he’s even still alive when he stirs and starts to move - straight ahead toward the center of the road, just as a car is approaching. I block his path with the front wheel, and after a few unsuccessful attempts to steer him back toward the protection of the heather I give it up and reach down to pick him up and drop him into it. I can’t say I’m very hopeful about his fate, but it’s the best I can do without adopting Rachael’s proposal to pop him into a pannier and adopt him as a mascot.

So we keep pushing, and eventually the road flattens enough that it’s time to remount and start pedaling. And finally we get those easy, mostly downhill 11 miles I’d promised Rachael. And other than a concerning bit of mist at the top the weather gradually improves as we come to Saltburn-by-the-Sea.

Through the heather, one more time. I wonder if this will be it for the tour?

There’s not much motion in the blades today, but it’s in our favor.

Video sound track: Secret Love, by Ry Cooder and Manual Galban

We make it to Saltburn right on schedule at around 1:30 and head directly to what looks like the best meal in town, the Seaview Restaurant. Rachael watches the bikes while I go inside to see if there’s a table free, and I return with the news that we’re in luck because there’s exactly one. It’s an excellent restaurant that lives up to its name with a beautiful view out to the sea. We both order and enjoy generous servings of stone bass, something we’ve never tried before. No food photos, but use your imagination.

And then it’s up to our apartment - and I do mean up. It’s not quite as bad as the 25% grade the sign at the bottom promises, but it’s close enough that we push the whole way on the sidewalk of the busy shoulderless street through a couple of deep switchback bends.

It’s a case of deja vu all over again when we try to find our apartment. It’s mapped reasonably accurately this time, but even with the address we have a hard time locating it. Finally we do though, in the middle of the block after the street numbers start all over again. I’m not sure, but maybe the street changes names mid-block?

Catching our breath and stopping for the view, halfway up from the waterfront.

We’re here for two nights again, which is good because there are two rides I want to take from here. I leave almost immediately on the shortest, easiest one - a flat out and back north along the coastline to the mouth of the Tees. I’m drawn to it partly by the impressive list of bird sightings eBird promises are possibilities there.

Birding is a bust once again- many black-headed gulls, rock doves, wood pigeons, swallows, and martins; a few dozen oyster catchers, a turnstone and a cormorant. Whoopee!

The ride though is quite nice, and a great way to spend the late afternoon. It definitely disposes me favorably me toward Saltburn-by-the-Sea.