Day 24: Scarborough - North York Moors

This morning, we woke up in the car park where we spent the night with four other campervans. Martín, the one with the ham from last night, was still in his cave when we started to move. It was raining a little, so we took it easy, without rushing, without haste, without breakfast. Three of the vans left early, one of them with a generator that, thankfully, had already stopped its morning concert.

When the rain stopped, around half past nine, we set off. As for knocking on Martín's door... well, no, he might still be in his underpants or composing operas. Our destination: Scarborough. It's a charming coastal town with two bays: the North and the South, separated by a hill with a ruined castle that dominates the whole panorama as if watching over the seagulls. We parked in a free spot near the North Bay, with a two-hour limit using that blue disc that they use here instead of sundials. Just a little further down, you had to pay, so we took advantage and were clever.

We explored the city on foot. We went up to Scarborough Castle, which is quite impressive from the outside. We didn't go in, because paying ten pounds to see more stones, when we could see them from the path... well, no. But the views from up there are picture-postcard perfect: the two bays, the roofs of Scarborough, and the sea there, as if saying "I've been here for more centuries than that castle." We went down a little path to St Mary's Church, which seems to be taken from a mystery movie, with its cemetery included. Anne Brontë, one of the writing sisters, is buried there. The headstone was peaceful, with no people taking selfies on top, which is a lot to ask for.

Then we went to Peasholm Park, an Asian-style theme park. It has pagodas, a pond, and dragon-shaped boats that you have to pedal, which seems disrespectful to the dragon, who should fly or breathe fire, but hey. The best thing was to see the humans organized on benches as if the pond were a theater, waiting for something to happen... and what happened was people pedaling aimlessly. Sometimes I think we don't understand the same concept of "fun." On the way back to the car we passed the beach. It wasn't hot enough to lie down like sardines, but there were a lot of humans playing, shouting, throwing balls (but not for me!) and some dogs running as if they had springs on their legs. We almost ran out of our two-hour disc-trap, and we took the car north, towards the North York Moors.

We ate in a small car park and rested a bit. And then, feeling fresher, around five o'clock, we arrived in Ravenscar, which sounds like a place where mysterious things happen, but in reality, it is a quiet little village where one of the most famous routes in the north of England begins: the Cleveland Way. This path goes along the cliffs, bordering the entire coast. It's one of those paths where every curve is a postcard and every slope is a test of love for hiking. On our stretch, we passed through a place called Peak Alum Works, which is a complex of ruins of what was an amazing industry: there they extracted alum, a mineral that was used to fix the colors in fabrics. Centuries ago, that was like a nuclear power plant for dye. Today, the remains are left, but the landscape still smells of history. We didn't reach Robin Hood's Bay, but Boggle Hole. On the way, we saw sheep, more cliffs, the sea on the right all the time, and the odd flower that Dad said not to touch with my nose. On the way back, we changed routes and took a green path, an old railway track converted into a walk. It's almost flat and perfect for running, if it weren't for Dad saying that we have to conserve energy for dinner. In total, we did almost 10 kilometers, and at quarter past eight, we returned to the car, our paws already smoking.

It was time to find a place to sleep, and things got interesting. We looked at four places on Park4Night, and they all had more traffic than the M-30 at rush hour. This is starting to look a bit like Norway, not because of the landscape but because of the invasion of campervans and campers taking up all the spots before you have time to say "airplane mode." But the first one we saw convinced us: we parked a little further away from the exact point and here we are. We are next to an old road, now without traffic, near a bigger one that you can hear in the distance but can't see. The best thing: breathtaking views and a sunset that looked like it was painted with watercolor by a romantic artist with free time. And now... to rest. Tomorrow, more paws, more views, and, hopefully, fewer humans in dragon-shaped boats.