15 November 2010

Middlesborough to Bridlington

For some reason I dont have the most important photos on my camera. The ones that show the people we have met on the trip are the ones which are important. Maria's mother, always filled with inate Irish common sense and goodness used to say "It doesnt matter where you are, it is who you are with that matters!" So it is. I therefore will change these scenes when I can get my hands on photos that show the important human stars of the trip. (The new pic arrives and this shows the reception committee at Bridlington! - Sorry Whitby!)
This penultimate day is both long and the route across the N yorks Moors National Park has plenty of hills to cope with. Not only that, I get my third puncture of the trip while on the Moors. No worries, I change it out for the spare and am up and running again without much delay. We take tea just on the northern side of Whitby and after that agree to meet at the North Bay at Scarborough for lunch. Terry is fortunate in getting a prime parking place overlooking the Bay but the considerable amount of sand on the road attests to the stormy weather of the recent days and the seas that have crashed over the sea walls here.
I leave for the last 20 or so miles of the day to Brid and Terry gives me a friendly honk as he passes, a few miles outside of Scarborough. He is no sooner out of site when a bang from the front tyre again serves nottice of another puncture. I am instantly chastised and cursing, knowing that I am in trouble this time, because although I've plenty of spares in the car, I forgot to replace the one in my rucksack after this morning's blow-out. Very stupid!
My call to Terry goes streaight to voicemail and all I can do is to walk the several hundred yards to the next roundabout and wait for him to pick up the call and get back to me. Again, he comes to the rescue and calls after 15 or so minutes to tell me that he is on the way back with the spare Trek.
Our welcome in Bridlington is as warrm as they come. A lovely crowd and of course I really am coming home now, with lots of earthy Hull accents, including that of the PP Fr David Grant who hails from Holderness Road. I have been away from Hull long enough to to forgive him (as a West Hull boy) for that!! It was a wonderful way to spend our last evening of the trip in such great company. Thanks too to Steve at the Naked Fish restaurant in Brid for giving us such good food without charge. I should add that in addition, the kind lady at our caravan site in Sewerby declined to accept payment when she learned that we are making the trip on behalf of AOS.
The downside of the evening is that the weather is getting worse and looking at the forecast for our final stage is looking really ugly.

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