Drama on the coast

In September, we escaped from canal life for a few days and headed off in Hollie (our motorhome) across the Peak District to the North East Coast of England. Ian’s family are originally from Yorkshire, so they used to drive this route every Christmas. Thankfully the roads are much improved, and we did avoid the winter snow drifts on the moors around Snake Pass. It’s obviously been a while since Ian came this way, so he did make a few comments like “Where did that roundabout come from!”

Our first adventure was to the RSPB Nature Reserve at Bempton Cliffs. Unfortunately, I’d failed miserably to do my research, and the puffins that I’d hoped to see had already left for the Bay of Biscay in July! Luckily for me, the gannets and the fulmars were still there, clinging to the steep rocky outcrops. I found the smell of the nesting gannets quite overpowering- strangely, Ian wasn’t really bothered by it.

Travelling up the coastline, we made it to Robin Hood’s Bay. I’ve wanted to go there ever since I missed out on an “arty farty” school trip back in the early 80’s! The place does have a reputation as an artist’s paradise. It certainly has a lovely olde worlde atmosphere and is steeped in myths and legends. The old town or Lower Bay clings to a steep valley with a single winding road that cuts through a maze of steps and passageways between meandering rows of cottages. The cobbled road ends at the town slipway beside a curious tunnel that is reputed to be part of an old smugglers’ route.

After wandering along the South Beach we took notice of the warning signs that we’d seen on the seafront, warning people to leave the beaches at least 2 ½ hours before high tide, and grabbed a warming cup of coffee at the quayside café.  Standing by the railings, we had an excellent vantage point to see the waves crash in below us and watch people retreat from the shrinking beaches.

It was then that we noticed several people were staying on the beach and not making any moves to leave it. We just assumed this was normal and joked that it must be a daily event, that there must be alternative footpaths that we hadn’t seen. By now the tide was lapping around the base of the quay and people were wading on to the slipway. Suddenly there was a bit of a commotion, and we were quite shocked to hear that the café owner had called for the coastguard as they had recognised that the people on the beach were now stranded.

Three HM Coastguard teams attended and were there within minutes. Over the next hour and a half we stood and watched them safely recover fifteen people and two dogs. We also learnt that this was an extremely rare event, the couple beside us had been coming to The Bay for thirty years and had never seen this happen before! And there was me thinking that the Coastguard teams had been waiting for high tide in a local café! How wrong we were, and the rescue even made the evening news ( I should have sent my pictures!).

More excitement followed the next day as the Upper Bay road was closed for the Tour of Britain Cycle race to pass though the town and head up the hill past our campsite. How they didn’t crash into each other I will never know, but it was all quite exciting, at least for the few seconds that it took them to zoom past!

Our final destination was Whitby, the main fishing port for this area. It’s a stunning place to walk around, packed with history, and with the famous 199 steps that lead from the Abbey down to Church Street, a cobbled road, lined with Whitby Jet Jewellery shops.

We had camped just outside the town near to Saltwick Bay, famed for its shipwrecks, fossils and black jet. I’d spent the previous day beachcombing and had found a few belemnites, an ammonite and a big piece of jet. Black jet is a semi-precious stone and is believed to help you cope with grief. When Prince Albert died in 1861, Queen Victoria wore jewellery made from Whitby jet until she died in 1901. This started a fashion that still continues today. So I decided to try and sell my lucky find to one of the jewellers, only to be told it was just a piece of slate.

Never mind, it was fun finding the shipwrecks and the fossils. Time to head home for more adventures along the Macclesfield canal.