Whitby

I really liked Whitby. The curator at the Captain Cook museum there had an interesting necklace on that was a small picture of Whitby Abbey. We asked her about it and she explained, 'I don't travel very far but my mother always told me that if you can't see the Abbey, then you are lost. So she gave me this so I could travel more.' I really loved this small town sentiment. And how awesome is a town that you'd want to carry a piece of it around with you everywhere? Well, very awesome, it turns out.
Well, maybe it didn't have any more or less than any number of seaside towns in the UK; an old church, beach, lifeboat, water, crappy novelty stores, gambling. But it must have caught me on a good day. I can be bought with sand, sun, and a good fish and chips.
Whitby has charm. Despite all the usual beachy stuff, the town exuded charm. We visited the abbey in the morning, and that is simply beautiful. A bit drafty, but lovely, and old! 13th century buildings are on every corner in this country.
When we had our fill of monastic life, we headed into town and miraculously found a parking spot. We strolled along the harbor taking in the sights and sounds of a fishing community. Our first stop was the RNLI museum which was great for squirrels like me. It had old boats, a cork life vest and tales of rescue adventures on the high seas.
We put our feet in the ocean and immediately knew why only a handful of kids were swimming. It was cold! With seawater soaking our pant cuffs and our feet coated in sand, we headed back into town. I walked along the shore to work out what the small, brightly colored houses were. It seems stupid that I'd never seem before, but how clever to rent out little chalets for the weekend and at a hefty price, I'm sure.
I caught up with Mom and Dad in time to visit the Captain Cook museum. Cook led landmark expeditions to the North pole, Alaska, Australia, Hawaii, and many other places. The coolest thing there (other than loads of old maps) was a drawing of Horatio Nelson beating a polar bear with the butt of his rifle. What a bad ass image.
We even had time to gamble away a few 2 pence pieces, which is never fruitful, but fun. Since the sun pretty much never sets these days we had time to enjoy our drive through the North York Moors on the way to Dalton, our very unlikely place to stay for the evening.