A little outing

[catgate]

This morning was one of those magic September mornings here, so we decided to have a ride up to Robin Hood's Bay just south of Whitby. We had been threatening to go for quite some time and today was to be the day.

We set off intent on going via Pocklington, Stamford Bridge, Malton, Pickering and then across country just south of Sleights and north of Fylingdale.

We had the usual last minute washing of the windscreen panic, which by now is a tradition on a par with Edie and the locked front door in Last of the Summer Wine. We got that out of the way and set off.

Our route to Pocklington is initially along a length of road that started out, as all the roads around did, as a single track lane for horses and carts. They have virtually all been “tarmaced”, over the years, and quite a number have become wider as they have been resurfaced, though, like beauty, this is but skin deep. Some to the point where it is possible for two cars to pass each other without both having to take to the grass verge.

This bit of road however is in a league of its own. As the years have gone by horses gave way to tractors, and they gave way to bigger tractors and large agribusiness machines. There are tractors around here that simply defy description. Tyres a yard+ across...horizontally. And as high as you like.

Some years ago a couple of brothers started a pallet making business and brought in trees to be cut up in their saw mill, to be made into pallets in their construction sheds, and then be taken out on 40 ft. articulated tractor/trailer units. The net result has been that the roads around the pallet business have become wider due to the necessity of tractors, wagons, cars and fat people having to take to the grass verge when confronted by a 40 ft. load of pallets. Sadly this widening has not been recognised by the East Riding council, and although they seem to send out a man with a Transit pick up and a small quantity of tarmac every month or so, the situation is constantly getting worse because the only repairs that are effected are pocket handkerchief sized (literally) patches on the actual traditional carriage way. This has resulted in huge pot holes continuing to proliferate at the sides of the road, in most of which one could almost launch a boat.

Now for some reason which has not become totally obvious to me yet the worst of these pot holes are just before bends in the road. I suspect it has something to do with the fact that visibility at these points is only a matter of yards, and if something does pop round the corner as one is approaching it, the only response can be to abandon the road pretty smartish. Whereas on the straight bits one has the luxury of picking a suitable “pull off” place.

Well, this morning we had gone only about a couple of miles, and had just passed the pallet making emporium, when round a corner came a lunatic in a wagon. He was not on the wrong side of the road, there is only one side, but he was using it ALL. So I had to take to the verge, which was not there. It had been replaced by the mother and father of all potholes. I managed to straddle the widest and obviously deepest part whilst retaining some offside tread on the tarmac, but the wave of stinking liquid that was thrown up was educational.

The local farmers appear to have parcels of land spread over very wide areas, in some cases a few miles, and so dung, in all its guises, gets transported, and spilled, along most roads. It seemed as though most of that spilled along this road in the last few years had gravitated to this particular pothole. What a bloody mess (and stink). About turn at next gate way and return home for car washing.

We set off again. Management had a pair of “posh shoes” that needed new heels. They are her “going to wedding shoes” and after the last wedding she noticed that the heels were damaged. (Don't ask me what she had been doing I haven't a clue...I don't do weddings). So we would drop these shoe off at the cobbler's in Pocklington for repair on our way through. We discussed it and thought that she should have the shoes “at the ready” in case of being called to an emergency wedding.

So we dropped off the shoes (“You can pick them up later ...we close at 5”) and went on our way.

We had a very pleasant ride through the country side. Over the hills and down into Malton. We worked our way onto the Pickering road and after travelling at a fairly slow pace due to a variety of traffic we realised that as we looked up the road ahead of us there was a preponderance of caravans ...and motor homes in fact they were scattered about like a disease. After three or four long hold-ups, for as yet still undetermined reasons, and after passing the road end to Thornton le Dale I decided to turn round and go back to the Thornton le Dale junction and take that route. As I had just got onto the Thornton le Dale road and stopped for management to have a quick check on the map a chap in a 4x4 pulled up. He told me that up in Pickering there was a 5 day Caravan Club rally starting and was kind enough to guide me through to the other side of Thornton le Dale.

We eventually got back onto our chosen route and went up the Whitby road past the Fylingdales secret spy station and almost to the top of Sleights Bank, where we should have turned off east. But the terrain did not appear to have seen the map and the road which I had been going to go on did not seem to be there. And as a result we had to take an alternative route that also seemed to be at complete variance to the map. In fact there was virtually no correlation between map and ground. It was as though one person had designed the map and another had designed the actual country.

Still by using the sun and my boy scouts knife (that has a thing on it for getting girl guides out of horses hooves) we arrived at Robin Hood's Bay....but he was not in.

It was a quaint place, and if there had been fewer of the great unwashed wandering about it could have been a very pleasant place. It was certainly spoiled from my point of view by being made up mainly of UP and DOWN with very, very little ON.

One very amusing episode occurred when we were doing the UP back from the bottom of the DOWN. So steep is it that the pavement is nothing but steps with a hand rail at the road side. We were coming up the steps at the right hand side of the road. Now for some reason this years new term had included a trip to Robin Hood's Bay for a couple of hundred junior school pupils from somewhere, and they all seemed to be climbing the step at the same time as we were.

The parcel in front of us had the usual teacher accompaniment, with the usual “Johnny don't do that, it's not nice”..”Mary put that away. “ etc. At one point she turned, looked down he hill and said to them “Keep to the right” and indicated the hand rail at the road side of the steps. She then turned and walked on. Some of the kids moved away from the hand rail and went to their right. She stopped and turn round again and once more told them to keep to the right, and then continued up the hill.

I thought there is no wonder today's kids can not write or read if the teachers are so thick as to not realise that when one is facing the opposite way right can suddenly become left. So I ducked down and shouted “Please Miss do you mean Left? ” No response.“Please Miss do you mean Left? ” no response. At the fourth go she realised someone was shouting and she turned round and realised what she had done. Then tried to make light of it.

We had a fairly uneventful ride home, but it was spoiled somewhat by the safe drivers. Those who have drive at 40MPH for the last 40years and have never had an accident. They have caused many but never been in one.

The cobbler was just polishing the shoes when she went in to pick them up, just going up to five.

We are now ready for the next wedding.

[Boris]

Robin Hood's Bay....It was certainly spoiled from my point of view by being made up mainly of UP and DOWN with very, very little ON.

One very amusing episode occurred when we were doing the UP back from the bottom of the DOWN. So steep is it that the pavement is nothing but steps with a hand rail at the road side.

From recent memory the height of each of those steps is just a bit more than what you would call "comfortable".

IMHO they should also have oxygen stations every 50 vertical yards of the climb/descent :D.

How they manage to get up/down that road on an icy day defies my comprehension. :)

[andsome]

When is the next wedding? :D

[AlanHo]

What a lovely story.

How's about taking her wellies down to Hull for an MOT so you have another adventure to tell us all about.

[artist]

I love your stories!

I giggle throughout at your misfortunes.............

:D :D :D

quote:

Still by using the sun and my boy scouts knife ............

Perhaps you could give my other half some lessons?

[catgate]

There is a nasty sting in the tail of the tale.

I am not sure if I mentioned it in the past, but I have been aflicted with Varicosis since my youth, and have been troubled on and off with ulcerated ankes. To the point that the last serious outbreak, about five years ago, finally put paid to our passion for motorcycle touring. (The present trips out, like yesterday, sitting in a metal box shielded from it all, are indeed a poor substitute for sitting up, actually in the country side, breathing it all in. )

Well, yesterdays mammoth climbing of the steps stretched the skin on my ankles to the point that, by the time I was going to bed, I could feel a great discomfort on the inside of my left ankle down to my heel. I was awakened in the early hours of today by a very nasty pain in precisely the same place, and when I went to wet the bathroom carpet I could only bare to walk on the ball of my left foot. Putting on some elastic support stockings has helped but I am presently (well not just now as I write) hobbling about with the aid of my dear old mothers walking stick, hoping that it is only just a temporary inconvenience and not another outbreak of nasty.

We will see,

[doug]

Only ever put your best foot forward.

[Watchful]

There is a nasty sting in the tail of the tale.

I am not sure if I mentioned it in the past, but I have been aflicted with Varicosis since my youth, and have been troubled on and off with ulcerated ankes. To the point that the last serious outbreak, about five years ago, finally put paid to our passion for motorcycle touring. (The present trips out, like yesterday, sitting in a metal box shielded from it all, are indeed a poor substitute for sitting up, actually in the country side, breathing it all in. )

Well, yesterdays mammoth climbing of the steps stretched the skin on my ankles to the point that, by the time I was going to bed, I could feel a great discomfort on the inside of my left ankle down to my heel. I was awakened in the early hours of today by a very nasty pain in precisely the same place, and when I went to wet the bathroom carpet I could only bare to walk on the ball of my left foot. Putting on some elastic support stockings has helped but I am presently (well not just now as I write) hobbling about with the aid of my dear old mothers walking stick, hoping that it is only just a temporary inconvenience and not another outbreak of nasty.

We will see,

Your story brought back memories of our recent holiday there. What a climb !! Good job there's a seat half-way. We stayed at Sleights and visited R. H. Bay by bus from Whitby.

Your story is very funny, especially the above trip to wet the bathroom crapet, (sorry, carpet) :D

Hope it doesn't turn nasty

[andsome]

Better get rid of the bathroom carpet, we have that warm vinyl, I forget what it's called. :D

[catgate]

.... I forget what it's called.

Slippy......particularly when wet

[Watchful]

Better get rid of the bathroom carpet, we have that warm vinyl, I forget what it's called. :D

Cushionflor ? B)