Using the shower facilities at Whitby was a real pleasure. The roof light let loads of daylight in and gave the whole space a sense of light and airiness. This is in contrast to the usual moist laden air and fight against mould..
Leaving the entrance to Whitby was like going out into the North sea. OK so I know it is the North Sea, but you can see how quickly and easily a swell and a chop can develop. The wind was only a force3/4 but as it was an onshore North Easterly and the approach to the harbour is shallow then quite a swell develops, particularly on the ebb.
I was the last of 5 boats that had come through the swing bridge at 12.30 and out of the entrance.kelvin was leading the pack. All of us were then being thrown about as we tried to raise sail. The Dutch crew n a Feeling 326 were unlucky to have the main halliard get caught on something, so one of them proceeded to be lifted up the mast to sort it out. That's a job which I find bad enough on a mooring in flat water. Out there in those conditions its far worse.
Eventually we were all sorted out and 4 of us seemed to be headed in the same direction. The timing restrictions on the swing bridge meant that there was only a 4 hour favourable south going tide, so there weren't a lot of options of where to go. Scarborough was 16nm, Bridlington a drying harbour 35nm or Grimsby 66nm. We all seemed to have made the same decision to do the short leg, So there was another opportunity to pit Hylje's performance against a range of other boats.
The Centurion 32 drew ahead slowly. I overtook Kelvin's Sadler and the Feeling never really recovered its lost ground. The wind speed varied but remained light and I was just about level with the Centurion as he started his engine to round the headland to enter Scarborough. I think that the thing which gave me the edge was in poling out the genoa.Whatever the reason it left with a glow of satisfaction.Conversely, if I was an owner of one of the larger boats I'd be feeling a bit peeved.
There are some newish pontoons in the inner harbour. These replace the interesting arrangements in the outer harbour. Local boats moor between posts, which are part of a complicated bespoke frame so when the tide goes out they are left high out of the water.The old pontoons next to the lighthouse don't go up and down, so the boats dry out alongside them.
The town has the usual amusement tat along the front. There is a shopfront which offers a ghost type ride behind and another place selling guns, crossbows, swords and other weaponry. It must get pretty rough here on a friday night!
Its not all chips and candyfloss though. there is a decent sized town and up a back street I came across the Blandscliff gallery and Studio. Though it seemed closed the artist owner opened up and let me in. Shirley Sheppard runs the place with her husband. They are both members of the local sailing club so was keen to tell me about all the best bits in the town. These seemed to extend to the gardens which were laid out by the Victorians, the Stephen Joseph Theatre, and the the two main art galleries. She had convinced me that it was worth spending a day here.
Shirley was an Aussie and in her twenties had spent time in the Panama canal, helping boats through, where you need 4 people to man the lines. There were endless opportunities to join boats as crew because existing crew members tended to get off to explore south America. She is still tempted to go back theatre sometime to see where she may end up.She completed her tourism guide of Scarborough by telling me that the imposing old hotel is the largest brick building in Europe. It has no steel or concrete frame. It was built entirely from bricks.
On the walk back trough the chippy bit of town I came across " tacky tees", which sells an interesting range of tee shirts.
This town is an amazing mix of contrasts. Back on the quay side there is an information board about Albert Strange (1855-1917). He was the Head of the Government sponsored School of Art in Scarborough from 1882-1917. In his spare time he designed 150 boats, which are judged to be classics. How did people use to become such experts in diverse fields back then?
Kelvin entertained me in the pub later. He talked about the 30 odd counties he had worked in. Whilst in Russia, he told workers that the English name for a spanner was " football pitch" and the name for an Allen Key was " glass". he had to make notes of the wrong words he had provided, so that he always used the right wrong words. The introduction of a translator brought an end to the game. I reckon he played a small but significant part in the collapse of the USSR. It was a bit like injecting a software virus.
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