Day 25: North York Moors - Skinningrove

After yesterday's thrashing by the cliffs, today we decided to take it easier. Or well, Daddy Edu decided... I would have been ready at eight, but I'm not going to spoil his fun of taking it slow. We left almost at twelve from the place where we had spent a quiet night, on our forgotten road with postcard views and without a single car passing.

The plan was to visit a place with a fairy tale name: Robin Hood's Bay. I was expecting flying arrows and bags of gold, but what there were were cars, many cars, and people. First we went by car to the town, but seeing the chaos in the car parks - and that they were paid - we turned around. About two kilometers away we found a place where you could park for free, although with a sign asking for a donation. But of course, as we don't have a single English coin (neither fake nor real), we couldn't leave anything in the mailbox. Anyway, that free parking came with a catch: to get to the town you had to go down a very long hill... and on the way back, go up it. And I'm not exaggerating. Halfway down I thought we were going to need a sherpa.

The town was packed. Everyone crammed on the main street, which goes down from the new part of the town to the sea. Apart from the crowds, there was also low tide, so half of Yorkshire seemed to be walking on what they call a beach and I call a wet mudflat with stones. Luckily, in the narrowest alleys there were fewer humans and the walk was quite pleasant. The town is one of those that could be used for a frozen fish advertisement, with cramped houses, pastel colors and roofs twisted by the north wind.

After watching dozens of tourists devouring fish and chips as if there were no tomorrow, we decided to go back to the car. The way back uphill confirmed my suspicions: this is not a town, it's a test of endurance.

The next stop was Whitby. We parked in a quiet place to eat - because if we waited any longer, hunger was going to make us bite traffic signs - and then, around five o'clock, we went to Aldi for supplies (i.e. food for me). Already with the pantry full, we went up to see Whitby Abbey.

Whitby Abbey is a gigantic ruined church, located on top of a cliff overlooking the North Sea. Its remains are impressive, even to those who don't know much about old stones. It was one of the most important abbeys in the north of England in the Middle Ages, a powerful religious center with a lot of influence. But everything fell apart in the 16th century, when Henry VIII quarreled with the Pope and ordered all the monasteries in the country to be closed and plundered. Since then, what remains of the abbey has been resisting as best it can, against the wind, the rain and the tourists with cameras.

We were lucky with the weather: although the sky was cloudy, there was no fog. Ideal for exploring without getting my snout wet and enjoying the stunning views from the top of the cliff.

We arrived after six o'clock, so the car park was free (miracle), but the abbey grounds were already closed. Even so, we took a walk outside. Everything is surrounded by a wall so high and serious that it would make the Berlin Wall jealous. And it's not a fence, no sir, it's a wall that makes you feel as if you were spying on something forbidden. Even so, Daddy Edu managed to take some pretty cool photos from the other side of the wall. And honestly, I don't know if it would have been worth paying to go in, because it didn't seem that there was much more to see inside than what we could already see from outside.

After going around the grounds like good budget-conscious tourists, we went back to the car and the final mission of the day began: finding a place to sleep. We passed a couple of places that didn't convince us and ended up in Skinningrove. We parked in the harbor, in a car park with fishing boats and, above all, a lot of other vehicles parked like sardines in a tin - because the motorhomes here are almost door to door. This is starting to look like a travelling festival, but there's a good atmosphere.

As soon as we arrived, a very talkative man approached Daddy Edu. His name is Zarren and he was impressed with our camper. He made us feel as if we had arrived in a spaceship. Next to us are our neighbors, who also seem quite nice. The neighbor lady even speaks Spanish because she is a teacher. I just limited myself to being friendly with the dogs in the area and discreetly marking territory between wheel and wheel.

When night fell, we got into the camper. Here we are, ready to sleep with the sound of the sea in the background and the distant smell of fish. And hopefully, without vampires tonight.