Clooties and a stone circle, a route quandary, mines and rainbow houses.
Kissed by the clouds under Hungry Hill, one more valley and another, a treat for the feet and a humongous ice-cream.
Climbing the Sugar Loaf, into the mist, a disturbing cache, an apparition, sleeping under Hungry Hill.
Ice-cream, chips and amusement arcades cheek by jowl with hidden heritage. Waiting for buses, trains and planes. Manchester airport mayhem. Joining the Front Row Forwards
A damp day in Whitby, chasing a wild goose and sketching, sketching, sketching.
Whitby kippers, wet cliffs, a mad bull, hi-viz kids and happy holiday memories. The Ends of the Earth and an ending for me too.
I hike on down the coast, cross the sands, pass Hob Holes, clamber up a ravine and see a different side of Whitby.
Another sad memorial, Kittiwakes and Fulmars, Alfred the Great, the highest cliffs in England, a personal milestone and getting into tangles in a WW1 billet.
Up the Topping and under the viaduct. From moors and scarps to suburbs and the sea. Sleeping in the Nineteenth Century.
Bleak moorland, a chill wind and never ending tracks. Ancient boundary stones and tumuli. Grouse with their chicks who don’t yet know about the Glorious Twelfth. Deep thought, a sad memorial, leaving a wish and enjoying a warm tomb.