Whitby
Chris and I continued our tour of north England with an overnight trip to Whitby. He knew I would fall for it, and I fell hard. The picturesque string of town names along that coast intrigued me (Ravenscar, Scarborough; I think I need to research what Scar meant along the North Sea.) But Whitby absorbed all of my attention (and my daydreams for years to come).
the view toward Whitby Abbey
the view from Whitby Abbey
As you can see, we climbed to the best viewpoints. The abbey is above the bridge (below). Whitby is at the mouth of the River Esk.
bridge to the abbey
another view from the abbey
walking down from the abbey
In many of my photos from our trip to north England, you will see the same back ahead of me. Chris walked on while I stopped for photos, and therefore added good human scale to the pictures.
down at the harbour
Whitby Harbour
Whitby Harbour
Whitby Harbour
Whitby Harbour
Again, these are all real perspective because I had no telephoto lens.
boats
Helga Marie
in the town
We stayed in a B&B just by the first car on this street:
our B&B
We were lucky to get a room because it was Christmas week.
Whitby in the morning
This building with balconies was neary our B&B:
balconies
Many buildings were built of stone that glowed in the winter sun.
little houses….I would love to have seen inside them.
In the window of one of the cottages, I photographed a bouquet of tulips. When we returned later, the wood frame had been painted white. This is my favourite photo of any I have ever taken in my life.
the tulip window
Whitby Market Square
a tiny alley near downtown
that Whitby glow
another tiny alley
the narrow streets
yet another adorably tiny alley
Chris providing human scale
Whitby Workingmen’s Social Club
greengrocer
Hanover Books
All through our travels, Chris and I went into bookstores. The favourite author of one of the owners of Hanover Books (above) was Betty McDonald, of the Pacific Northwest (“The Egg & I”). (My favourite book by her is Onions in the Stew about her life on Vashon Island.) The shop had three stories of books.
window with ship
another of my favourite photos ever. LOVE those windows.
I could not walk more than a few feet before finding something else to photograph. Chris was getting further and further ahead. My slow pace must have been frustrating to someone who just wanted to stroll. (One of the things that makes Allan and I compatible is that Allan would be taking photographs, too.)
walls and stairs
looking back at the hill where our B&B was located.
Whitby abounds in passageways to fascinating courtyards.
The Folly
peeking into a courtyard
Look at those steep steps to the right, and a little greenhouse to the left.
in another courtyard
old glass
courtyard stairs
Can you imagine this in summer with all the plants climbing and blooming from those containers?
There was a cottage for sale in Arguments Yard. Oh how I wanted to live there. In the real Arguments Yard, not just in a situation of arguing.
Arguments Yard
Do not miss this virtual tour of the Arguments Yard street! And this website tells us that “Unlike the name suggests, it’s not a place to meet for a quarrel!
It is named after Thomas Argument who built a cottage on Church Street
with its back garden running down to the harbourside
To raise some more income he built five more cottages in the garden area which he then rented out.” Nowadays you could rent a vacation cottage in Arguments Yard.
peeking into Arguments Yard from the lower gate.
The cottage on the right hand side was for sale…#6 Arguments Yard:
Number 6 Arguments Yard
Look at how they have stuffed the little space with plants. I bet they add even more in summer so that they might only have a narrow space to walk.
In a parallel universe I bought #6 Arguments Yard.
below Arguments Yard
The Duke of York could have been our local. That reminds me that on our evening in Whitby, we went into a pub. Chris had gotten me watching the northern telly drama Coronation Street months before so that I could absorb the northern accent. I had to ask him to translate for me at first, and then I learned to understand. He could speak in a Northern accent, although his parents had insisted he speak in a more upper class one. But in Whitby, even though the pub goers were speaking English, neither of us could understand a word.
The Seamen’s Houses
looking into the courtyard of the Seamen’s Houses
and looking out from their courtyard to the seaman’s private park
the private park for the Seamen’s Houses
Now I live in a town by the sea and by the mouth of a river with a little harbour surrounded by hills. But the 100 year old historic houses of my beloved Ilwaco just do not compare with the beautiful stone buildings of Whitby. The steeper hills of Astoria, Oregon, just across the Columbia River, bear more of a resemblance to Whitby, but it seems that Whitby and Astoria also share a big problem with landslides.
I hope that Whitby is still as quaint and walkable as it was 25 years ago. While I spent less than 48 hours there, it has lived on in my heart ever since.
a longing look back over the moors toward Whitby
Years later, Chris wrote his own description of an autumn 2013 visit to Whitby. You can read it here.
Tangly Cottage Gardening 