Yorkshire Day 5: Whitby

I actually got up early and put my face on today. I wanted to look presentable for my first visit to Whitby. We were up and out fairly early as our appointment at the Abbey was at 11 and we wanted to have plenty of time to park up and get up there. The half-hour drive was an easy one, and the views of the North Moors we drove through were very pretty and rugged.
We parked next to the harbour and near the train station. The sun was beaming off of the water and it was a pleasant, ambient temperature. We had to cross the old Whitby Bridge to get to the side of the bay that the Abbey stands on. The bridge is charming, but we were told off as there is apparently a one-way system currently being used (there was no signage, so not sure how we were meant to know this).

The place is absolutely beautiful and everything I’d hoped, except it’s really busy. Even with Covid rules. I dread to think how packed it gets in peak season in a normal year. It did kind of spoil the magic a bit for me, so be prepared for a lot of spatially-unaware people if you plan to go.

To get to the famous 199 steps, you walk up a darling cobbled street, really narrow and quaint. It’s lined with nothing but independent shops and pubs, adding to the local, cosy feel. We spied a few places we wanted to look in later on but for now we had a date with Whitby Abbey.

I lost count while climbing the stairs, but I’m sure they’re not lying about the number of them. I’ve definitely gotten a lot fitter this year as I absolutely beasted the steps (it also helps that they’re shallow in height but wide in foot space). My favourite thing was the so-called ‘coffin benches’ that appear in intervals along the railings. They look innocuous enough, a resting place for people to stop if the steps are too much, but they were actually originally used to rest coffins on as pallbearers took the long march up to the church. It was fine trotting up the stairs by myself, but I couldn’t imagine having to carry a body and coordinate with five other people up them. The coffin benches would have definitely been a useful addition.

I wanted to take a photo looking down on the harbour when I reached the top of the steps. This turned out to be a debacle as there were a lot of people, including two girls who had to take about 8000000 photos of each other in the same spot, so I couldn’t get the nice, clear shot that I wanted. Imagine not being aware of people and space around you and just blocking everyone else’s way/view – couldn’t be me.

A crap-quality photo of one of the coffin benches.

The steps lead right up to St. Mary’s church (yes, another one). It was founded in the late 12^th century, but the interior of it is as modern as the 19^th century. It’s surrounded by a lovely, spacious graveyard with a lot of Victorian graves. We were running early for our Abbey visit, so we took a turn around the graveyard. We walked around the headland and looked out to the bay and the sea beyond. Turning back from the cliff’s edge, headstones led to the church, and the silhouette of the Abbey rose up in the background. It was a very atmospheric place, even if it was still really sunny.

To actually get to the Abbey from St Mary’s, you have to walk around the perimeter of the site to the official entrance. It’s about half a mile, which we didn’t realise until we were there. Thank goodness we were early! We could have parked in the Abbey car park, right outside the site entrance, but we’re cheap and didn’t want to pay more for parking. It was a nice walk, anyway – the sun shone, and we could look at the Abbey from all angles on our way. We passed Whitby brewery and Martin vowed to get some Whitby ale to take home.

Before we went in, we used the only toilet facilities on the site. For the love of all that is holy, please don’t use the toilets unless you absolutely have to. Firstly, you have to pay 20p to get in, but they’re also horrible. They stank and seemed pretty unhygienic. I’m hoping we just caught them on a bad day, but it was unpleasant, and the toilet company sort of has you over a barrel as there aren’t any others available in or around the Whitby Abbey site.

Another mini rant I’d like to have is about people who can’t plan ahead. There was a small group of people arguing with the English Heritage volunteer outside the entrance because they hadn’t pre-booked their visit. Because of Covid-19 English Heritage, like most places, require you to book in advance so that they can carefully control how many visitors are in a site throughout the day. It’s sensible and really not that difficult, but these people apparently hadn’t even looked on the website for info and had just swanned up thinking they could walk in. I can’t imagine being so unprepared – I looked up every place I wanted to visit during this trip to make sure a) they were open and b) I pre-booked anything that required it.

Once we’d shown our tickets and been permitted entry, there’s another trek across a large field to get to the foot of the ruins. You have to take a bit of a long way around, as the marshy field has several ponds dotted around. As we were walking towards it, the sun came out from behind a cloud and lit up the wall we were facing, highlighting the wonderful brickwork. I might have almost walked into a large pond because of the distraction.

I was immediately enamoured. I knew that Whitby Abbey was a beautiful place, having seen many photos and descriptions of it. But, as always with travel, nothing really prepares you for seeing something there in front of you. It’s a surreal feeling, especially when it’s something you’ve wanted to see for almost as long as you can remember.

Me on a mission towards the Abbey.

As we came around to the side of the ruins, there was what appeared to be a stone grave in the ground. I’ve had a look around online and can’t find any information about it, which makes it even creepier. I joked about it being my bed, of course.

The ruins are much larger than they look in photos, and they are absolutely stunning. I kind of feel like the ruins are more beautiful than if the entire building still stood. I wandered around for absolutely ages just taking in all of the details. Many photos were taken, but I’ll only select a few for this post or we’ll be here all night.

Before I continue, I’ll go over some history of the Abbey. Excavations have led historians to believe that the site was settled as early as the Bronze Age, though a monastery wasn’t built until the 7^th century, when an Anglian community settled there. The monastery was founded by Hild, who was later canonised as a saint. The monastery was abandoned during Viking raids, and stayed that way until the early 11^th century when it was revived as a Benedictine monastery. In the 13^th century, the whole thing was rebuilt in the Gothic style you see today. As always, I’ve condensed almost two thousand years of history, so I’ll drop a link to the English Heritage page. Definitely have a read if you’re interested in learning more.

Of course, the reason the Abbey sits in ruins is because of Henry VIII suppressing it in the 16^th century. There’s a bit of a running theme of old Harry ruining everything, isn’t there? A lot of the west front of the site was also taken out by German bombardment in the First World War. It’s actually kind of impressive that so much is still standing.

The Gothic architecture is still stunning and intricate, with added character from hundreds of years of exposure and weathering. I could have sat up there all day – I imagine it’s a lovely picnic spot when there isn’t a global pandemic happening.

No matter which angle you come at it, Whitby Abbey offers dramatic, striking views. Depending on the way the light hits it, it can look bright and welcoming or eerie and foreboding. I especially liked this photo I took when the sun disappeared behind the clouds, silhouetting the hulking shape of the ruins.

I curse being unphotogenic and really shit at posing, but here’s a photo Mum took of me chilling. We sat for a long while, looking at the silhouetted ruins and soaking up the sunlight – despite the breeze, it was really warm.

Once we’d had our fill of the ruins, we masked up and went into the on-site museum which was fortunately open. In there, I learned a lot of the history of the site, as well as seeing some fantastic fossils and jet pieces on display. I also learned an amusing story about ammonites, which are in abundance here on the Jurassic Coast. A lot of these spiral-shaped fossils have been found in and around Whitby, and a legend sprung up around them. It’s said that St Hilda (the Hild I mentioned before) got rid of a plague of snakes by turning them all to stone. My Mum has a phobia of snakes, and became a big St Hilda fan on reading that story. We actually spotted a couple of fossils that had had snake heads carved into them, too.

My favourite thing in the whole museum, though, was a first edition of Dracula, signed by Bram Stoker. I can’t imagine how valuable that is, and I seethed with envy when I saw it.

The museum was really interesting. Because it’s smaller, we got the chance to read all of the little signs and titbits without being overwhelmed. The museum is linear and then leads to a slope that takes you down into the gift shop. I had been a bit worried about this part. I thought I might buy everything in sight. Incredibly, I managed to be fairly reasonable, though the payoff was spending forever in the shop trying to decide. In the end I bought: two magnets (one for my Dad), a handmade mug with a cool Whitby Abbey design on it, a coaster, and a little hanging decoration of the Abbey. There was so much jet jewellery, a Whitby GIN, and lots of vampire-themed things – I definitely recommend looking in there when you visit (but ware your wallet!).

Back at the bottom of the 199 steps, we turned right onto Henrietta Street to find a fishmonger I’d read about. It’s called Fortune’s Kippers and has been running since 1872, making it the oldest smokehouse in Whitby. It’s also the most authentic, using a traditional oak-smoking technique to prepare the fish. We had been able to smell the smoke from up on the cliffs, and the smell only got more pervasive as we walked down the road towards it. We were invited to take a peek in the smokehouse, and got three kippers to eat for breakfast tomorrow. I’ve never had a kipper before, so I think it’s best that my first one should be a really traditional and top-quality one.

Back down the cobbled lane to Church Street, Mum and I had to make a stop in W Hamond, the first Whitby jet shop. It sells other jewellery, but I really wanted to see the jet itself. It’s so expensive, but there were absolutely beautiful pieces in there. Cameos carved from pure jet, rings and necklaces with inlaid jet shined up to a lustre, and a magnificent spiky crown of jet and other jewels. I have no idea where you would have worn this thing, but it was so beautiful and cost over £3000. I joked that I needed this crown to sweep around the house with.

We also took a turn around the Jet Museum, operated by W Hamond. There were so many stunning pieces of jewellery and ornaments, I dread to think how much they’re worth these days. I found out that jet is in fact petrified bark from a Jurassic ancestor of the monkey puzzle tree, and is around 180 million years old. It’s becoming incredibly rare, as it’s been used as a precious stone since pre-historic times, so it’s quite valuable, and you can only get this particular jet in Whitby.

Because it’s pitch black and ever so shiny, Whitby jet was a favourite material of the Victorians to use in mourning jewellery, of which there was a lovely little collection in the museum.

There was a tiny chocolatiers called Justin’s that I immediately wanted to go into because there were chocolate coffins in the window. Before you ask, they weren’t full-sized (though that would have been amazing), but they weren’t all a uniform shape and size as they’re handmade. I got one, and also a small bag of ‘Vampire’s Dream’ fudge, which was strawberry flavoured and delicious.

In one of the many, many jet shops I found a little sterling silver necklace with a bat-shaped pendant. It had a little piece of jet inlaid on the bat’s chest and it was so cute. It was also fairly reasonably priced at £35. I vowed that I’d come back for it if I didn’t find anything else that I liked more.

We were hungry by this time and decided to find a quiet-ish place for lunch. A pub called The White Horse & Griffin soon caught our eye and we were relieved to find that it wasn’t too packed and there was plenty of space between guests. We all opted for a Whitby cod and chips dinner. Martin went mad and had a large portion, which was the source of hilarity when the waiter brought it out to him. This thing must have been a whale, I’m not kidding – it was huge. We fell about laughing when we saw it, it was so impressive.

Dinner was so delicious – the cod was as fresh as you can get from the harbour. The batter was light and crispy, not too oily. The chips were fluffy and perfectly seasoned, and the meal was served with tartare sauce and some absolutely divine minted mushy peas. I practically inhaled my plate, it was so good (and walking around the windy headland had really worked up my appetite).

After we’d finished our food and drinks, we dropped Martin at a pub called The Green Dragon (my inner LOTR geek loved this name) to sample some ales, so that Mum and I could look around the shops without boring him to death. I went back to Genuine Whitby Jet and got the bat necklace - someday I will own a huge piece of Whitby jet, but for now this will do nicely.

I had promised Caz (oldest pally, cohort on my Tokyo trip) that I’d buy her a really tacky souvenir from Whitby, and I found the perfect thing in one of the gifts shops. It’s a little statue of a cartoony Dracula, holding a sign saying ‘I ♥ blood banks’. It’s glorious and hideous and I adore it. We found Martin in a different pub, The Black Horse, and had to wait outside because it was at full (reduced) capacity.

Soon enough, the time was beginning to run out on the car so we made a decision to come back on Friday to see some other things I had on my list. We got a quick ice cream and ate them on the way back to the car park.

I was so tired when we got home. It isn’t even late, so I’ve just been chilling and reading. I’m really looking forward to going back and seeing more of Whitby on Friday. I’m also kind of hoping for a gloomier day – I appreciate the sunshine but I’m a slave to the aesthetic~

Here’s a photo of my winnings from today, minus the Vampire’s Dream fudge because that is long gone:

Yorkshire Day 4: Bridlington

It was another nice, slow morning today. We had plans, but no time-sensitive appointments so we didn’t have to be anywhere particularly quickly. I had a dark chocolate and raspberry Grenade bar for breakfast. I’ve been working my way through all of the flavours, and this one was really good. In fact, there haven’t been many I don’t like (though I won’t go near peanut flavoured anything, yuck).

Our plan today was to go to Bridlington, a small seaside town about a half hour drive south from Scarborough. The drive went really smoothly as there wasn’t a tonne of traffic around, so we made good time and got to the town by about 10:20. We parked a little way out and walked to the seafront.

As we were walking on a road called Prospect Street, we made a detour into a garden with a cenotaph standing in it. The garden turned out to be a war memorial and had several commemorative stones for Burma and the 50^th anniversary of Dunkirk. There was also a stone donated by the Trinity United football club, and a bench in memory of a Corporal who died in Afghanistan at only 23. The cenotaph itself was originally erected after World War I, but also included names from the wars that have happened since, all the way up to Afghanistan in 2010. It was a really beautiful and sad place, and I’m glad we stopped to read the stones and take a moment.

We walked through town toward the seafront. The sun had come out and it turned out to be a beautiful day. The town is quite nice – like Scarborough, there’s a lot of indie shops and businesses, so it feels very quaint and communal. We took our time strolling towards the sea and clocked a bakery we wanted to revisit later (there were huge, beautiful pork pies in the window).

Because the sun had suddenly made an appearance, we decided to stop at a nearby ice cream shop called Jerome’s. They had a big variety of flavours, but I eventually settled on ‘birthday cake’. There were bits of cake and sprinkles in it, with the ice cream itself tasting like vanilla cake batter. I also got it in a waffle cone, as a treat. The three of us were really impressed with the quality of the ice cream, and there was sudden quiet as we walked along the promenade eating them.

The promenade at Bridlington is really wide and well-kept, so there was plenty of space to walk despite it being fairly busy. There were so many dogs too, so I was pleased. Our walk up along the coast was laid back and leisurely, with the sun shining between patches of cloud. I felt really content and relaxed, it was a lovely atmosphere.

We soon realised that there wasn’t really anything at the other end of the prom and just strolled back towards where we’d started, where the funfair stood on the shore and a pier jutted out after that. We decided to walk on the pier and look into the harbour from there.

Gansey Girl – a statue of a girl knitting a traditional fisherman’s jumper – was put on the pier in 2015 to honour the fishing families of Bridlington.

We sat at the end of the pier to look out at the sea, and were soon met with the sight of a pirate ship floating by. As it began to turn in to the harbour, we could see the people sitting on deck. A tiny child was in there, not sure if they should wave to the people on the pier, so I encouraged them by giving a big, hearty wave. We watched it all the way to where it moored, and spotted a sign saying that you could have a 10-minute ride in the pirate ship for just £2! Obviously we had to.

There was only a small group of us on the boat so it was nice and peaceful. The sea was calm but had enough bumps to make the ride fun. It was nice to see the seafront from out on the water and feel the spray from the sea on our faces. At one point a speedboat went by with everyone on it waving and calling to us, and we all waved back. It was just a really lovely interval in the day, and I’m glad we did it.

The sea air had worked up our appetites, so we went back to the bakery we’d spied earlier. I got a cheese scone and the hugest shortbread cookie I’d ever seen. We went back to the seafront to sit and eat, and my baked goodies were delicious and really homey.

After that, we walked the opposite way up the seafront, through the harbour. I made it to the lifeboat station before I decided to sit down. I was flagging really badly, for no reason, and felt too tired to keep going. Martin went on ahead to see if there was anything else of interest and Mum and I sat on the wall and chilled until he got back.

On the way back toward the main town, we stopped a small out-of-the-way coffee shop to escape the more crowded places. I had a mocha and it was nice to sit and rest with a hot drink. My poor knees were in a right state at this point, and I was thinking wistfully of the painkillers I had back in the car. Once we’d had a decent sit down, we set off again to start heading back.

There was a quaint-looking sweet shop just off the seafront, called Fudgetastic. It sold all of the sweets you’d expect at the seaside like fudge, nougat and rock. It was a really cute little place. After I’d wandered around for a bit, I found the best thing ever – DRACULA ROCK. It’s a stick of rock that’s black on the outside and a pale red on the inside. I had to grab a few of them to gift people (and one for myself obvs).

I did make it back to the car, but my knees were really complaining at this point. I took some paracetamol and lamented that I’d really wanted to walk out to Bridlington Priory. Martin said, as it was on the way back to Scarborough, we could just drive and stop there on the way home.

We had glimpsed the Priory on our drive into town, and I knew it was going to be pretty, but seeing it up close was even better. It’s so dramatic and old, with eerie details like empty plinths where statues of saints used to stand (thanks a lot, Henry VIII).

As we walked further into the graveyard, we noticed a man on a ladder doing some work on the priory wall. He was being watched by an older woman who we assumed was part of the priory in some way. She greeted us warmly and let us know that the priory itself was unfortunately closed today, but that we were very welcome to spend time in the grounds. She asked if we’d been there before (we hadn’t), then proceeded to give us a quick history lesson about the place which was really interesting.

Basically, the Priory building you see today is much smaller than it used to be. There used to be a whole campus there, including dormitories, a tower, cloisters, and everyday things like a bakehouse and treasury. You can see a map of what it would have looked like on the Priory’s website. In 1539, everything except the nave (the part you see today) was destroyed because of – you guessed it – Henry VIII and his crusade. They also burned the original shrine of St John, which is just rude. The Priory remained in disrepair until restoration efforts began in the 19^th century. It’s stood ever since, even escaping World War Two with just one blown-out window. Obviously, I’ve condensed the history a lot here as the site was established in the early 12^th century, but there is plenty more to read on the website if you love a bit of history.

The current churchyard the Priory is a really nice idea. They’ve started a ‘living churchyard’ project, in which they let the local grasses and wildflowers grow all over to encourage local flora and fauna to stay in the habitat. This benefits bats, bees, birds and insects of all kinds, and I really liked the look it gave the graveyard. It’s overgrown but not neglected – the grass is mown only twice a year, otherwise it’s left to do what it wants and the effect is beautiful.

My favourite part of the churchyard was the ‘labyrinth’. It was drawn on the floor in tiny narrow gravel paths. At the beginning was a pot of stones – the idea is that you take a stone, which represents a burden you’re carrying or grief for a dead person, and walk with it to the centre of the labyrinth where a blue pot sits. There are lots of ways to get to the middle, and you have to follow your heart rather than taking any specific route. When you reach the centre, you place your stone into the blue pot as an act of putting down a burden, or leaving your deceased loved one in the hands of God. It was a really lovely idea, and I imagine a lot of people get some spiritual calm from doing it.

The whole place has such a nice aesthetic. You know I love a graveyard anyway, but this one was truly unique, natural and so beautiful. If you’re ever up that way, definitely go and have a look for yourself – I imagine it looks totally different with each season. It’s also incredibly peaceful. The site isn’t really isolated from the town, but the churchyard is so quiet and calm, you can’t help but feel relaxed and reflective.

There is also a new shrine for St John of Bridlington, who died of the plague in the 14^th century. He was the last saint to be canonised before Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries. There’s a standing stone with his name on it, as well as a ledger stone made by artist Stephen Carvill, who has the most fitting surname ever. Written on the ledger stone is: O Prior Bridlyngtonie pie, Imitator caste vie, Representa nos messye, which translates to ‘O Holy Prior of Bridlington, follower of a chaste life, pray for us’. We wouldn’t have known about the shrine or where to look for it if it weren’t for our impromptu history lesson earlier, so it was really special.

If you continue walking north from the shrine, you soon come to a large obelisk. The ground around it is free from headstones, as there is a mass grave beneath the monument. It commemorates the victims of the Great Gale of 1871, a huge storm which caused tumultuous seas and claimed 30 ships and at least 50 lives. It was a devastating loss for Bridlington and the towns around it (I spotted ships that came from Scarborough and Whitby, amongst others). 

Every year, the Priory and the Bridlington RNLI hold a remembrance ceremony for those who died and for the heroic rescuers that went to the ships’ aid. We learned from our history lady that the storm was used as evidence by Samuel Plimsoll to demonstrate how overloading ships can make an already dangerous situation into something far more tragic. His campaigning pushed the government into creating regulation for cargo limits using a ‘Plimsoll line’, which is still used on ships to this day.

We spent a long while walking along the lines of gravestones on the northern boundary of the site, reading the epitaphs and admiring the grave decorations and flowers that people had left. I felt peaceful and a little sad there, but I like to pay attention to as many graves as I can out of respect for the dead. I am crashing their resting place, after all.

There is a carved tree at the southwest gate that I loved. The carving is of a ‘lamb of God’, and was created by our pal Stephen Carvill in 2013, to mark the 900-year celebration of the Priory. You can see the Bible quote beneath the lamb in my photo, but you can’t see what’s written above it. It’s that wonderful quote from Saint Augustine of Hippo who said: There is no saint without a past and no sinner without a future.

When we got back, we whipped up a quick Rogan Josh for dinner, and I had a glass of the mead I bought yesterday. It was so delicious, but you have to be sort of careful – it’s a strong drink but it tastes so smooth and sweet from the honey that you could easily drink too much of it. I poured quite a hefty glass before realising the alcohol content, so I’m feeling pleasantly sleepy from it.

I’m having another early night, but it’s not just because I’m tired and in pain. It’s because tomorrow I finally make the Goth pilgrimage to Whitby and I want to be as fresh as possible. I’m so excited!

Yorkshire Day 3: The Castle on the Hill

Today we had an appointment at Scarborough Castle. It’s run by English Heritage, where I volunteered for nearly three years. In normal times, you don’t usually have to make bookings for EH sites. But with covid restrictions and capacity limits, we had to book in advance. Our booking wasn’t until 11am, so we got ready at a leisurely pace and then took a slow stroll toward the castle mount.

Walking through the more residential side of Scarborough was nice. There are so many little indie shops and cafés tucked away here and there – local business is a much bigger thing up in the North, it seems. I wish we had a lot more of this in the South.

As I predicted, we were way too early for our appointment at the castle, so we stopped in the St. Mary’s Church graveyard to find Anne Brontë’s grave. The church was initially established in the 12^th century, but was mostly destroyed during the English Civil War. The building you see there today is from the 17^th century, plus heavy restoration work from the 1800s. It’s half the size it used to be, but you can still some incredibly ancient walls standing where the church used to end. We didn’t go inside, but the exterior and the churchyard itself are really beautiful and old.

What is it about graveyard paving slabs and being insanely slippery when wet? Martin went into the yard first and warned us that the stones were slippery and I walked in flippantly saying that that’s how the graveyard increases its population – mysterious slippery falls. Immediately after saying this, I slipped on the stone and nearly fell. I took the high road and just said, “Ok, ghosts.” before carrying on.

Anne’s grave was quite easy to find, as there were handy signposts showing the way. It was further away from the church than I thought it would be, but that shouldn’t have surprised me considering the age of the place. Her stone was enormous and was probably beautifully ornate when it was first erected. As you can see in the photo, years of weathering from the sea and rain has all but erased the original epitaph. The Brontë society added the new plaque on the floor in 2011 with the initial inscription so you can still read it. The original actually had an error on it – it says that Anne died at 28 (my age!), when in fact she was 29.

The small section of graveyard we were in was exceptionally interesting to look at. Most, if not all, of the stones were black with weathering. St Mary’s sits right up on the castle mount, on a headland that juts into the North Sea, so the erosion is notable. Looking back toward the church offered a picture perfect view.

We had a little stroll in the Royal Albert Park, which is on the hill right next to the castle path. We didn’t go too far because the park slopes all the way down and meets the South Bay; we didn’t fancy walking down and then all the way back up the hill! There were single-person benches that were designed like thrones, which I thought was super cool.

Even after all of that we were still early when we walked up to the gatehouse. Luckily though, we were allowed to go in as the site wasn’t hugely busy. Through the gatehouse was a walled-in stone path that wound its way up the hill toward the hulking silhouette of the keep.

There were lots of signs near the Master Gunner’s house (and some cool cannons) that went through the long history of the castle. The site has been used for a good 3000 years, though the castle itself was built in medieval times. The signs provided information from all the way back in the late Bronze Age, up until German bombardment in the First World War, and I learned a lot. I liked that the signs were there, before you see any of the ruins properly yourself. It gives you a chance to learn a bit about what everything is.

Continuing up and around the keep, we discovered a stone staircase leading up to a modern viewing platform inside. It was really cool to be standing in the ruins and really high up. It was so blowy up there – it was a windy day anyway, and being right up on the headland with no cover made it even more so. I was more than a bit afraid I’d be blown right out of the windows!

When we’d had our fill of the fantastic view, we came back down into the bailey area. Nearby was a well that must have gone all the way to the bottom of the cliff. It was really wide in circumference and apparently 150-feet deep which is horrifying. There was an iron grate over it, but it was still really ominous.

Looking back at the keep from over near the well.

The whole castle site is about 16 acres in size, and includes so much history – it was really fascinating to walk around and read all of the signs scattered around. We found an old chamber room (a toilet), complete with iron grates across a hole above a sheer drop – definitely didn’t want to fall down that toilet! Next to this were some stone walls that marked the old barracks. I imagine this would have been where the servants and soldiers would stay when off-duty. It was also reinforced and used in the First World War, the remains of which you can spot in the form of red brick walls.

Across from that is what remains of the King’s Hall. There are only low walls marking out the shape of a building and interior rooms, so it was fun to try and guess what all of the rooms would have been and how the building probably looked when it was still standing.

The remains of the King’s Hall and the keep in the background.

We took a stroll around the edge of the headland. The North Sea was grey and imposing and the wind howled – it was really atmospheric. There’s a clear space that signifies where the Neolithic site used to stand. All of the artefacts found there are no doubt kept safe in the exhibition at the Master Gunner’s House. It was amazing to stand there and know that people lived and worked here thousands of years ago.

If you follow the headland around, you eventually come to another set of small ruins. They were previously the site of a Roman signal station, as old as the 4^th century. Again, there are theories and diagrams of what it might have looked like, but now it’s just several walls, a well, and some grassy slopes.

Included in the Roman site, is a tiny chapel hewn into a hillock like a Hobbit hole. You can’t go in because of the huge well set in the middle of the floor, so you have to peep through the iron grate in the door. The well is called Our Lady’s Well, which connotes purity and peace, but it looked so creepy in there. I could also see a faint outline of a cross on the back wall. The place was like a dark cave rather than a place of worship. It was so spooky and cool. Nearby in the grass was a large slab which marks a mass grave – people who were entombed in the chapel’s cemetery, but were eventually moved to their new resting place. I remarked that this part of Scarborough Castle was almost a million percent haunted.

Down some narrow steps back near the barracks was a locked door that used to lead to a small tower. Back when the castle was occupied, this little place served as a solitary prison. Open to the elements, it must’ve been a really miserable place to be. The whole site was really interesting. It was cold up there, but so pretty and quiet. The castle is definitely a must-see if you’re visiting Scarborough.

Back in the bailey area, there was a wooden staircase up to a viewing platform that was even higher up than the one in the keep. Martin and I went up there to have a look – again, I was worried I’d be pushed right over the edge by the wind. The view was absolutely worth it though.

There is usually an indoor exhibition at Scarborough Castle but it’s currently closed due to covid. This was a shame as I would have liked to see the archaeology that has been dug up on the site over the years, especially the amazing 3000-year-old sword they found!

Before we left, we took a turn around the gift shop and I got myself a bottle of English Heritage-branded MEAD. I’ve never had it before so I’m really excited to try it out!

We decided to go and look at the old Victorian market halls back towards town centre, as it was only about a ten minute walk away. It’s still operational as a market, which is really nice because a lot of them are becoming defunct these days. First, we went into the vaults beneath the main hall. There are several shops and things down there, and it was much quieter and less busy than upstairs. As we walked through the arched corridor, I saw a guy in a three-piece suit and a newsboy cap and said, “A Peaky Blinder just walked past.” He looked amazing. There was an antique shop that I wanted to look at but there were quite a few people waiting to get in. Covid restrictions limited the shop to two customers at a time because it’s really small, and I didn’t feel like waiting around. I feel at this time I should stop the narrative and assure everyone that we were in masks whenever we went inside anywhere, and only took them off to eat and drink after we were seated.

Speaking of eating, we’d worked up quite an appetite up on the windy castle mount, and decided to stop at a little place in the market vaults. It was called Bakers n Brew, and is a proper little locally-run place that does breakfast, toasted sandwiches, hot drinks, things like that. We all opted for the bacon and Brie toasted sandwich because it sounded great. Mum and Martin had a coffee each, and I spoiled myself with a full-fat Coke. The folk running the place were really chilled out but so on the ball – our freshly toasted sandwiches appeared in no time. They were so good – the Brie was just beginning to melt and was all gooey, and the bacon was almost crispy, but not quite. The bread was a dark, golden brown (the perfect toast). We all went very quiet as we ate because it was a fantastic sandwich.

We had a quick look around main hall, but it was a bit more crowded so we didn’t linger for too long. It was nice to see plenty of people in the market, though. It’s the same sort of local business thing we’ve been seeing here a lot. The market hall in my town has been shut for years, it’s good that some of them still exist.

There’s a big, gorgeous Victorian red-brick building perched up on the hill that I’d spied while walking on the seafront, and today I finally found out what it was. We happened to walk by it on our way down to South Beach, and it’s the old town hall. It really is such a magnificent building. Outside there is a small garden, named St Nicholas Garden, with a statue of Queen Victoria. The statue is Grade-II listed, as it’s actually from the Victorian times, but it has been restored in more recent years so it looks shiny and new. It’s apparently the only statue of a public figure in all of Scarborough.

Another thing in the garden that I liked was a WW1 remembrance bench. Apparently they’ve been springing up everywhere, but this is the first one I’ve seen of this particular design. It has soldier silhouettes and red poppies built into the back of the bench itself and was really pretty and poignant.

Back down on the seafront, we had a look in some of the shops. I couldn’t convince Mum to come into Terror Tower with me. It’s a live-action haunted house sort of thing, and she was adamant that she’d die if someone suddenly jumped out at her. I’m gutted because I think it would have been fun (and hilarious).

One of the shops was called Ancient Warrior, and it was really cool. It had loads of ‘fandom’ merchandise, swords and weapons/cosplay props, gothic statues and decorations, things like that. I had a good look around there, even though it was quite busy. A guy was pointing out a Dumbledore-style goblet to his girlfriend and said, “It’s ninety quid.” Before I could stop it, my great big mouth chimed in with, “FUCK that.” and we all had a little communal laugh. You know how I love stranger moments.

By this time, we’d been walking up and down hills and around town all day (minus a short stop in Bakers n Brew). My knees were in agony and we ducked into the nearest pub for a drink and a sit down, so I could take some painkillers and actually make it back to the flat. It was called Newcastle Packet, and felt very local. There were many fantastic Yorkshire accents. I had some Old Mout Cider and we took our time with our drinks so my paracetamol could kick in.

When I’d gathered some more strength, we went up to the town centre and stopped for dinner in a pub called The Lord Rosebery. I decided to try Whitby scampi – I’ve never had scampi, let alone a Whitby variety of scampi. It was really delicious and I picked a small portion of it with chips, so I was pleased with myself for not overeating as I often do while on holiday. I want to say that The Lord Rosebery did really well with their covid precautions – everyone who came through the door was required to fill out a form with their information and sanitise their hands. There were plenty of accessible hand sanitising stations and the staff were just brilliant. I was really impressed – I’ve noticed a lot of people around here have been really lackadaisical about the social distancing and mask measures, so it was refreshing to feel like I was in a place that took it seriously.

This is the spa bridge, which is near (and very similar to) the Valley Bridge.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the apartment from the Lord Rosebery. I was glad of this because my legs are really hurting again, and I’m probably going to have another really early night. I’ve been reading Strange Weather by Joe Hill and it’s really good, so I’ll probably read more of that before getting to sleep.