The Sites
The first thing we wanted to see was Whitby Abbey – the ruined abbey that lords high over Whitby, impressive with its dark stones and tall, empty windows. The current abbey, founded by Benedictine monks, dates from 1220. However, an abbey has been on the site since the 7th century, when St. Hilda founded an abbey for both men and women (parts of the original abbey still exist, but are off-limits to visitors).
We headed out for the Abbey by strolling south from our B&B along the North Promenade overlooking the beach and the churning North Sea. As we turned a gentle corner we saw Whitby Abbey for the first time. It’s an amazing sight. We’d learned that Bram Stoker wrote Dracula while living in Whitby, and you can see how the Abbey must have inspired him. Stoker was so taken with Whitby and the abbey that he has Dracula arrive in England via a shipwreck on Whitby’s shore. He enters the country as a big black dog that runs up the long stairway from the river to the abbey.
The Dracula myth permeates Whitby. As we made our way to the Abbey, we passed a storefront containing the “Dracula Experience.” The Dracula Experience is… well, it’s hard to determine just what the Dracula experience is. Is it a museum, maybe? No. Is it a shop selling Dracula knick-knacks? No. We peeked in there and it appeared to be some kind of state fair-type huckster attraction – complete with a dummy Dracula who rose up from his coffin and descended into it again – over and over. The Dracula Experience claims to be the most popular attraction in Whitby, and it did fit right in on the splashy, touristy waterfront. But we wanted the authentic Dracula experience, so we continued our ramble through town, across the river, and up the steps (the same steps that Dracula ran up as a dog!) to the abbey.
On the way we noticed that the town was full of Goths – people who love the Dracula legend so much that they dress all in black, wear white make-up, and listen endlessly to Bauhaus and other gothic bands. On this morning we saw several; they were mostly hanging out at the abbey and in the cemetery in front of St. Mary’s Church. I was disappointed to learn that we were weeks early for the upcoming Dracula Festival – for which Goths from all over Europe and the world descend on Whitby. Irene told us that, as a B&B owner, she and Neve really enjoyed having Goths as guests. “We love the Goths, don’t we Neve? There’re very polite and they always call ahead,” she said.
By this time we had reached St. Mary’s Church and were having fun checking out the view, people-watching, and poking around in St. Mary’s cemetery (the most common form of death for sea-based Whitby was drowning). We were not able to enter the church, however, because there was some kind of ceremony going on.
Then on to our goal: Whitby Abbey. Up close Whitby Abbey was just as awesome as from a distance. Only now we could see the Abbey from the other perspective – with the North Sea as a backdrop instead of the rolling countryside. It’s hard to imagine how hard life must have been, especially in the winter, for the monks who lived here, but with the rain and the wind coming over the cold sea I got a small taste. It could have been on a day like this when Dracula’s boat crashed and he arrived in England. As we were leaving, I could not help but buy a copy of Dracula. How many chances do you have to buy a work of art at the point of its inspiration?
After some lunch at a nearby teahouse, we started down the Cleveland Way – the path that follows the North Sea cliffs to Robin Hood’s Bay, a small village about five miles to the south. The sun came out, and we were having a great time walking through farmer’s fields and saying hello to other walkers when our hiking plans were thwarted. The rain started back up. It got to be too hard to comfortably walk, so we decided to spend the rest afternoon looking through Whitby’s shops instead.
In Whitby it’s all about the Jet. Jet, a type of polished black stone, is on sale everywhere. It seems like nearly every shop has a sign saying “We have Whitby Jet!” And they do. We decided to buy a few pairs of earrings for gifts and had many, many choices of where to buy them. (We noticed that most of the Goths had Whitby Jet earrings, so we felt very up to date on gothic style. We could not figure our where to buy those long flowing black capes, though.)
By late afternoon Whitby was packed with day-trippers – shopping, munching fish and chips, checking out the waterfront attractions – and staring at the Goths. It was hard to get back across the bridge against the crush of people going back and forth. We found refuge by hiking, under the now less-threatening skies, along the beach and the northern part of the Cleveland Way up the coast until it got too dark to see.
I Love Whitby!
My breakfast companions back in 1989 were right: Whitby is a great town and a fun place to visit. We had had a great visit, but I needed one thing to top it off. I needed a souvenir, and I knew just the thing. I kept my eyes open all day and had not seen one, but as we were walking home I noticed a shopkeeper pulling in her postcard racks and closing up for the day. I dashed across the street and was very pleased that she had just what I was looking for: a white post card emblazoned only with the words “I LOVE WHITBY!”
Questions?
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