Day 15: Helmsley part 2

Helmsley in North Yorkshire is a delightful place and I am sorry to be leaving

It's 8.30am on Sunday morning, day 15 on my Round the Coast in 80 days road trip, and in Helmsley market square the church bells are pealing while competing with the roar and throbbing of motorbike engines.

The bikes are huge and expensive, BMW and Harleys, and their riders strutting their stuff like modern day Vikings. Cafes are already open for breakfast. By lunchtime the market square will be crammed with them. Why? Why here? The B1257.

Tragically some of the riders have the new look of Sunday bikers who sit behind a desk in a bank in Leeds all week. They are the ones who may not make it safely home tonight. Fingers crossed lads and may angels ride pillion.

Helmsley has some kind of meeting this week to stop the Government licensing Fracking in their neighbourhood. The locals are very worried. I can't understand why there is a need to frack in Yorkshire or anywhere else for that matter.

Just convert cars to run on rape seed oil. Job done!

There is a place near here close to my heart. It is the smallest turf maze in Europe. It was on my way back to the coast so I detoured to find it. It is on the top of a hill near the village of Dalby, and not signposted.

These are rare and historically precious. I was bitterly disappointed to discover that, whereas in the past it has been beautifully maintained by North Yorkshire Council, sadly this was not at all the case today. 

I sent them a plea citing the fact that I had recommended them to Eastbourne Borough Council as part of my bid to have one constructed in Eastbourne new town centre. I am awaiting their response.

Got to County Durham and tried to reach the coast but at Easingham Colliery got to a dead end and kept being funnelled back onto the A19 so gave up. Sorry folks. Saw nothing much of the county but the A19 instead.

Once I got to Northumbria I was in serious sand dune country.

This is not my next Airbnb stop…this is Seaton Delaval Hall where I spent the afternoon.

No point having National Trust membership and not taking advantage of it.

The best bit was the Seaton sluice Ukulele Band who were there entertaining the visitors.

 

Perhaps I will take it on with my local Age Concern group after all.

Newbiggin-by-the-Sea is my home for the next three days in a flat, called appropriately Bolthole by The Sea. My host Elaine is welcoming and the flat light and bright.

It's just two minutes walk from the sea. I am looking forward to spending some time exploring this bit of the coast.

Day 13: Staithes, Saltburn and Helmsley

Today I went to Staithes, Saltburn and then 'off piste' (no that is not a misprint and has nowt to do with alcohol).

I have a friend of over forty years who lives in Helmsley and since I am in Yorkshire I plan to go and visit.

Bidi and Dave had suggested I go via Sandend, tiny place just a few minutes along the coast from Whitby.

It was really cold and the tide was in which was a pity as I could see caves in the cliffs and which might have been interesting to explore.

Between Runswick Bay and Staithes I saw a signpost to Port Mulgrave and on impulse shot off down the lane 'to go there and back to see how far it was'. Family and friends think I can be a tad impulsive. They are right. There was very little there bar a few houses, a farm, surprising livestock

and the road ending in a dead end on top of a cliff.

National Trust signage suggested there was a path from the cliff top down to what remained of the port, but it was closed off. I could just see far below me, the remains of a derelict jetty falling into the sea.

This whole bit of coast line is known as the dinosaur coast and I was delighted to discover a clutter of ammonites just left on a rock.

Staithes is very less commercial than Robin Hoods Bay. Cars have to be left on the hill above the town and there is a Volunteer Visitor Centre mercifully nothing to do with Scarborough Council so they can't close it!

I met three lovely ladies there who told me Port Mulgrave used to be where paddle steamers and Barges left from to transport local iron ore to Jarrow. No sign of any of that now.

They said that in a place as remote as Staithes, residents had to be proactive. They had won funding to produce their own visitors brochures and to commission the local history group to produce books on local history. A micro publishing company in fact.

 

It was still bitterly cold and dank, and I had the place to myself apart from a few residents, a couple of other hardy tourists, and group of holiday artists painting in mittens and complaining that the air was so damp their watercolours did not dry

Staithes claims to fame were:

1. Captain Cook once lived there
2. It used to be a big herring fishing place
3. That Paul Czainski has created an illusion trail in the town of Trompe L'oeil
4. And that CBeebies filmed Old Jack's Boat staring Bernard Cribbins in  the town bringing in a totally different age group  of tourists into the town .

I love arts and crafts and St. Peter's Centre not only had some very original local work,

But I also found two more tree carvings by Bidi's tree surgeon brother.

 

Loftus and Skinningrove were a bit of a shock after Whitby. I got a sense of considerable deprivation there and despite Loftus having the distinction of being the resting place of The Saxon Princess, every other shop on the route through the town was closed or boarded up. Sad.

In contrast Saltburn just a short distance further up the coast, was an interesting Victorian seaside town with an amusement less pier

And gothic architecture in which Count Dracula would probably feel right at home.

 

 

I sat with a spritely 82 year old Scot called Dorothy who used to be a journalist on the Glasgow Herald.

She filled me in on the lowdown about the town. She said that Queen Victoria kept  a suite of rooms at the Zetland- the first Railway Hotel and now flats.

It had a private train platform so she could travel from London to the hotel. And a cliff tram, still working, would transport her from the hotel to the promenade below. She also suggested salaciously, that the place known as Teddy's Nook was where Prince Edward had illicit nooky. Whether that is true  - I couldn't possibly comment.

Time to head to Helmsley a gorgeous town in the Dales.

On the way I saw the curious sight of masses of blue and yellow bikes of all types in totally odd places.

I took a while for me to twig that they lined the route of the recent Yorkshire Bike Tour.

If there is any road more beautiful and exhilarating than the B1257 from Stokesley to Helmsley, I would like to see it.

Tight bends, hidden dips, conifer forest, sheep and few villages to slow you down, it is sad that it has become a magnet to Bikers 45 of whom have died on that Dales road, nicknamed The Bilsdale TT, in just 3 years.

But I got safely to Liz and Helmsley.