Windswept Moors

Today was the day that Brenda had scheduled a day of fly-fishing with a guide on Driffield Beck in the North York Moors. She had been in touch with her guide, Roger Beck, before leaving the States and several times after her arrival on Sunday. The forecast was for rain in the morning giving way to sunshine by noon. It seemed a good day for their scheduled fishing outing. Brad had to work, so I was behind the wheel for the day. We left the house at 8 a.m. and I drove north to Thirsk. From there Roger instructed us to follow the caravan route to the village of Ampleforth where he lives. I'd never driven the caravan route -- it's marked by an orange square with a solid black border -- but it took us on local roads through some small villages and avoided the steep grade of Sutton Bank.

After we dropped Brenda off, I drove into Pickering where Domenica and I hopped on a vintage steam engine train on the North York Moors Railway. The train appeared to date from the 50s and the engine looked like the one used for the train in the Harry Potter movies. We took the train to the end of the line at Grosmont where we got out and spent just a few minutes browsing the train station and shop. The waiting room had been restored to look as if it were the 1950s with old posters, a stack of leather valises and a coal burning fireplace. We needed the fire as it was quite cold and windy. We hopped back on the train and rode to the next stop in, Goathland. This stop is famous for two reasons: 1) it is the setting for a popular British soap opera called Hearbeat; 2) it is the setting for Hogsmeade Station in the Harry Potter movie(s).

The tiny village of Goathland stands in as the village of Aidensfield in the show, Heartbeat. Aside from the little gift shops chock full of Heartbeat souvenirs there is not much to Goathland aside from a pub, general store and a tearoom. We stopped in at the pub for lunch. The pub was crowded and we had a long wait for our lunch causing us to miss the 13:05 train back into Pickering. The next train didn't leave till 15:05, so we had plenty of time, and then some, to explore the village. We went into every one of the cheesy souvenir shops, stopped by the vintage 1960s garage (part of the Heartbeat show), had tea and flapjacks in the tearoom and spent quite a bit of time watching the sheep that wander right through the middle of the village. We had been watching the sheep grazing in someone's front yard when the sheep all began to bleat excitedly. Down the road on a tractor came the farmer with a bag of feed. He dumped the feed pellets on the grass across the street and all the sheep gathered for the feast.

The sun never did manage to break through the clouds that day. It was rather windy and oh so cold. Domenica and I both felt sorry for Brenda fishing in some cold and icy stream somewhere. We made sure we didn't miss the 15:05 train into Pickering. Once in Pickering, Domenica began taking some pictures of books in a used paperback book store. The proprietor came outside and cajoled us into entering the store and buying some books. We both made purchases in the store; I found a couple of books I've been looking for for awhile in the charity shops and Domenica found a nice book with social commentary on life in England during the latter part of the 19th century. We wandered into an old church and churchyard in the center of Pickering and stopped in at the Black Swan to warm up. Domenica had a drambuie while I ordered a coffee.

We arrived back at Roger's house at 6 p.m. to pick Brenda up but they had not returned yet. Roger's wife invited us in out of the cold and as we were waiting Roger called to say they were just leaving and would be there in an hour. Domenica and I decided to hop back in the car and explore the area. We drove over to Byland Abbey -- another picturesque ruined abbey. We stood next to a field of sheep and watched as the little lambs were capering and gamboling about. A farmer came by with a sack of feed for the mama sheep. I went into the Abbey Inn to call Brad (I could not get a signal for my cell phone anywhere in the North York Moors). It's a very cozy and comfy pub; I hope to go back there some day with Brad.

We got back to Roger's place at 7:15 p.m. and soon he and Brenda pulled up. She had had a nice day of fishing, despite the weather. She didn't catch much but got the lowdown on fishing practices in the UK. She had been fishing in a chalk stream, usually associated with the south of England, but Driffield Beck is the only chalk stream this far north.

We got back to Harrogate rather late. I had taken the leftover lasagna out of the freezer and reheated it for dinner that night.