Whitby walkabouts

July 15, 2024

Strangely enough, neither of us feels an urge to hop on the bike this morning. The weather is fine though so we both go out for walkabouts of different dimensions. We leave together, but before we go we have a brief coaching lesson to make sure that Rachael can find her way home again and get inside once she does. It sounds simple enough, but we had trouble with both when we arrived.

First off, the location is slightly mismapped on the Booking app and marked as being half a block away around the corner. And the address is confusing because as far as I can figure out the street name on our side of the street is different from the opposite side. Once we realized we were looking around the corner, it took us awhile longer to realize we were looking for a lock box on the wrong side of the street. Finally we find our building, but the lock box combo we’ve been given isn’t right - it’s only three digits, but the box wants four. So I call the host for further instructions and he says to look down - beneath us, at a second entrance for the basement unit.

We retrieve the key but then have difficulty both with opening the door and re-closing the lockbox. Both require discovering the magic combination of twists and motions. So before we go we have her take a photo of the building and practice retrieving the key and opening the door, since we’ll be leaving the only key in the box not knowing who will come back first.

Which reminds me of a vignette from yesterday I forgot to include: it’s an apartment, so Rachael went off to the store for breakfast fixings for the next two mornings. Fortunately she had her phone with her because later she calls for help because she can’t find the place. She’s still got the incorrectly mapped GPS route and has gone to the wrong street again. I can’t see where she is either, so I step outside and look around. No Rachael, but there is a church with a prominent steeple on the nearest corner. I confirm that she can see it too, and instruct her to walk to it, stand on the corner and look around - I’ll be waving at her. Once she’s visible to me she looks everywhere but my direction until a passerby tells her to turn around.

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So we both go off on our walks. Before getting to dumping the many photos we both came back with, there are a few things to say about Whitby. First off, we’ve been here before. We were luckier with the timing then, arriving on a hot but beautiful summer day that by chance was the evening the Queen’s Relay carrying the torch for the Commonwealth Games was passing through town. The relay point was at the ruined abbey atop the hill opposite town, and both the town and the path up the 199 step staircase up to it were jammed with spectators. One wonderful thing about this is that it let us walk around the abbey late in the day, a time when it’s nearly always closed to the public. It’s a way we’ll never see this great abbey again. So if you’re inclined you can follow that link to a different photo dump from here.

The ride getting here then was tough though - a long day that began in Pickering and went over the top of the moors and came with plenty of pain - really, a day nearly as challenging as today’s was. So we approach our walks today with the opinion that we better get a good look because we’re never coming back. As beautiful as it definitely is, it’s just too hard to get here and out again for our aging legs. By the end of the day though we’ve reconsidered - we could come back, but we’d use the train next time.

And one other thing about Whitby - it’s overrun with seagulls. You see them everywhere, you hear them constantly. There’s not a minute during the daylight hours that we can’t hear their cries, inside the apartment or out; and since it’s light something like 20 hours of the day, that’s essentially round the clock.

OK. Let’s see some photos.

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First, my walk. It’s short, it’s lazy. Part of the reason is my knees of course, but I’ve strained something from yesterday’s exertions apparently and I’ve got a shooting sciatica-like twinge in my right hip that worries me. Best to take some ibuprofen and take it easy to give it time to hopefully heal itself. Whitby is a colorful place, especially when you get away from the worst of the crowds, so it’s a fine place to dawdle.

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Like most of the north’s coastal towns and cities, Whitby is split by a river running through it - in this case, the Esk.

A look across the Esk to the north half of town. Our B&B is right on the top of the ridge, a block from the steepled church.

Gulls are everywhere. I liked this shot for the immature, who kept bobbing his head up where it was visible like he was on a bouncy toy.

The mouth of the Esk is guarded by two jetties, each with its own lighthouse.

The east jetty lighthouse. I should have taken a good picture of the taller, older west one too.

The Swing Bridge connecting the two halves of town is the latest in a series of bridges in this site dating back to the sixteenth century. It’s heavily trafficked - it was opened to boats for perhaps five minutes here, and as soon as it closed again several hundred backlogged people rushed across.

I’d been out for about two hours when Rachael called to tell me her route was changing again. She also suggested I make a dinner reservation at the Magpie. Its a good thing I did - every time I’ve gone by there was a lineup at the door waiting for seating.

Whitby Abbey, from the west-side park overlooking town. Before it is a stream of walkers climbing the 199 step staircase.

Here’s a photo of the piers from above, showing how much taller the west lighthouse is. I didn’t notice this at the time somehow or I’d have taken a photo of it.

One of Whitby’s claims to fame is its relationship with the famous seagoing explorer James Cook. He was born nearby, spent his seaman apprenticeship here and all four four of the ships for his great voyages were built here,

An arch formed by the jawbones of a whale has stood here framing the habbey and honoring Whitby’s whaling tradition for over 150 years. This is the third set of jawbones placed here, these from a whale killed by Inuits ad donated by Canada.

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And here are photos from Rachael’s walk. She started out by climbing the 199 steps and then following the cliff top path (the Cleveland Way) for a few miles before turning back. At the end she dropped down to the river to walk out to the west lighthouse and then up to the overlook park before returning home.

She’d caption these, but she’s still in recovery from her Cinder Trail ordeal.

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Tricia GrahamDear Rachael and Scott
I had such an interesting read last evening. I read your 1991 journal of your trip to New Zealand. How things change you were in pretty remote areas most of the time but even there things have changed (think it brave to ride the East Coast from Gisborne to Ōpōtiki - it us even an adventure in a car)
The biggest change however is your style of travelling. I am sure that no longer do you do seven 100km days in a row! I feel your diet has progressed a lot from crackers cheese and peanut butter! One thing that really suprised me Scott was that you passed through Miranda without a comment. Miranda is internationally know for the fact that the mud flats around it are home or times for 40 species of migratory birds but you did appreciate the very good fish and chips you got at Kaiaua shortly after - still ‘The best in NZ’
One thing though that hasn’t changed Scott is that you still lose things!
You had a wonderful exuberance of youth and certainly very fit and not put off by apparent disasters. In those days the ride to Whitby would have seemed easy - and who needs to dodge rain
Thank you for a great read and a fresh look at our beautiful country
Tricia
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