The Yorkshire weather took a dramatic turn for the worse on the second day of our stay. We awoke to howling winds, pouring rain and temperatures more akin to December than July. Husband had spotted an Iron Stone Mine on the drive back yesterday, we figured we might as well be underground in this weather so headed there. Everyone else had the same idea – all tours were fully booked until the last one later in the afternoon. We signed up for this and set off for nearby Runswick Bay instead.
I had thought about visiting this place later in the day “if” the weather cleared. It became obvious that wasn’t on the cards, we decided we might as well wrap up warm and go anyway – hardy sorts we didn’t want to let that weather beat us.
Misty and miserable when we arrived, Runswick Bay was nevertheless spectacular. The road into the little village dips all of a sudden to reveal a huddle of picture postcard perfect cottages and the most beautiful bay. The setting, even on such a wet and windy day is idyllic.
We parked, pulled on hiking boots and raincoats and set off to explore. Bracing to say the least, we needed to jump up and down to keep warm reading the map.
We just wandered. The village is lovely, loads of tiny paths to explore but we were drawn to the beach.
We took lots of pictures of a lovely thatched white cottage which we later learned was the former coastguard’s house.
Strolling along the sands with the wind at our backs didn’t actually feel too bad.
There are some interesting cliffs and holes in the cliffs – we explored a bit and went into some of them. These are known locally as “Hob Holes” – small caves where people once thought hobgoblins lived.
One hobgoblin acquired a reputation for curing whooping cough. Mothers took their ailing children here and called out a rhyme outside the cave asking to be healed.
We discovered a little waterfall and then walked nearly the whole length of the sandy beach.
A quicker walk back though as the tide was coming in.
The waves were ferocious, the wind was in our faces on the way back and with that and the sand and sea spray blowing it was hard going.
We had a last look at the village and its houses perched on the narrow terraces looking out to sea. Apparently in the spring storms of 1682 the whole village sank towards the sea. All the residents escaped – they were attending a funeral out of the village.
We climbed back into the car, soaked through and freezing cold but still glad we had come to this beautiful place and explored the lovely bay.