Scarborough fair, moor or less

The Scarborough Fair, a popular song by Simon & Garfunkel in the '60's is actually an old English ballad.  The song is a dialogue between a man and a woman each asking the other to do impossible tasks before they can win the other's heart.  For example, the woman must make him a shirt without a seam or needlework, and wash it in a dry empty well.  The man must find her an acre of land between the salt water and the sea sand, plow it with a ram's horn and sow it with one peppercorn.

We decided when we arrived in the Scarborough (Yorkshire)  our own impossible task-to find tasty uniquely English food.  Ten weeks into our travels we've discovered that being together 24 hours a day on the road allows a lot of time for conversation, not that we've utilized it.  But, we did discuss that we should take advantage of our trip to sample local cuisine that we couldn't normally get in the US.  So, after further prolonged debate, we finally decided on "fish and chips".  Patricia did extensive research, apparently the North Yorkshire Moors are one of the best areas in England for fish and chips.  Whitby, which is north of Scarborough is considered the best town in the area for fish and chips and had a take away restaurant that also served a required gluten free style.



Usually, when we eat something questionable on our travels,  especially from a restaurant, we say we'll find out in a couple of hours if we're going to survive.  One of us, the one that has been a vegetarian longer, did not tolerate the fish and chips well, research did not include that traditionally prepared fish and chips are fried in beef tallow. 
The local beer however went down well.  Samuel Smith pints for just over a pound, very tasty.

Poppies on a church

Our Airbnb was situated between a cemetery and a Japanese inspired park.  In England, we  constantly, unintentionally ended up walking through cemeteries because they are attached to churches, which historically were the center of town. The cemeteries seem to be  part of daily life full of dog walkers, commuters, kids and cyclists.  Every cemetery has memorials to locals lost in "the Great War" and WWII.   This is our second time being in  England around Armistice Day and it is really striking how strongly it is observed, you see the symbolic poppies on everyone and everywhere.  This is in contrast to the US Veteran's day celebration which  seems to mainly be celebrated as a three-day mattress sale.





The park's Japanese interpretation is apparently well received, the pond was full of people in dragon paddle boats.  Judging by the number of benches, dragon boat viewing appears to be a popular spectator sport.

On past trips, when we have gone to large decentralized areas like the Badlands, the Lake District, National Parks or Los Angeles, there often isn't just one spot to visit.  So, usually we try to take multiple car, bus or train trips thru these areas to see as much as possible, then sometimes stopping off for hiking or walking around towns.  This was our approach in Yorkshire as well, to best see the towns, the coast, and the Moors.

The Moors and the North Sea coast were lovely, We've had good luck with the North Sea coastal towns in Holland and England.  Scarborough and Whitby (other than lunch) continued the winning streak.  Both, slightly cheesy English beach resort towns with their aging seaside hotels, stone-cottages along winding streets, arcades, lots of ice cream shops and English tourists on Holiday, but this time also with donkey rides on the (sandy, non rocky) beach.  Again, spectacular views in every direction - cliffs, statues, castles and ruins.

In Whitby, the big ruin is the Abbey.  It was here, in Whitby, looking at the sea and the Abby that Bram Stoker created Dracula  (one of Patricia's favorite books).  As with most English (and Irish towns) the literary links are well publicized and Whitby is not only famous for those fish and chips and ocean-front donkeys but also for their Dracula inspired Goth festivals.

But, the big Yorkshire literary attraction is the Brontes.   Anne, the "forgotten, least famous" Bronte,  is buried in Scarborough separated from the rest of the family's graves 70 miles away in Haworth.  Signs all over town direct you to her grave.  We got within 20 yards, but never bothered to check it out.  It would be similar to getting free tickets to a Tito Jackson Concert getting to the parking lot and not going.

If you really like the color of grass, you would love the Moors.   Also, there were lots of sheep.  In the last few weeks we have seen thousands of sheep, and one observation from all this viewing is that it is rare to see a sheep move.  All they do is eat.  I guess we should have tried the local grass.

Our last full Yorkshire day we took another scenic bus ride into the southwest portion of the Moors to visit the towns of Pickering and Helmsley.  Helmsley was fine, but not terribly distinct.  Pickering, however, was a highlight.  We ended up hiking following some very detailed directions which included "walk for awhile then turn left at an elegant house" and "pass a kissing gate but don't turn at that one, go through the sturdier one further down". We meandered (the directions had no distances noted) through a wooded area into a field of sheep, and flushing about 30-40 pheasant and grouse from the underbrush. It was very entertaining watching them scatter across the fields.  Our Wild Kingdom experience continued as one renegade sheep did not appreciate us disturbing it while it was eating some choice grain. It  stood it's ground stomping its feet , with a slightly hostile  stare down, before remembering it was a sheep and trotted back to the flock who were watching it all in disbelief from a few yards away. Then they all went back to eating. Apparently, it's not recommended to make prolonged eye contact with sheep.

The bus ride back continued our flirting with danger as we were the only adults on the top of the  double decker bus with a full load of boisterous adolescents returning from school, but we just averted our eyes and looked out the window at the green fields and rolling hills and made it back safely.

This week's photo of a topless old man looking out window contemplating his life

Note: Topless old men are endangered.  They are elusive, camera shy, and sightings are becoming rarer.  They only seem to be active and spotted at dawn or dusk.  We will continue to try to document their existentialism and hope for a grant to further our studies.