Yet another retrospective blog as I wait to travel to the North East on 27 October. Again the recollection is a little sketchy, but the route and the main points of interest are still clear in my mind.
I travelled by train to Filey, changing at York and Seamer. The journey was uneventful except for a rather choppy ride on a Pacer multiple unit between York and Seamer. On arrival at Filey, I spent a few minutes revisiting some of the places I knew as a child when we came here as a family almost every year during the 1940's and early 50's. The most significant of these was the miniature golf course, the scene of my most serious misdemeanour at the tender age of seven. Since I was not deemed old enough to play by may parents. I was given the job of "caddy" which didn't please me one little bit. When the rest of the family had tee'd off, I would hang behind and "modify" the course by pointing the marker arrow to a different hole. This seemed to go fine until we strarted to hear arguments behind us as the modified course had its effect and the family was forced to retreat from the course without finishing the round!
|Flamborough Head from Filey|
There followed a very enjoyable cliff top walk around the edge of Flamborough Head. At the very high Bempton Cliffs, I could see all kinds of seabirds wheeling around, taking off and landing on their precarious nests. I then passed the ancient Danes Dyke. walked high above the tiny harbour at North Landing and arrived at the lighthouse and radio installations at Flamborough head itself.
The walk took me around the cliff past South Landing and the other end of Danes Dyke. Finally, there was a gentle descent past Sewerby Hall and into Bridlington. I made my way to my B&B for the night and turned in after a supper of fish and chips eaten by the harbourside.
The next day, I set off along the sands early after breakfast, passing a small group of beach campers. The whole of this part of the trip was along the sands, except for the occasional excursion to overcome the monotony of seeing low, almost unbroken earth cliffs to my right, with the calm sea to my left. I passed Ulrome, the scene of many holidays in the 1940's the caravan site where we stayed seemed much smaller than before, due to cliff erosion.
Eventually, after a long beach walk, I arrived at Hornsea and caught a bus back to Bridlington, followed by the train home.