Out of the flat lands and across the moors

Day 10 and 11 – Yorkshire and County Durham

Friday saw me leave Lincolnshire for Yorkshire. I’ve always wanted to cross the Humber Bridge and I was quite happy to pay the 1.50 it costs to get into what for the the sake of my trip counts as Yorkshire.
Bear in mind I’m touring the 39 historic counties, not the ceremonial counties invented by those Johnny-cum-lately Victorians or the nonsense counties that include all the metropolitan counties, boroughs and the god forsaken unitary authorities. I refuse to camp in Greater Manchester or whatever the others are. However, I will happily visit Cheshire, of which Manchester used to be a part. Anyway, rant over.

So I crossed the Humber into Yorkshire and managed to get some great pictures of the bridge. If you want to see the pictures check out my Twitter feed or, easier, go to my Facebook profile. I’m not fussy, I accept anybody who friends me or just visit if you don’t have an account (or would rather not be seen to be associated with me), it’s all set to public so anybody can see the posts.

On from the Humber I headed for Whitby (742 total miles), by way of Scarborough but I only got out of the car to buy a dreadful coffee so I can’t speak for the place. Whitby, however, was delightful. I mooched around the famous Abbey and even visited the house that held the infamous Whitby Conclave of 1981 though few have really heard of it. (Apparently Bram Stoker actually lived next door with all the Gothic turrets and the like rather than in number 55 as we were told years ago.)

Saturday saw me rise from Whitby and head for Durham, from where I write this. On the way I crossed the river Tees by the famous Transporter Bridge that I thought closed down years ago so I was delighted. Again see Twitter of Facebook for pictures of the brilliant contraption.

Later I arrived in Durham (811 miles), set up camp and went out to dinner in Durham City which is glorious, pictures on Facebook, Twitter, yada, yada, ya… Finally the day was topped by a splendid dinner the a fine Italian restaurant Capriccio where I managed to avoid all the cliches and the chicken was better than I’ve had in a long, long time.

And so to bed with a fleece liner in the sleeping bag I think as it’s going to be cold tonight.

Day 12

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