Sunday meditation: The sea

'The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.'  

Jacques Cousteau

'Our memories of the ocean will linger on, long after our footprints in the sand are gone.'

Unknown Author

'Take me to the ocean. Let me sail the open sea. 

To breathe the warm and salty air and dream of things to be' 

Erica Billups

A sunset to die for...

Sleights holiday 12

Whilst on holiday, I met with a couple of friends from my camera club, who now live in Whitby. They were kind enough to take me to one of their favourite spots for photography, the atmospheric Saltwick Bay, just south of Whitby. It has features galore with a partly submerged wreck, the Admiral Von Tromp, and several rocks and sea stacks in the bay, including the impressive Black Nab. It's a key site for finding fossils and Whitby jet. It is north-east facing and renowned for its 'double sun' effect at certain times of the year, when the sun both rises and sets over the bay. We were there for the sunset, which turned out to be absolutely spectacular. 

Like many sunsets, it started out quietly but extremely prettily, with peaches, pinks and delicate pale blues in the sky. One of the features of the bay is a shallow rock outcrop that gives rise to pools of water at low tide, pools that reflect and amplify the colours. 

I was mesmerised by the light show and ended up taking about sixty photos (!), so it has been hard to narrow them down to just a few favourites. (Next week I'll probably decide I prefer some of the others!) I've tried to show the progression of the colours as the sun sank down behind the rocks, though the top picture, taken about mid way through 'the show', is (so far) my overall favourite, I think.  

It was like watching a light show, hard to believe that the vibrant colours were natural and not some movie maker's technicolour fantasy. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I'd find it hard to believe the saturation of some of the images but I honestly have not boosted the colours in processing. Apart from the Northern Lights Aurora in Iceland, I can't think that I have ever witnessed a more stunning natural spectacle in my whole long life. I shall always remember it, such a privilege to enjoy. Indeed, a sunset to die for - or at least one to make me die happy! 

We had then to stagger back up the steep path to the top of the cliffs in the near dark, though a huge, waxing gibbous moon did help. This August supermoon, full on the 12th, is known as the Sturgeon Moon, named, I gather, by Native Americans after the abundance of fish at this time of year. Anyway, we made it safely back to the car all in one piece. I certainly wouldn't have done the trip on my own so I am grateful that my friends suggested it, and we were well rewarded for our efforts. 

Sandsend beach

Sleights holiday 9

Eventually I took off my sandals and wandered down to the beach, enjoying the cool, damp sand where the tide had recently retreated. It was early but there were plenty of families settling in for an extended stay, with all the beach paraphernalia that seems to necessitate - windbreaks (not that there was any wind!), sunshades, rugs, small tents, buckets, spades and inflatables, not to forget the all-important picnic basket. There are a few nice cafés on the beachside, and no doubt some ice cream vans would appear later too. It seemed a very safe beach for young families, with very gently sloping sand and the two streams flowing down for extra interest - always good for constructing dams! 

Looking south towards Whitby, the heat haze was obvious. I understand that a day or so later the whole coast was covered in a strong sea fret (mist) so I was quite lucky, I guess, to be able to enjoy the sunshine, though by midday it was too scorching hot for me and I retreated to my accommodation inland, and the joys of a good book.  I finished 'Eight Feet in the Andes', a travel diary by the Irish writer, Dervla Murphy (who sadly died recently). Now I'm reading 'The Book of Joy', a dialogue between the Dalai Lama and (the late) Archbishop Desmond Tutu, which is fascinating and very uplifting. 

Sandsend

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There is a two-mile long beach to the north side of Whitby, which ends in cliffs at the village of Sandsend (its name being a bit of a giveaway!) I arrived there soon after breakfast. There was already little space to park the car and people were beginning to set up camp for the day on the beach. The tide was at its lowest, so most folk were sensibly enough settling well above the high tide mark, to avoid having to move later on. 

I decided I'd explore the little village first. I've driven through it on the coast road before now, but never stopped to investigate. It turned out to be quite pretty, with cottages of stone, stucco and those lovely red clay pantiles, all arranged around a couple of becks that flow into the sea. I think most of the cottages are now holiday lets but were originally homes for fishermen, and workers at the nearby alum works and on the Mulgrave Estate, which still owns some of the land. There were once two villages, Sandsend and East Row but the two merged into one. There was a railway here between 1855 and 1958, originally presumably to facilitate the alum workings, but the easy access led to a growth in tourism

I was a little surprised to see a thatched cottage, next door to the pub. The quaint, two-bedroomed Hart Cottage is Grade II listed, built in the late 17th century - and you can rent it for your holidays, should you so wish. 

Whitby harbour

Sleights holiday 6

By the time I ended my walk in Whitby itself it was after noon, very hot and predictably very crowded. I always enjoy looking around the harbour area, which is full of boats, mostly yachts and small cruisers. 

Whitby Abbey and St Mary's Church are prominent on the headland above the old town. I didn't make my way up the famous 199 steps this time, though I wrote about the abbey and church last year HERE and HERE if you want to read that. 

In the photo above you can see the old swing bridge that I mentioned yesterday, which used to carry all through traffic from one side of Whitby to the other, until the new high level bridge was built in 1980. There has been a toll bridge here for centuries, replaced eventually by a swing bridge in the 1800s. It allows ships to pass up and down the river Esk when the tide is high enough. This was important as there are ship building and repair workshops up the estuary and now there is a marina with berths for numerous vessels. The bridge is just a single carriageway, now controlled by traffic lights and so it became the site of much traffic congestion until the new bridge was built. 

Although fishing from Whitby has diminished in volume over the years from its heyday as an important whaling port around 1800, there is still some commercial fishing. There were a number of Fisheries Patrol vessels moored, bristling with communications masts. 

I didn't linger long in Whitby because of the crowds and the heat, though on my wanderings I did come across a couple of the sculptures by Emma Stothard that form a heritage trial around the town. There was a fisherman mending his nets and 'the gansey knitter' (below), which celebrates the fisher wives who knitted traditional, thick, patterned jumpers for their menfolk.  I found a shady little park where I ate my packed lunch and then took the bus back to Sleights. I'd intended to take the train but it turned out there wasn't one! Or at least, not until very late in the day. 

 

Sleights to Whitby

Sleights holiday 5

On the first full day of my holiday, I set off fairly smartly after breakfast to walk from Sleights (pronounced Slites) to Whitby, part of the Esk Valley walk, about 4 miles. It promised to be a very hot day so I wanted to make the most of the cooler morning. The path follows closely beside the North Yorkshire Moors Railway line, which runs from Whitby to Pickering. It is a heritage line, run by volunteers, and normally runs a regular steam train service. As a result of the restrictions caused by Covid and now the recent dry weather, I gather it is struggling to be sustainable. The drought conditions meant that they were only using diesel locos this summer but then tourists, on which the line depends, are less interested in travelling... so, after a few rain showers, they brought back some steam-hauled services, with enhanced fire-watch precautions. The week that I was on holiday there, there were several trackside fires (caused by sparks from the engines) so they have once again had to stop using the steam locomotives. Having said that, I was lucky enough to catch sight of one of them as I was walking. I find the familiar chug-chug as they pass heart-warmingly nostalgic. And yes, the loco was travelling backwards... 

The drought was evident from the very low water in the River Esk too. Further along in Ruswarp (pronounced Russop) it was a little deeper, so the boat and paddleboard hire business was doing good trade.  It was hot by now, so I made my way along to a riverside café and gratefully sat in the shade with a drink for a while. 

I resumed my walk, choosing to walk along the more shaded and more direct path alongside the rail line down to Whitby. Near Ruswarp, the 13-arch brick-built Larpool Viaduct, constructed in 1882, used to take trains on the Scarborough to Whitby railway. That closed in 1965 and the bridge is now a cycle path. 

Much nearer to Whitby, the high level bridge, built in 1980, carries the A171 road across the Esk. Before this was built all the traffic used to have to go over a narrow swing bridge down in the old part of Whitby, by the harbour, which must have been a nightmare! The slender columns frame views of Whitby Abbey and St Mary's Church on the headland above the town. 

 

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside...

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There's a long, mainly sandy, beach stretching northwards between Whitby and neighbouring Sandsend, with a line of colourful beach-huts.  The tide was high when I was there but I walked along the promenade and sat for a while on the beach. It's always fun people-watching in those kinds of places. 

The North Sea was unusually blue in the hot sunshine. Though its waves were very muted, as there was little breeze, even so I was reminded of how dangerous even an innocuous-looking sea can be. There were no lifeguards anywhere to be seen, though there was a jet-ski parked up on a trailer. (What good is that?) In the short time I was there, I saw a kayaker in a wetsuit take a tumble out of his kayak, which then drifted out of his reach. He didn't really seem to be able to swim (!), necessitating another swimmer to have to help him bring the boat back in. Shortly after, a tiny child wandered away from his dad (who was engaged in building a huge sandcastle to civil engineering standards). The little boy stood in the edge of the sea where a gentle foam was washing in, followed quickly by a proper wave, only small but quite powerful enough to knock a toddler over. He promptly fell face down in the surf. I was too far away to get to him but luckily his dad looked up and saw him and ran to rescue one very traumatised, choking child! Dearie me! Apart from that, it was an idyllic scene...

Whitby memorials

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There is an iconic view from the cliff top at the other side of Whitby harbour, looking back to the church and Abbey and over the harbour. This side is the 'seaside' part of Whitby, with the beach, guesthouses and tourist amenities. (Crazy golf, anyone?) There are also a fair few landmarks, memorials and statues dotted around. 

Perhaps the most famous is the Whalebone Arch, made from the jawbone of a whale. Whaling was, of course, a highly dangerous occupation and many crews never made it back to port. Those that did tied a whale's jawbone to their ship's mast, so that watchers on shore could quickly see the good news. A commemorative whalebone arch has stood in this spot since Victorian times, though the bones have been replaced a few times. 

Nearby is a statue of Whitby's most famous 'son', the explorer Captain James Cook:

Up by the church is a rather fine Victorian monument called Caedmon's Cross, commemorating the 7th century Anglo-Saxon poet, Caedmon, who lived in the monastic community at Whitby Abbey. Its carved panels depict various saints, kings and biblical figures. (See HERE for detail)  

More recent artworks include some figures by local artist Emma Stothard, forming a Heritage Trail around town, inspired by Whitby's fishing heritage. (Below) Dora Walker (1890-1980) was the first female fishing boat skipper on the north east coast, after working as a nurse during WW1. She was something of a historian too, writing memoirs of nursing and the fishing communities locally.  

Down by the harbour there's a Whitby fishwife, by the same artist. 

I was touched by this memorial too, though it has proved controversial. The bombed-out (replica) house, complete with an unexploded shell, commemorates 137 civilians who lost their lives along this coast on 16 December 1914 in a bombardment by the Imperial German Navy. 

Fishing from Whitby

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Between 1753 and 1883, Whitby was an important port for whale fishing. Boats would go out to waters round Greenland and it's said that 2761 whales in total were brought back to Whitby harbour. Whale blubber was rendered down to oil in the boiler houses by the harbour. It must have been a smelly place! The oil was used for burning in lamps, making soap and candles. The skin was used for leather, cartilage for glue and the bones for making ‘stays’ in corsets. Eventually, the whale trade dwindled as petroleum products were brought in. 

It is still a busy harbour with a small commercial fleet but fishing tends nowadays to be largely a tourist industry. People book sea fishing trips and others fish from the harbour breakwaters with rod and line. A few locals put out lobster pots and mackerel and cod can be caught off the coast. 

You can buy seafood around the harbour, including the famous Magpie Café (declared by none other than Rick Stein to be the best fish and chips in Britain). There is a still a smokehouse in the old town, producing kippers (smoked herring).