Whether it was by uncanny foresight on the part of the organisers, Pauline and Diana, or mere serendipity, our group holiday began on the very day that Covid restrictions were eased for hospitality venues. The arrival of our group of twenty walkers marked the first welcome that the Whitby HF house staff had for guests after a long closure. The weather omens weren’t good as severe storms had been forecast for the north of the country; happily, they mostly blew themselves out in the north-west, leaving us with – generally, though there is one exception – enjoyable weather for the walks.
HF had amended the normal walk menu for our party: the long walks were now eight or ten miles, and at the bottom of the list were short walks of four or five miles for those of our members more comfortable with those. Of necessity many walks began at the house as bus travel presented some difficulties with continued social distancing. But none of that could detract from the excitement of the countryside and the scenery. The Cleveland Way National Trail follows the North Yorkshire coastline for many miles, and loops along the northern edge of the North York Moors plateau. Coastal walks – some, every bit as demandingly hilly as the Cornish coast – provided glorious views of cliffs and bays and seabird colonies with sheep pastures inland; paths through mixed undulating woodland and minor river valleys broke up the littoral; unhappily the Covid travel restrictions meant that there were no high level walks on the moor itself.
What promised to be the highlight walk of the week was on the one day when the weather’s fury intervened. Roseberry Topping is an inverted ice cream cone of a hill, a climb with wide views somewhat dulled on the day by approaching mist. From there was what promised to be an exhilarating walk along the scarp of the moor, with its heather cover and its rough cliffs to leeward, and the pastural plain below to windward. But visibility was almost zero, the rain was horizontal, and Great Ayton’s cafés at walk’s end were a warming relief from a final dispiriting trudge.
As great a pleasure as the walking was the group social activity. Our time in the bar after dinner was lively, sharing our thoughts on everything, discovering local alcohol, planning activities and thinking how the general membership of PVR could benefit from what we had learnt from other walkers staying at the house.
But not all was serious: there were amusing moments: the inexperienced chef who interpreted a BLT as a bacon, cabbage leaf and tomato sandwich; the PVR member sampling local ice-cream expecting three small helpings, then photographed with a tub overflowing with scoops the size of tennis balls; PVR’s rather dubious distinction as the group that drank the bar out of local beer and gin (no names, but the gin may have been a single-handed effort!).
Above all, it was fun. And many thanks to those who made it so, from organisers to fellow members. Let’s do it again. Soon.