Last week I joined my daughter and her husband in north Yorkshire for a couple of days walking.
Hastily booking a B&B in
Goathland, near Whitby, by internet and phone, I had no idea about
Heartbeat - never seen it, hardly heard of it. It's a soap, and Goathland is Aidensfield. There's a Ford Anglia panda car parked outside the post office, the garage supposedly doubles as an undertaker's, and at 10:45 am, when the tripper coaches arrive, the place goes from deserted to packed in ten minutes.
Not unpleasant, all the same. I enjoyed my short stay, especially when we turned our backs on the crowds and headed up on to the moors, disturbing curlews from their babies. We walked to Levisham - had intended to go further, but for the son-in-law's troublesome ankle - and came back on the steam train, the North Yorkshire Moors Railway.
It's a completely authentic steam railway experience, just as I remember it from the 60s - gritty smuts through the window, unexplained halts, seedy carriages, a large empty guard's van. Much more expensive than it ever used to be, too. But pleasant, and calming, and real, somehow. I like to hear the bogey wheels passing over the rail joints, and feel the unevenness of the track bed. A heron standing on the embankment yawned as we passed.
If you ever go, make a point of a pint at the
Birch Hall Inn, Beck Hole. Try the Beckwatter bitter. You'll probably want to sit outside. We sat in and chatted to Neil, the landlord. How he makes it pay I have no idea. Maybe the sweet shop between the two bars keeps it afloat. Beck Hole is strong on quoits, with covered pitches on the green and trophies and team photos in the pub. There's a
Yorkshire darts board in the larger bar.
