Yesterday was a lovely clear winter day so we drove up to the Yorkshire coastal area. We have heard about the seaside resort towns there in northeast England and have also heard about fossil collecting around Robin Hood's Bay. This was sort of a scouting mission for us to decide where we would like to spend more time and what might be the best route. We drove up near the coast towards Scarborough wending our way through many small towns and villages. We didn't stop in Scarborough, just drove through. It was slow going too, due partly to major road works. The streets were clogged with soccer crazy fans. Scarborough's team, dubbed affectionately by the natives as Boro, had, beyond all expectations, made it into an FA Cup match against the favored Chelsea team. I really don't know much about the game but there has been much excitement on the local news about the event. Turns out Boro lost 0-1. But the team did much better than had been expected and are happy to have been in the competition at all.

Shortly after leaving Scarborough we came to a road that leads to Robin Hood's Bay, a small village on the bay of the same name. This stretch of the Yorkshire coastline is a favored spot for fossil hunters. During low tide Jurassic period rocks, known as scars, are exposed. The coast is lined by crumbling cliffs, also another source of Jurassic specimens. Robin Hood's Bay is perched atop a tall cliff and there are many buildings clinging to the road that follows a deep ravine. We walked down that road to the beach. What a strange looking beach it was -- otherworldly was the only way I could describe. Strewn over the "scars" were some odd seaweedy plants. The leaves of these plants were studded with little pods so that when we walked over them it sounded as if we were walking on bubblewrap. Pop. Pop. Pop. We watched as oystercatchers scuttled along the shoreline on their stiltlike legs, digging into the mud with their elongated red beaks. I was surprised by the crumbling rock from the cliff face. We witnessed several sprays of tumbling rocks and I understood why it is recommended that fossil hunters wear hard hats. We'd like to go back to the coast for some fossil hunting some day. We've heard Ravenscar is a good place to go for that.

We made our way back up the hill and headed further north to Whitby, another little seaside resort town. Whitby is situated on the River Esk, looked over by the ruins of Whitby Abbey. The little town is packed with history. This is the town from which Capt. James Cook sailed on his circumnavigating voyages. The inventor of the crow's nest hails from Whitby. England's oldest poet, Caedmon, is a native son. And Bram Stoker found inspiration, and a setting, for Dracula in the town of Whitby. I so wanted to like Whitby but I confess I was a bit disappointed. The streets along the near side of the river were crowded with tacky seaside arcades and sweet shops. It seems every other building was a fish and chips joint. Across the river seems the best place to go. That's where the Abbey is. And there the streets were narrow and winding. Alas, most of the little shops were closed for the winter season. This practice has become a big frustration (and surprise) for us.

It was getting too late to visit the Abbey -- we'll save that for another day. We drove home on the A169 -- it cuts straight through the North Yorks Moors. What a difference in scenery. Miles and miles of nothing but wild moorland. I'll bet it is beautiful in spring and summer when the heather is in bloom. Eventually we hung a right onto the A170 and drove through some very interesting towns. Pickering had a lot of antique shops that seem worth investigating. Thirsk, the home of James (All Creatures Great and Small) Herriott, also seems worthy of exploration. Yep, we understand why the natives are so proud of Yorkshire.