Whitby

Bram Stoker spent a great deal of time in Whitby and at the Royal Hotel.  It is said that while looking out of from his window at the Royal he found his inspiration for Dracula by watching a large black dog leaping from a ship that had run aground on the foreshore.

We have his room – the foreshore is visible, the wind is howling; there are any number of black dogs straining on reluctant leads in the sideways rain.  The staff all have Transylvanian accents; the steaks are a touch too rare.  At breakfast we are joined by the undead.

The Dracula convenience store – late night shopping only

Whitby attracts the Goth community and it is easy to understand why – not just the Dracula connection but that very Victorian, very black material, Whitby jet can be found everywhere among the narrow streets and cobbled alleyways. It is a Hammer Horror film set with perfect backdrops – the steep, steep steps to St Mary’s and the ruined Abbey lording it over the town.

Despite this, it is also a place of romance, light and poetry.

West Pier – Whitby

Last of the light – Whitby

Things Passed Away

In lapis, dun and grey, heave, swell and gale
are stilled; the whispering mast and shingle-roar
silenced.  Small boats of larch and oak and prayer
take on the storm with slender oars and straining sail.
Umber and ochre beget beast and bale,
the harvest art, the scythe, the brooding moor,
and, as lowering clouds advance upon the shore,
the lover waits, the mother saves the veil.

But soon, beyond these whelming cobalt seas,
young men will reel, mistaking smoke for fret
and blasted shells for raining ore or jet,
seeking dolphins as they to darkness yield.
Then, painting dark on dark when life has ceased,
charred bones become ivory-black and stain the field.

Jane Poulton
March 2015.

The Cross, St Mary’s, Whitby.

Over the rooftops and houses

St Mary’s Whitby

Romeo, Romeo, I’m your Juliet
I’m the pot of gold that you haven’t found yet
And I’m here, right here

The Fratellis

Happy, smiley, people – in the rain at Whitby

Runswick Bay

All summer long the plan had been that we would wait for a suitable weather window and head for the far north in the early Autumn.  A combined lack of patience and unfavourable Met Office forecasts has found us in an entirely different place – Runswick Bay on the north Yorkshire coast, not far from the centre of all things Goth, Whitby (sorry meticulousmick, definitely north another time).  It is a special place ideally positioned for invigorating walks along the cliff-top sections of the Cleveland Way.  For three days we were rewarded with generally benign conditions walking as far as Staithes to the north and Ravenscar to the south. However, this morning we awoke to an entirely different place – the North Sea that had lain silent as a millpond was now a seething cauldron; it was like waking up to a landscape utterly changed by overnight snow.  Before and after:

Runswick BayRunswick BayRunswick Bay(click on the images to enlarge)