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Spooky! The imposing 13th century Whitby Abbey at sunset

We’d heard that fine, bright, and warm days on the north east coast were few and far between, but we’ve just come back from a week in Whitby, and must have been lucky. Five days out of the seven were lovely, bathing the moors with their not-quite-purple heather in bright sunlight, and letting us leave our jeans packed away in the holiday cottage bedroom drawers.

Away with Nik’s folks once more, this year’s trip to the other side of Yorkshire followed 2008’s visit to the Dales, and 2007’s stay in Cornwall. Yes, we all didn’t tire of each other’s company, and yes, that’s why the man from Volkswagen delivered the Fox the day before we went, so that we could give it a thorough test.

The picturesque beauty and tranquility of Runswick Bay

And a thorough test it had. Over 1,000 miles in a week saw us visit picturesque places perched on the coast such as Runswick Bay and Staithes, and the terminus of Wainwright’s Coast to Coast Walk, Robin Hood’s Bay. Tiny villages dwarfed by the natural rocky outcrops onto which they’re sprinkled, tales of smuggling and fishing dominate, the small harbours very reminiscent of Devon and Cornwall.

Multicoloured posh beach huts in Scarborough’s north bay

Bridestones in the long and wild fields in the Dalby Forest

We whizzed around Whitby, too, inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula, taking sunset snapshots of the abbey, in all its Gothic splendour. Staying just outside the seaside town was perfect for exploring the area in the car. We buzzed around the moors from Scarborough to have a milkshake in the 1950s themed Harbour Bar, as featured in Richard Wilson’s recent TV series, Britain’s Best Drives, and spent a day in the Dalby Forest, also featured in the programme.

Richard Wilson, an old Morris Traveller, and a few Goths

The faded Victorian splendour of Scarborough gave way to the twisted lane majesty of York, where we took shelter from the persistent rain in the National Rail Museum, and ate posh afternoon tea in Betty’s, the infamous and stylish café tea rooms local to Yorkshire. Ferried around in the little yellow VW, the whole week added up to what may be called a ‘grand time’ up north.

All aboard! Streamlining at the National Rail Museum

If you’re in Yorkshire, you must have a cuppa at Betty’s

And although the moors aren’t as picture perfect as the Dales, they do have a stark beauty of their own. The flat heather-covered expanses with roads seemingly draped over them, narrow lanes and coastal hidey-holes with photo opportunities makes the area worth a visit, and completes the Yorkshire picture. They may have differing personalities, but both areas are a must-see. Quite moor-ish in fact…

After a break of eight months, we were back retracing our steps in the Yorkshire Dales over the long Bank Holiday Easter weekend. It was nice to be back so soon after our last visit in August, and going up by train Thursday evening after work, and coming back yesterday morning via the excellent National Express East Coast service straight into the office made a pleasant change.

They were certainly an action-packed four days. On Good Friday we went to Richmond, which we missed last time, and walked around the hill upon which the castle sits, catching the River Swale falls, the likes of which are almost around every turn in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. A grey and damp day did nothing to dampen our spirits, though, and we spent the afternoon in Barnard Castle, before taking afternoon tea at the French chateau-like Bowes Museum.

Views of green stone-walled fields and sheep litter the pretty Coverdale

On Saturday morning we mooched around the centre of Darlington (it was our base for the long weekend, staying with Viv), before the weather broke and we were treated to very un-Bank Holiday like sunshine, which made the drive into Coverdale and down to Kettlewell very enjoyable. Driving over the steep green hills dotted with sheep and stone walls really does make you want to live there, cut off from the world, surrounded by the beauty of it all, but if you pick the right place, just a short drive from the nearest town.

If we thought we were lucky on Saturday, then Sunday’s sunny spells were even more of a gift. We’d planned to go around Pen-Y-Ghent, one of the Three Peaks in the area, but not long after we’d got on The Stang to the Tan Hill Inn (made famous by the 1970s Everest TV ads, and the highest pub in Great Britain at 1,732ft above sea level) and stopped every few minutes to cross rivers on stepping stones and stand in slightly damp fields to take pictures, we realised that we’d woefully not allowed enough time to fit it all into a day.

Blame that long holiday croissant/teacake/muffin breakfast. In the end, after a sunny lunch in Thwaite, we headed for Hawes (home of the Wensleydale Creamery, which we did last time), then through Gayle, and back down to Hubberholme, before once again stopping in Kettlewell. We hadn’t planned to end up there at all, but when Andrew announced that we had no reverse gear due to the gear knob coming off in his hand, we could do little else. And we only laughed because of the deadpan way that he told us, honest…

So, we didn’t make Pen-Y-Ghent, but we did make it home (the car surprisingly fixing itself, both long enough for us to enjoy the last day, and for Andrew and Sheila to make it home to Essex on Tuesday) for another large dinner, followed by more rounds of Rummikub and cards. Staying in Viv’s really has made it easier and more enjoyable than if we’d have been in a hotel, and with all our kit being taken up in the car prior to us leaving, we really couldn’t have managed it otherwise.

Bank Holiday Monday had planned to be a day in Durham, but although it was only a short car journey away, we took a detour and explored the industrial Teesport area of the north. A now faded source of industry (though oil refinery and power station chimneys still dominate the hazy skyline), it was a diverting visit, and after almost being stopped by the police for touring the estate, we travelled on the Middlesborough Transporter Bridge. Suspended in the nine-car carriage while it moved us 260 metres across the River Tees really was quite strange, but the speed at which it moved was impressive, the groaning of the wheels and cables a reminder of its heavy industrial past.

Cars are carried over the River Tees in the yellow cradle (left of picture)

Durham itself reminded me both of Cambridge and Norwich, its gothic-inspired cathedral and large riverside paths taking in the best of both cities. Unsurprisingly, we looked in wonder around the cathedral and enjoyed a sunlit stroll by the river, watching eager dogs swim in the river, collecting sticks thrown by their owners.

The magnificence and splendour of Durham’s gothic-inspired Cathedral

It really was all very relaxed, which sums up the four-day stay as a whole. Better than staying at home (where we’d invariably end up doing things around the house we shouldn’t, and not having a break), not only were the Dales their usually picture perfect selves, I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to spend the long Easter weekend.