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Published: October 4th 2020
Dear All
In my last blog entry, I was just about to leave Newcastle, after four full days of wonderful explorations around there. I was bound on the Wednesday morning for my next destination: the North York Moors National Park. I was excited.
I planned to do my journey there in two stages, to be able to stop off in Middlesbrough along the way, and explore this little known northern industrial city for a couple of hours, before taking another train deep into the North York Moors on the horizon. My first train thus took me from Newcastle 40 miles to the south-east to the city of Middlesbrough. I was hoping upon arrival at the train station to find a left-luggage facility somewhere, to not only leave my backpack which was getting heavier with souvenirs, but also my newly-bought Saxon sword replica, and its rather unwieldy cardboard box. The lady in the information office looked at me surprised though, as if she had never been asked that question before, and stated that there hadn’t been anything like that in the station for years. I quickly gathered that tourists in the town were few and far between…!
This for
me was in fact perfect, as I believe I mentioned, I love exploring under-visited places, and Middlesbrough seemed certainly this. Middlesbrough is a fairly sizeable city of 140,000 inhabitants, though if one includes its neighbours Stockton-on-Tees, Hartlepool and Redcar amongst others, the metropolitan area contains nearly 400,000 people. Middlesbrough, like Newcastle, is the centre of its own metropolitan county area – whilst Newcastle’s is often known as Tyneside, or Tyne and Wear, Middlesbrough’s often goes by the name of Teesside, or Cleveland. Together they are the base of the local independent television channel of Tyne Tees, which made an impression in my childhood memory for some reason. It was certainly a place I had heard much about, so I was eager to explore.
A quick Google search prior to my arrival revealed that along with Newcastle and Sunderland, Middlesbrough is also another north-eastern city famous mostly for its football team and stadium, so a visit to the Riverside Stadium for me was a must. It is also famous for its quite spectacular, and very unusual, Transporter Bridge, crossing the River Tees. I was quickly learning that cities of the north-east are famous for river bridges and football stadiums. I
Robin Hood's Bay
North York Moors National Parkthus planned my two-hour walk through the city to include both these places of interest, starting with heading 500 metres north out of the train station towards the River Tees.
My first stop was the Transporter Bridge, although unlike the Tyne Bridge in Newcastle, and the Wearmouth Bridge in Sunderland, it didn’t carry a road or a rail track, but was rather like a cable car which was pulleyed between two tall towers on either side of the river. It was most unusual, and I often wondered why they simply didn’t build a road or rail bridge instead… The Transporter Bridge is the city’s icon, appearing on city logos throughout town, and was built in 1911. The cable car carries both vehicles and pedestrians, but during my visit it was for some reason closed due to the c-word situation. Its visitors centre, which looked interesting, was also closed, but there was a nice little viewing area just underneath the south-side tower, for really great views of this amazing structure. It was apparently a really welcome construction in its day, as before this, workers commuting to Middlesbrough’s important industrial centre from the north bank of the Tees had to make
Hart Hall Farm
Glaisdale, North York Moors National Park do with irregular ferry crossings, in which fights often broke out to gain the last seats, as workers’ wages were docked if they arrived late. A fellow who took my photo there also told me of how his father used to travel with his grandfather across the bridge on their way to the football at the nearby Riverside Stadium. I could imagine the excitement that they would both have felt on their way to the spectacular stadium in the distance, though probably a little more humble back in the days before Premier League mega-bucks. Growing up in an industrial city myself, I felt the warm spirit of the area’s industrial past, walking through the now-derelict and crumbling factory and wasteland area.
As with other post-industrial English cities, I felt the potential for new urban redevelopment in the area, with visions of stunning river- and dock-side flats, cobbled streets filled with gentrified pubs and cafes, and lovely open areas with great city-wide and riverside views. However, this all felt very much a vision for the time being, as most of the area was still filled with either ruined industrial remains or weed-filled open spaces.
My walk from the Transporter
Milking the Cows
Hart Hall Farm, Glaisdale Bridge then took me on to the Riverside Stadium, for great views and pictures across the nearby Middlehaven Dock, and then back again into the city centre, to stop off for food supplies at Tesco before heading for my train which would take me on to my final destination for the day – the North York Moors National Park!
I enjoyed my brief time in Middlesbrough, despite having to carry my luggage with me, but the dark and brooding hills away to the south-east of the city, making for quite a dramatic urban backdrop, were certainly beckoning. When I was planning this trip, I aimed to spend a few nights in this part of the north-east, and potentially looked at places to stay in Whitby, a famous North Yorkshire seaside town. I didn’t find much within my budget to be honest, and what I did find, there seemed to be a number of single rooms with shower cubicles actually in the bedroom itself – not my cup of tea! Whitby is indeed more of a well-to-do seaside resort, rather more spiffing than other northern resorts such as Skegness or Blackpool. I ended up, after quite a thorough internet search
in fact, booking three nights at a farmhouse BnB slap bang in the middle of the national park – the hugely characterful and very economical Hart Hall BnB. The farm was situated around a mile’s walk, mostly uphill, from Glaisdale train station, on the four-times a day train route running from Middlesbrough to Whitby. It was remote, very peaceful, and just what I was looking for.
The train ride through the North York Moors National Park was beautiful, and flat industrial urbanism soon made way for rolling sheep-filled hills and dramatic forested valleys. Just like with the Northumberland National Park, it was also my first visit to the North York Moors National Park. It felt wonderful to once again be exploring somewhere new, in this country where I have lived for over 40 years now. Having travelled the world, England constantly continues to throw up lovely little surprises. This was one of them.
I was the only passenger to alight at Glaisdale train station, backpack, sword, and a bag of food from Tesco, in hand. I quickly gathered my bearings, walked past the village pub, the Arncliffe Arms, and headed up the very steep Carr Lane towards the
village church, St Thomas’s, jutting out of the trees a mile away in the distance. At the top of the hill, I turned left and into Glaisdale Dale (surely it should have been just Glais Dale…?), and walked past two very old oak trees in the middle of a field grazed by sheep and cows to my left. This field belonged to the farmhouse where I was headed, and I later learned that these twin trees were called Adam and Eve, and are believed to be around 2000 years old! Wow! A left turn at the end of the field took me over a cattle grid, and down towards the Hart Hall farmhouse a few hundred metres further on. It was lovely to find out this was truly a working farm, my nostrils filling with the “fresh” smell of “country air”, and after a short wait, the family’s son, a gentleman in his twenties, greeted me and showed me to my cottage.
Indeed, I wasn’t just checking into a room for the night, I checked into a genuine three-bedroom, country farmhouse cottage, built in 1684 no less. It was a real bargain. Nextdoor, the farmer family lived in a
more modern cottage, whilst adjoining mine to the other side was a dusty old barn. It was just me, a farmer family, and just cows and sheep for miles around – wow!
As well as my sightseeing from my farmhouse base, my stay there, with the Welford family – Dave, Elaine, and their son Jim - was a whole experience in itself. I had never stayed on a farm before. The cottage was cute and homely, though also quite spooky if I’m honest. I chose a bedroom adjoining the more modern farmhouse next door, rather than the one adjoining the barn, as this had quite a spooky feeling to my sensitive nature. It took me a while to fall asleep that night if I’m honest, and although I slept really well in fact, I still felt I slept with one eye open all night. The second two nights were much better, after having gotten used to the eery silence, and were two of my best night’s sleep on my trip.
After resting up a bit that afternoon, there was just enough time before dinner to do a short walk around nearby Glaisdale village, perched on the top of
a hill overlooking the train line and Esk River valley below, before it started raining and I headed back to the farmhouse for my spooky first night there.
The following morning I awoke to a delicious full cooked English breakfast made by the farmer’s wife, Elaine, before I packed my day bag and headed back to the village to take the local bus number 95 to Whitby, my destination for my first day in the North York Moors.
I was looking forward to Whitby. Although I’ve been to many-a northern English seaside resort, I had never before been to Whitby. The town is famous for both its spectacularly sited abbey, dramatically overlooking the town below, the moors to the west, and the North Sea to the east. It is also famous for being the main location for much of Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula. Many who haven’t read the book would assume it is set in Transylvania, but in fact after reading it myself, I found that only the first four chapters are located there. Dracula soon ends up in Whitby, England, after the Russian ship he travels on, the Demeter, runs aground there. He continues his wicked ways
City Centre
Middlesbrough terrorising the people of Whitby, with the gothic abbey and architecture of the town forming much of the novel’s texture. I was indeed looking forward to seeing Whitby.
The bus journey into town took about an hour, and only seemed to barely make it up the steep hills of the national park, before depositing its passengers in the very busy bus station in town. Indeed, busy-ness came to make up much of my time in Whitby, the place was absolutely heaving! It seemed like every tourist from the north of England had descended upon the town, crowding into its tiny cobbled streets, packing onto its harbour cruises, and enjoying ice-cream and fish and chips all the way. The atmosphere was pleasant, and I was happy to see so many people enjoying themselves out in the sunny open air, particularly after such an unpleasant and depressing lockdown experience for most of us. I didn’t find the people too overly friendly though, and I guess the more people are packed into an area, the more other people get on their nerves, and the more fixated they become on what they are doing, without paying much attention to people around them. I
was extremely glad that I had chosen to stay in a moorland farmhouse rather than in this tourist hotspot, and no matter how busy the day would be, I would always be looking forward to the peace and quiet once more of my country cottage bedroom for the night.
After getting off the bus, I headed along the harbourside path and over Whitby Bridge, crossing the River Esk just before it empties out into the North Sea. I was heading first towards the town’s famous 199 Steps, which head from the harbour high up onto the dramatic land bluff overlooking the area for miles around. The steps take you up to the 12
th century Church of St Mary, with its dramatically situated cemetery and gravestones, referenced in Dracula, and on to the amazing Whitby Abbey. As with Housesteads Roman Fort, I had pre-booked my ticket to the abbey online, and came once more to appreciate one of the benefits of travelling in these times – having popular tourist attractions such as this almost entirely to oneself! Entering the abbey grounds, I left the tourist hubbub behind, and really enjoyed a very peaceful wander around the spectacularly-sited ruins. Whitby Abbey
Riverside Stadium
Home to Middlesbrough Football Club was originally built in the 7
th century, and is particularly famous for being the location of the 664 AD Synod of Whitby, during which the ancient English kingdom of Northumberland came to agree to align the date of Easter with the Roman Christian tradition rather than the Celtic one. St Hilda of Whitby was appointed abbess of the abbey by King Oswy of Northumbria in 657 AD, and it became a centre of Christian evangelisation throughout Anglo-Saxon England. It later became a Benedictine monastery, before it was confiscated by Henry VIII during his dissolution of the monasteries in the 16
th century.
I really enjoyed my peaceful walk around the abbey, and felt that its ruins seemed surely more attractive than the intact building would have been. There was something starkly beautiful about the half-ruined, pointed, gothic architecture standing tall on such a high headland, with the darkness of the North York Moors to the west, and the equal darkness of the North Sea to the east. No wonder it came to serve as the location for Stoker’s dark novel, the whole area had a foreboding yet very attractive nature to it.
After walking back down the 199 Steps,
and back again through the tourist melee of Whitby’s streets once more, I felt certain that my next destination for the day would be no different in terms of crowdedness. I wasn’t wrong, although I was still glad to have visited.
I was heading back to the bus station to take another bus onwards to nearby Robin Hood’s Bay, quite rightly to my mind dubbed one of England’s most beautiful bays, six miles south-eastwards along the North Yorkshire coast. The bus was busy, and the town itself was also packed. Still, I enjoyed walking down the very steep road from the bus stop to the beach, along the winding alleyways and staircases. Robin Hood’s Bay is not only a dramatic sweeping bay with high headlands, and a vast beach revealed at low tide, its many nooks, crannies and caves were also famous for hiding pirates, smugglers and other ne’er-do-wells during the late 18
th century. Apparently, tea, gin, rum, brandy and tobacco were all among the contraband smuggled into Yorkshire from the Netherlands and France, to avoid customs duty. The only visitors around that day though were more hordes of tourists, with ice-creams, fish and chips, buckets and spades in-hand.
City Centre
Middlesbrough I walked down the hill to the bay, and then back up again, to catch the bus back to Whitby a mere half-an-hour later. If the town were quieter I would have enjoyed getting a feel for its history and atmosphere, but it wasn’t, and I was happy to be on the next bus again back to Whitby.
Back in town, I did another shop at a nearby supermarket for my food for the next two days, before boarding the 95 bus again once more away from tourism central, back into the peace and serenity of the North York Moors National Park, and my lovely farmhouse BnB, even more grateful than the day before for having chosen such a secluded spot to rest up in.
That night I slept very soundly, after having gotten used to the silence and spookiness, and was looking forward to the next day, in which I had planned explorations of the national park itself.
On the Friday morning I awoke really quite refreshed, and enjoyed another farmhouse cooked breakfast. The previous day was very sunny, which made a very welcome change after some very wet weather in Northumbria. This day was set
City Centre
Middlesbrough to be cloudier with patchy rain, but most significantly, it was going to be very windy, with Storm Ellen sweeping across the country, bringing winds of up to 65mph on coastal areas and high ground. The North York Moors certainly has its share of coastal areas and high ground, but fortunately the walk that I had planned that day was to take me along the Esk River Valley, from Glaisdale to Grosmont via Egton Bridge, and it barely blew even a breeze down there.
The walk was around five miles in length, and actually forms part of British fellwalker Alfred Wainwright’s internationally famous “Coast to Coast” walk, following the 192-mile route planned by the author in the 1970s. The walk links St Bees on the Irish Sea on Britain’s west coast, to Robin Hood’s Bay on the North Sea on the east coast. There was not a chance I’d be taking the 192-mile walk myself, given my interest in merely leisurely, generally flat, walks, so this five-mile option was just perfect for me. Whilst I had the route mostly to myself, every once in a while a walker or two with big backpacks and walking poles would pass me
by about twice the speed, evidently doing the “Coast to Coast”. Good for them, and I can see the interest in doing such a journey, but I was far more content with my leisurely pace, enjoying the birdsong, trees and trickling water as I went. As many a wise man has once said, it is not the destination in life that counts, but the journey. I enjoyed mine very much on that day.
My walk began back at Glaisdale train station, downhill from my farmhouse BnB, and on the banks of the River Esk, running a mere 28 miles from its source in Westerdale to the west, high up in the moors, through the national park, before it empties out into the North Sea at Whitby. I began at Beggar’s Bridge, built in 1619 by local pauper Thomas Ferris, following an interesting romantic escapade. Thomas had fallen in love with the daughter of a wealthy local squire, though their rendezvouses were regularly disrupted by the problem of having to cross the River Esk at this point. He vowed to win her hand, and was able to, after having set sail from Whitby and made his fortune at sea, eventually
returning a rich man and marrying his beloved. He then had Beggar’s Bridge built there, to ensure that no other lovers would be separated as they once were. The bridge was very attractive, and is an iconic feature of the Esk River valley. My walk took me over the bridge, high up into a steep wooded verge above the valley below, and then down a country lane into the nearby village of Egton Bridge. Here, the path headed over two sets of stepping stones, to cross the river and head into the village, and then proceeded down a toll road passing the Barnards Road toll cottage, where there was still a sign dating back to 1948 indicating the prices of passage for various vehicles: four pennies for a one-horse cart with two wheels, rising to a shilling for a three-horse cart with four wheels. A tractor’s passage cost a shilling, whilst a hearse (!) cost six-pence, or half-a-shilling. I found the sign fascinating, reminiscent of a more wholesome, bygone era. My walk continued on past a small country road which forded the river, where I stopped to take a picture of the next car crossing the ford, spray and all.
I then reached the end of my walk, entering the popular tourist town of Grosmont.
A number of people had recommended that from here I make it to nearby Goathland, real-life location of the fictitious village of Aidensfield in the popular 1990s British TV programme Heartbeat, starring Nick Berry, but the journey there and back would have been an eight-mile round trip for me, which would have been a little too much for my liking. Instead, I quickly found out that Grosmont is a very popular tourist attraction for steam rail enthusiasts, with quirky local model railway shops to boot. The North Yorkshire Moors Railway, heritage steam rail route, also passes through the town, on its journey from Pickering to Whitby and back, and my visit coincided with two passings of the steam trains. I had never seen a steam engine and train so close before, so it was really exciting to see the first train passing through Grosmont station itself, and the second train rounding a corner further up the track, where I had positioned myself and waited patiently in the rain for nearly an hour before being able to video the train passing by, and posting this
later onto my Facebook page. I also got talking to some really nice people there, the first being a gentleman at the train station telling me the time and location of the train which I was to later video, and the second being a local artist-in-residence at a nearby café. There was also a fantastic second hand bookshop in the village, and the afore-mentioned model railway shops, to enjoy spending time in. I had two hours in Grosmont to pass, before the next bus was due to take me back again to Glaisdale where I had begun my walk earlier that day. I enjoyed my time in the village very much.
After returning to Glaisdale by bus, and resting up a bit back in the farmhouse with a cup of tea, I prepared myself to meet with Dave, the farmer, at 5pm, for his twice-daily milking session.
Wow! What an experience! I am a very very big fan of milk, and drink lots of it each day, but this was the first time I was able to get up close and personal with the whole milking process. It was just brilliant! It started with the farmer’s son, Jim,
Adam and Eve Trees
Hart Hall Farm, Glaisdale rounding up the 80-or-so cows by tractor in a nearby field, and leading them into the milking hut. It was really quite funny to see all the cows so eager to get into the hut, and form a very nice, orderly queue as they one-by-one entered patiently into the mechanical milking area. Dave quickly hooked their udders up with some sucking equipment, whilst the cows were given some food in a metal bowl to keep them occupied. Around 20 litres later, the cows were then led back again to the outside of the hut, where they all waited patiently for the rest of them to be milked, and then were led once more again back to the field. It was really lovely to see, although I can imagine that doing it twice a day for years and years, the wonder of the process probably begins to wear off. Dave then took me through one of his fields, where there was a bull and several pregnant cows, who approached us and danced around a bit, apparently being quite playful with Dave. I was more than happy he was with me, as I really don’t like being in fields with cows, let
alone bulls. He showed me his wheat field, before we headed back to the farm house, and no doubt as with many other guests who are shown the milking of the cows during their stay there, I ended up buying Dave’s book on the life of the farmer, called “Forty Shades of Green”. I’ve since had a quick glance through this book, and it does look very interesting – I was happy to have bought it, and Dave, his wife Elaine, and their son Jim, were all wonderful people. I was made to feel very welcome in their attached cottage.
Alas, the time had come where the next morning, I was to pack my backpack once more, sword in hand, to head on to my next and final destination on my north-east England adventure this summer. I had really enjoyed my time in the North York Moors National Park, and was eager to begin further explorations once more the next morning. I will write about my final few days on my summer journey 2020 in my next one.
Until then, thank you very much for reading, and all the best 😊
Alex
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Ake Och Emma
Ake Dahllof and Emma Holmbro
I really love reading your blogs from northern England
I love England and now that it doesn't seem like I'll be going there any time soon it is really great to read about the places you went to. Thanks for writing about it. There are some really interesting places you've been to. Like you I also enjoy going to places that don't see many visitors. That makies your blogs especially intersting as they take me to places I know little of and never read about elsewhere. /Ake