We've talked about going to Whitby for a while, probably since we started taking notice of things like the Whitby Goth Festival (and certainly since we watched the '
Whitby Gothic Style' video on YouTube). But it's a fair trek (about 175 miles each way) from us and as it takes about 3.1/4 - 3.1/2 hours to get there we elected to get up at 5:30AM so that we could leave the house at 6:15AM. In the end we didn't leave until about 6:30AM, and after a torturous last half an hour stuck behind a lorry through the moors we finally arrived at the Abbey car park just before 10AM.
We'd actually already tried to park in the centre but the car park we found was already full and so we decided to just park at the top of the cliff and leave it there since either way we were going to have to walk up and down the 199 steps.
The Abbey was a few minutes late opening but thankfully the toilets were open (40 pence a go!) and then once we'd negotiated with the woman on the till over the usual 'membership' nonsense (when did Gift Aid start costing
you more? I thought it was supposed to mean
they got the tax back!!!!) we parted with somewhere north of £15 to look round a ruin for ten minutes before we headed to the (not very exciting) museum and visitors centre. Let's just say the 'museum' and the gift shop had equal floor space, and what a lot of tat the gift shop was selling. Dracula this and Dracula that was to be expected and fair enough, but beyond that...
It was bloody windy at the top of that cliff, and of course it started to rain after about five minutes on the site. Seemed appropriate somehow, it would have been disappointing to visit it in glaring sunshine... but it didn't half make our ears hurt!
Confronted with a ruined Gothic Abbey, I regressed to my teenage years and went full on Cronos for a short time... actually, I look more like a retarded Bono. Perhaps a bullet belt would have helped the authenticity of the pose?
After we'd looked around we went back to the car and had our pack up (it was 11AM and we'd been up since 5:30AM after all).
Whatever, we headed down the 199 steps to 'tourist' enclave... and immediately came across the 'acclaimed' chocolatier, which looked a bit rubbish to be honest. Everywhere there were shops selling 'authentic' Whitby Jet (as if someone was faking it?), which is fossilised wood apparently. We found a Ramsdens and noticed an unworn 2019 Monaco Gulf in the window at a bargain price of £3975 (about £1000 off list) and then headed towards the smaller beach on the Eastern side of the water.
Ideally we would have gone on a boat trip, but it was cold and windy and the boat was open. Also, as the day wore on the sea got rougher and rougher and there was no way either of us was risking it. Especially as that pleasure boat was heading out into the open water! No thank you very much.
We crossed the bridge to the busier side of Whitby and headed towards the 'pier' sort of thing, which was under refurbishment but still accessible. We eschewed the chance to climb the lighthouse steps (£1.50) and instead braved the rain, sea spray and cold to establish beyond doubt that the sea was too rough for boating then turned round and came back into the town.
Thereafter we pottered about like a pair of pensioners, consulting our (excellent) map every five minutes and cursing the lack of street signs, before stumbling upon 'Love Shoes' which Rose had wanted to visit. We carried on up that road before eventually taking a right and finding the Goth Superstore (it wasn't actually called that, but that's what it was...). Ideal if you want a coffin shaped handbag, a top hat or a waistcoat; and their selection of skull ornaments was unparalleled as far as I could tell, but like T-shirts with the 'Grim Reaper riding a Motorbike' motif, they're not for me. So we did the only sensible thing two people approaching fifty could do, we found a tea shop and had a cake!
Rusty Shears Tea Room (off Silver Street)
I wanted the Maple and Pecan cake and Rose wanted Bakewell Tart, but Rose didn't want a whole piece on her own so we shared the Bakewell Tart. It was bloody lovely, but my fork was utterly pathetic and every trip to my mouth was filled with trepidation!
We sat outside in the courtyard because it was quite noisy inside (we didn't realise until later there was another, much quieter room to the left of the 'bar'). And of course is started raining as soon as we got our drinks and Bakewell, so we had to move under the parasols, but it wasn't cold and the rain didn't come to much in the end.
From here we headed to the sea again, finding the Captain Cook statue featured in the 'Whitby Gothic Style' video and walked past people playing mini golf in the wind. The sea was getting rougher and rougher it seemed and most of the beach was covered so there was little point antagonising our calves further by trekking all the way down to the sea.
It actually looks quite calm here I guess, but appearances can be deceptive. Or maybe we're just not used to seeing the sea actually moving? We trundled along the front a bit, past the deserted paddling pool (not entirely surprising) and then walked through the 'Royal Crescent' and down 'Crescent Avenue' (which is not as posh as it sounds) and eventually managed to find the Museum and Art Gallery. Obviously we came to the back door which was closed and had to walk all the way around the front to find the entrance...
Well, what can you say other than it was a good job it was free. The Art Gallery featured three rooms, a central room featuring the most bizarre collection of nonsense you've ever witnessed, flanked by a pair of rooms filled to the gunnels with the most tedious assemblage of sea paintings and Abbey renderings imaginable. The central area was focused on documenting the various nonsense rituals to be found around the UK, which included one where a bloke has to build a crappy little fence on a beach somewhere to do something or other, one where someone dresses up like a Christmas tree and rides around on a horse, one where some failed Morris Dancers prat about with swords and one where some guy dresses up in a weird suit made of 'burrs' and then walks around for ten hours unable to go to the toilet and forced to drink anything he's offered.
Seriously, I am not making this up...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_BurrymanAs for the Museum, well that wasn't free and the art gallery hadn't exactly inspired us so we gave it a miss and headed back down the hill into town. We somehow managed to find 'Baxtergate' despite the lack of street-signs (are the Nazis coming or something?) and stumbled across another Ramsdens with a Rolex GMT Batman in the window (blimey why didn't I try it on?) and Botham's Bakery where we procured a pair of salted caramel chocolate shortbread slices for later.
Whitby was really starting to fill up now, with Pirates of every shape and size blocking the pavements and spilling out of the Wetherspoons (obvs) so we took stock of the situation and decided we'd seen enough, especially as we had a long drive home. So we headed back over the bridge and then climbed the extraordinarily steep slope next to the 199 steps up to the Abbey where our car was waiting.
It was a great day, and it was interesting to finally see Whitby. It wasn't what either of us really imagined, I think we pictured it being a bit less 'seaside'... but still, it was endlessly amusing.
We'd already scoped out a place to eat on the way out of Whitby, but we weren't hungry enough for a meal so we just shared a bowl of chips and some garlic bread. When we arrived at the Hare and Hounds in Hawkser (about 5 mins from Whitby) our noses were assaulted by the overpowering smell of vinegar and I waited for Rose to turn on her heel. Thankfully, the smell was only really by the door and turning left into the restaurant revealed a much nicer vista with a pleasing ambience.
It was also surprisingly cheap; garlic bread, chips and two Cokes for £8.50, you can't complain at that, even if we did have to scuffle through a gaggle of 'Hens' to get out.
All the way home we were mainlining Polos trying to rid ourselves of the constant taste of garlic, it was bloody nice while we were eating it but Jesus did it stick around.
The journey home was quicker than the one there and we finished the evening off with our salted caramel shortbreads and a couple of cocktails, what a great start to our week off!
