Whitby Time Warp

A sea shanty welcome into the harbour of Whitby town for the young pirate boy.

'Oh, a dish of rotten fish wouldn’t do us any harm

  And we’ll all hang on behind. ....'

                                               

We followed in the footsteps of Count Dracula who landed here and ran around scaring the inhabitants (Dracula that is, not my son) but we firmly drew the line at dashing up the 199 steps, difficult with a pirate's push chair.

With the shadow of the Abbey over us, we wandered into the windy cobbled streets watching out for smugglers and ghouls hiding in dark alleyways. Ignoring the prospect of phantoms we stopped a while when tea and cake was on offer. 

Spooky Whitby

Victoriana reigns here, jewellery shops selling black whitby jet on every street and a smell of smoked kippers leading our noses. Although I do not like fish, I felt drawn to this smell as the area was so evocative of stepping back in time and I half expected to see misty figures wearing top hats ambling down the street. This was of course the old Fortune's Kippers smokehouse that is still open this day since opening in 1872.  It's easy to see why Whitby is host to an annual Gothic Weekend.

The young pirate enjoyed splashing around in puddles after a massive downpour where us and about thirty other people had sheltered under a bandstand whilst being circled by menacing looking sea gulls. It's a great place to get the imagination going. A huge whale jaw bone arch to amaze at monstrous sea creatures, tales of the voyages of Captain Cook who served his seafaring apprenticeship in the town and of course young salty sea pups can fend off those landlubbers.  Avast!