Yorkshire Day 1: To The North!

A couple of months ago, my mum and stepdad started to plan a little trip away for September. They settled on Scarborough, East Yorkshire, and very graciously invited me along with them. The reason was that they were planning to visit Whitby, a place I’ve wanted to go since I was like 13 (yes because of Dracula). I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make the ultimate Goth Pilgrimage so I accepted. I haven’t been on holiday with my parents since I was 16, so that was going to be unusual. I was excited to go though, and today we set off for our Airbnb.

Google Maps had estimated that it would take us around five hours to drive to Scarborough. That turned out to be pretty accurate, with a little more time taken for stops along the way. We made great time and had found the apartment nice and early.

The listing on Airbnb told us that this property was a newcomer to the site, with only a few reviews (but all were good). We could tell that as we went in and explored the apartment. Everything has been done up and it’s really nice. We entered through a door in the back, and we could only access the front door as a fire escape – I suppose this was to give all the flat residents as much privacy as possible.

On opening the door, we were immediately in my bedroom. I kept jokingly referring to it as ‘my hallway’ to annoy mum. It has bunkbeds with fairy lights strung around them and fluffy cushions and blankets. It’s small but cosy and the blinds block out all the light from outside which is ideal. There is a bathroom off of my bedroom which is just for me as mum and Martin have an en-suite in their room.

We call the (actual) hallway ‘the mile’ because it runs from my room at the back, all the way to the front of the flat. I joked that we could get some extra exercise by jogging up and down it. Mum and Martin’s room is really big and airy, with the original Victorian windows. It’s nicely decorated and the en-suite is small but modern. There is also another toilet along the mile, so no one will be caught short.

At the front of the flat is the living room/kitchen area. Again, everything has been done up recently and it was clean and tidy. Everything we needed was provided, and we were happily surprised by how much space there was. As the flat is in a converted Victorian townhouse, it has high ceilings with a great big bay window at the front. Placed in front of that window was an ottoman, with a grey knitted blanket folded on top. I immediately claimed this as my perch and it’s so relaxing to sit there.

There was a little basket with teabags and coffee, as well as a packet of biscuits. We weren’t expecting any welcoming stuff (because of covid), so this was a nice surprise. I immediately had a cup of Yorkshire Tea. I’ve never been to Yorkshire or had that brand of tea until now, so it felt appropriate.

When we were more or less unpacked and situated, we decided to have a walk around the area and get our bearings. First we aimed for the sea, which was only a two minute walk from our apartment. We were up on the cliffs in the South part of Scarborough, so there was a steep, zigzagging path down to the shore. Looking North, we could see the headland jutting out with the ruins of Scarborough Castle on top, the harbour and lighthouse, and a very imposing building which turned out to be the Grand Hotel.

Gradually, the road we were on sloped downwards until we were walking on the proper seafront. It was really busy there, I suppose because it was a Saturday. I put my mask on while outside because people didn’t seem to be keeping their distance very well and I was uncomfortable. This is my first time out somewhere that isn’t my home, family members’ homes, or the supermarket. I felt a bit nervy the whole time, but I think that’s because I’m not used to being out in the thick of things.

The front at South Bay is very much a seaside strip. There are lots of arcades, fish bars, pubs, gift shops, and an amusement park on the far end near the pier. If you’ve been to any coastal British town, you’re probably picturing it correctly. We walked all the way to the end of the front, where the road curves around the castle mount and leads to North Bay, and then we turned back and decided to navigate a different route up the hill and through the town centre.

On the way up the hill, we debated stopping in somewhere for tea, but instead decided to just pick up something to sit outside with. Because we’re at the coast, we of course opted for cod and chips at a little place called Leeds Fisheries. We sat on some benches behind the shop that looked out toward the lighthouse and the North Sea, with some absolutely huge seagulls lurking around to see if we dropped any morsels. The food was so delicious. The fish was amazingly fresh (we could literally see the harbour from where we sat), the batter was crispy and not too greasy, and the chips were golden, salty, and fluffy on the inside. I was sensible and opted for a small portion but it was more than enough to sate me. I haven’t had proper seaside fish and chips in so long, what a treat.

Continuing our walk up the hill, I noticed that there are lots of very cute indie shops around here. I made a mental note of a few to have a look around, mostly shops containing antiques. It was very cool as we don’t have a lot of small businesses like that at home. As you come to the ‘proper’ town centre, there are more chain stores and more of a generic high street, but I still spotted little places here and there.

We saw the train station on our walk back, and a horrible 60s-style theatre (I say it was horrible, but I absolutely loved its tackiness). We also passed the Grand Hotel’s front doors. It really is a remarkable building – no matter where you are in South Bay you can see it looming up on the cliff and dominating everything around it. It’s a shame that it seems to be less glamourous and fancy than it was back in the Victorian times.

There is a fantastic Victorian bridge near where we’re staying called Valley Bridge. It’s very pretty, but of course my morbid self immediately honed in on the Samaritans signs posted at either end. As a result, I kept referring to it as ‘the suicide bridge’, much to mum’s antipathy. 

We were stupidly roped in by a grand-looking arch saying ‘Plantation Hill’ on it, and went down the hill hoping to find a nice garden or historical site. There was a tiny bit of garden (which I later learned was the beginning of Valley Garden) but then the path just led to the road running under the bridge. This was annoying as, instead of turning back and going all the way around to the bridge again, we slogged up the steep hill on the other side. It was only when we emerged that we realised the bridge road would have taken us right across with no fuss.

The front of the house that contains our apartment.

We stopped at a pub near our apartment called the Cask Inn. Mum and Martin had cider and ale, but I just wanted a coke because I felt dehydrated. We sat outside as the inside was a bit closely-spaced for our liking – it was a bit chilly, but not horribly so.

Back at the apartment, it was a quiet and chilled out evening. We had a drink, chatted, read and did crosswords. It was really relaxing, and now I am going to bed in my tiny, twinkly nest.