Day 5 of UK & Avalon Trip

 York to Whitby

 Awoke to a fresh day.  Up out of bed and downstairs to the dining room.  The Best Western Dean Court offers a complimentary full hot breakfast with your night’s stay.  With the dining room situated on the corner of the building, full glass windows and a spectacular view of York Minster across the street to go with your breakfast.  Pete had the traditional kippers (smoked herring).  That Brit was in heaven, however he did complain a little that the taste stayed with him all day.  I’m sure that problem was his and not the food.  I had no problems with a delicious offering of Eggs Benedict prepared perfectly.  We made our game plan for the day to visit the Old City, Christmas markets and just take the day as it comes.  So we bundled up in multiple layers as it was in the 40’s and a chill in the air.  We didn’t care, neither one of us had been to York before and found it enchanting.  The old city wall, history, it’s a step back in time.

For our first stop of this busy day, we opted to visit the Clifford’s Tower.  It is the largest remaining section of the York Castle.  The bare top, once made of timber, burned down in 1190.  History claims that Romans once occupied this area.  But it was the Normans, and William the Conqueror who first built a castle here, atop this mound in around 1068.  We stood at the base of this English Heritage site, with active imaginations in overdrive.  That fact that it is still here, not demolished, but grand in it’s loneliness, a sentry to the old, surrounded by the 15th century to present day construction.  Sad really to see to the remnants on the hill, surrounded by roads on all sides with zippy cars ignoring the importance of English Heritage.

After taking in the amazing view of olde, we fancied (Pete’s phrase) a cup of coffee.  So remarkably there happened to be a café across the way from the Tower.  So carefully, looking both ways, as all visitors, especially from left-hand drive countries should do when traveling, over we went.  After ordering a creamy Café Latte’ I asked the proprietor if there was a bathroom, or Toilet as called here.  Yes of course, take this key she says, and hands me a huge key attached to a large piece of wood, reminiscent of the US gas station key attached to a hub cap, as says “go out the front door, to the corner, turn right, then turn into the gate, through the garden, to the shed and it’s just there”.  I looked at Pete with deer eyes, smiled and thought OK.  Off I went, out the door, past the street construction crew, feeling very self-conscious carrying my wooden object with key attached, but I followed the instructions to the T and low and behold, found the toilet. 

The door reminded me of a secret hid out entrance, short, plain white wood and a little offish (another Pete ism).  This place was so off the beaten path, tucked away and felt a little too remote and creepy.  Because in America, if directed to a place like this, I would have thought, nope I don’t have to go, really I can hold it.  Not that it wasn’t spotless and provided all that was necessary, it’s just that our modern day cautious minds would tell us don’t go there.  It’s a perfect place for a mugging or whatever.  But we are in England, it’s broad day light and it’s normal here, or not uncommon.  Once inside the space was a tiny as it looked like it was going to be from the outside.  Too funny, but you gotta go, you gotta go.

After my journey to the remote wildness of toilets, I made it back to the Latte’ and Pete.  Pete now sitting there with a funny grin on his face.  Thinking automatically that I didn’t put myself back together properly from the loo, I said “What’s wrong”.  He said, two words, “Bacon Bap”.  We didn’t have breakfast all the long ago, a few hours, but a Bacon Bap is a must.  It’s a local English sandwich on a roll with warm English bacon.  To die for!  I love English bacon.  It’s a cross between US bacon and Canadian bacon.  Very flavorful and less fatty than the US relative.  So we split one, thinking we aren’t being too bad that way, delicious! 

Pete decided next stop was for some pennies.  His way of saying let’s get some cash.  So we found an ATM, which of course would not accept his card, since it was not a newer version with the universally excepted chip.  So inside he went to the bank teller.  I stayed outside to enjoy the atmosphere and determine in which direction we would venture off first.  A Quick trip to the tropics “hot-flash” kept me from venturing anywhere with heat.  Always fabulous getting warm and dewy and then get cold.

You’ve got to laugh at me and my hot flashes and Pete tasting kippers all day.  Good start.

As I’m returning to a normal temp, my initial interest of my surroundings was drawn to an old church, St. Martins, it appeared to be in the process of being absorbed by the surrounding buildings.  

This I read is due to destruction it suffered in 1942 during WWII.  It was neatly rebuilt sharing it’s outer walls with modern shops.  Old city property at a premium!   The streets, sidewalks and curbs all a mixture of bricks, payment and stones from different eras and in different patterns.  Makes walking a spectator sport and a vision of artist design. 

After what seemed like a 30 minutes or more, I went into the bank, risking another thermostat spike, and found Pete at a teller window.  I had to laugh as he was looking caged and frustrated to be so delayed for a simple cash withdrawal exchange.  As he leaves the window, eyes rolling back in his head, he explains that they were not going to allow a cash withdrawal since he did not have an account with them.  Asking would he like to open one, he impressed upon the teller how ridiculous that would be since he is only in the country for another 5 days.  Calm heads prevailed and the transaction, with a manager’s approval was completed.  Cash in hand out we go.  Geesh!

We decided to embark on a Christmas Market adventure.  Pete and I had not been to any previously and this trip was going to be an immersion into that arena.  York, as we were told by the staff at Dean Court, has a central market called St. Nicholas Market and then several Christmas Fairs all around the city in various squares and parks.  The first stop was to a Christmas Fair that we caught a glimpse of the night before as we were searching for a restaurant was in the Old Shambles market area.  We were disappointed last night after stumbling on it during closing time.  The market has somewhere in the neighborhood of 80 stalls/vendors, and butts up against the old, 15th century timbered buildings.  A market has been in York since the 8th-11th century.  Can’t wrap my head around that.  It’s certainly not a sight often experienced by these Yanks.  With so many vendors here and all over the city we knew we had a problem.  A luggage one.  With us packing so light, one small suitcase each for a 16 day trip, we did not have any space for all the unique, interesting, hand-made and sweet things we saw in abundance.  So the first item on the shopping list……a carry-on bag to transport all our Christmas Market items and gifts.  We found a great deal on a tapestry bag with wheels and a handle.  A must for the shopping ahead.

Next stop we headed to the St Nicholas Market.  On the way Pete stops this old VW bus, and asks me if I ever had a mulled wine.  Never in the UK!  Oh boy, you got to try one.  With the chill in the air, I was Game!  It was hot, yummy with red wine, spices and fruit.  Just what the first Christmas Market day called for.  What a pleasure it was to stroll the streets, looking at all the shops, stalls, people and treats available in every direction.

We picked up several artist prints, our favorite thing to buy on our travels these days.  Ready to frame, hang up and to bring back all the memories of treasured travel adventures.  Also picked up a few gifts for our grand-daughter and family. 

After all the walking, shopping, Pork Pie for Pete (yuk, another English standard, I passed on) and too much sensory overload, we spotted a little sign pointing down a short narrow alleyway to a pub. 

That’s what we need, a sit, and a nibble.  We were so delighted with this new find, The Ye Olde Starr Inne. 

Established in 1644, it is a pub (bar and restaurant) serving as a much needed rest stop for us.

As we had agreed, whenever possible on our trip we would only eat local fare.  So this stop included fish fingers and a mushroom pie.  Pete got a pint and me the usual red pinot noir.

 As in most pubs you go to the bar or counter, place your order, carry your drinks back and the server brings out your food.  The place was full of locals and tourists all enjoying a rest and a chat.

After an enjoyable rest, we mapped out our plan for the rest of the day.  Go back to the hotel, grab our bags and car from the valet and get on the road.  As much as we would have loved to stay longer we had reservations that evening at a bed & breakfast inn in Whitby.

On the road again, as Willie Nelson song states.  Again we decided to take a slight detour on the way to Scarbourgh, approximately 1 hour from York to Scarbourgh on A170.  Pete had never been there, neither had I, so we thought why not.  Pete says it’s an old sea-side resort town and wanted to see it.  We got there around 3 in the afternoon.  It was on the sea side, but the resort was more arcades and cheesy gift shops, at least that’s what we saw along the High Street (main street) running along the harbor.  The town was congested and appeared as if perhaps it’s hay day was behind it.  However we thought it was marvelous, again wished we could have stayed, but needing to be going, we only had time for a pit stop.  We parked and a beautiful restaurant overlooking the wharf and had another latte. 

Back on the road A171 to Whitby approximately 1 hour away.  The drive took us through winding, rolling roads through the eastern side of North York Moors National Park.  We found it was quite beautiful with its barren but rolling Heather filled landscape.  If you were to draw a line east to west in this part of England it would measure approximately 120 miles.  This entire region is covered with Parks, Forests and Moors.  With terrain such as it is, you can just imagine the hardy souls that were required to eek out an existence here.  Beautiful, lonely, majestic, remote and tough.

With darkness settling in early here it really throws our body clock off.  We had hoped to arrive before dark, but didn't make it.  Had to ask for directions to find our B&B The Woodsman of Whitby B & B, since street signs aren't usually visible.  For instance the side of the street that the  Woodsman sits on is called one name and the houses on the opposite side of street use a different street name.  How is one to guess figure that out I wonder?  

But we made it and the place was fantastic.  The owners, both British from Sheffield and both retired teachers with two dogs, a boxer and a bulldog.  All where very welcoming.  We got settled in and then bundled up to take a walk out to get a bite to eat.  Since the house was on top of the bluff, above the main town, we walked gingerly down steep and curvy streets to get to the main waterfront, or high street as its called.  We were like little peepers peering into windows of restaurants until we found the winning one, called The Marina.  

Dinner was fabulous fish and chips for Pete and Grilled cod for me, both local favorites.  As we left the restaurant it was drizzling and windy.  Let's just say the uphill climb was a whole lot tougher for us two weary travelers then on the way down.  Well at least we worked off dinner and the earlier latte’s.  We made it back a little wet but were greeted with a warm fire in the living room.  The owners Romany and Alan poured generous glasses of wine and we chatted away for hours.  We hit it off with them, they are kind souls with a sense of fun and a passion for history.  Before bed they then asked us to check off what we wanted for breakfast and the time we wanted it to be served, which we did and then off to bed we went.

Our room was a beautiful room, newly remodeled and perfectly appointed.  We got into bed quickly and off to sleep for a much needed rest after a long and very busy day.

Night Night, sweet Whitby.