Preamble

We had thought that Uncle Brian and Dad's next holiday, would have been a return visit to the Peebles Hotel Hydro, but for various reasons this turned out not to be the case. Instead, after many years, they decided to revisit the North Yorkshire Moors, staying again in Goathland, but at a different hotel.

When he heard, Scooter remarked to his best pal Higson (usually known as Higgy), "they're bound to go on the North Yorks Moors Railway, so that will mean we will be going with them. It will be great to ride it again too, especially as the trains now run into Whitby."

"As the member bear I will be particularly proud", replied Higgy excitedly. "It will be great for the rest of our railway bear pals, Chuffer, Dale and Dunstan, as they have never been before", he went on.

"I wonder who else will be going too?", mused Scooter.

"Fred and Gladly for certain, as being the Chief Hug Bears, they always go. I guess too, that Fletcher will be with us, as coming from Armathwaite Hall Hotel, he will be checking out the hotel in Goathland", replied Higgy.

"I'm sure you're right", said Scooter. "As for the rest we will just have to wait and see."

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The journey to Goathland

This was all a few weeks before, so we had to wait patiently for the day of departure to arrive, which rather unusually was a Sunday.

We heard Fred, asking his Uncle Gerry, "why?"

"It is because the hotel does not have a lift, so going on Sunday means we can have a room on the first floor so that your Dad only has to climb one flight of stairs."

The luggage was carried out and stowed in the boot, then Dad settled us on the back seat. Higgy had been right about who was joining the railway bears, and in addition our pals Vik and Marty went too. Vik because he came from York, which is not all that far from Goathland, and Marty, our donkey pal from Cyprus, as Dad thought that one non bear should go.

As we drove on our way, Gladly said, "which way are we going, Dad."

The scenic route through the Yorkshire Dales", replied Dad.

"Let's hope he does not start naming all the hills he and STAG have climbed, like he does in the Lake District", yawned Fred.

Up the Lune Valley then to Ingleton, famous for its waterfalls

Fletcher remarked, "they will be pretty low after all the dry weather."

The road from here was very familiar to Dad and STAG, having been driven many times on journeys to meet Uncle Bob for walks.

Suddenly Dunstan called out, "look there is Ribblehead Viaduct on the Settle-Carlisle line. Isn't it magnificent."

"Yes", agreed Dale, " We will be going over that in about a months time on that steam train special."

"The hill behind is Whernside, the highest in the Yorkshire Dales", added Dad.

He's off", said Fred. " I knew he could not resist for long."

Not long after this Dad pulled off the road at a farmhouse. "This is the home of Eileen's Cakes, he announced. I haven't called for ages so I had better show my face." It was just as well as Eileen was wondering if Dad and Uncle Brian were all right. As well as scrumptious cakes like chocolate and orange, she makes scones too, fruit and cheese, the latter being particularly tasty. An order for three cakes and a dozen each of the scones was placed for collection on our return on Thursday.

We were soon at Hawes, and then it was along Wensleydale passing through Aysgarth where there are famous waterfalls too. Then through the villages of Swinithwaite and West Witton to Wensley. This gives its name to the dale. Here we turned right to cut a corner, to join the road from Leyburn to Masham. They had planned to have lunch in Masham, but events beyond their control were to change this. A few miles from Masham, rounding a corner we were stopped behind a line of traffic.

Looking ahead, Fred shouted, "look there is a helicopter just taking off."

Eagle eyed, Gladly replied, "it is the Great North Air Ambulance , I have seen a few programmes on television recently that has featured it."

We were all excited to see it, non more so than Gladly, but we were saddened too, as we knew that there must have been an accident, and someone, possibly seriously injured, was having to be flown to hospital. The road was completely closed, so we had to turn back.

Dad suggested that it might be as well to go to the cafe at Jervaulx Abbey for lunch, to allow time for the road to reopen. A toasted ciabatta sandwich and tea fortified them. On towards Masham again, but a flash of headlights from an oncoming car indicated the road was still closed. So, Dad employed a detour on back lanes that he knew from the last time he had met Uncle Bob for a walk in Nidderdale. This took us though the pretty villages of Healey and Fearby. They are quite charming and we and Uncle Brian would not have seen them otherwise. So finally we were at Masham. Home of the breweries of Theakstons and Black Sheep. Both whose ales Dad and Uncle Brian are partial to.

It was across country now to the market town of Thirsk, before crossing the plain, to climb the steep winding road of Sutton Bank. Next was the pretty town of Helmsley, then on to Pickering, another lovely market town. All along we had thought how beautiful and mellow is the stone used in the houses.

"Where now?", asked Chuffer.

"We take the road towards Whitby that climbs up onto the moors", replied Uncle Brian.

As we drove along, suddenly a large concrete looking building came into view on the moors to the right. "Whatever is that", said Marty.

"It is the Fylingdales early warning and listening station", replied Higgy knowingly.

Soon now we took the turning on the left signed Goathland. Dropping down we first saw the church, opposite which was the Mallyan Spout Hotel, where we were staying.

The window of our room is first floor on the right. Dad brought in the luggage, and we all trooped in. There was a large window sill where most of us settled, Fred and Glad bagging the easy chair. It had been a long journey, made more so by the detour, so we and Uncle Brian just wanted to rest and relax. Dad however was restless.

"For heaven's sake, go for a walk and leave us to peace and quiet", said Gladly.

"While you're at it you can take some pictures and do the next part of our tale", added Fred, yawning loudly.

Dad's tale of Sunday afternoon

The hotel takes its name from the waterfall in the valley behind. It was in 1993 that I first went to see it with Brian, so a revisit was the first thing I decided to do this afternoon. A gate at the side of the hotel gives access to a path that descended in large steps for the most part, down to the West Beck. At the t-junction by the beck, I went right for about 500 yards, clambering over the rocks for the last part. The waterfall is on the left dropping some 60 feet. Despite the dry weather it still made an impressive sight.

Although I did not follow it, the path continues alongside the West Beck that curves right a this point. It made a nice pastoral scene.

After viewing the scene for a few minutes more, I retraced my steps to the path junction and climbed steadily to the hotel. With time to spare and not wanting to disturb the Lads and Brian, I walked to the centre of the village, that was as usual busy with tourists. This is because in the television series Heartbeat, it is Aidensfield. Although the series is no longer made, many tourists are attracted to Goathland, to see the sights like the shop.

Outside is parked a police Ford Anglia, used in the series. This is now an exhibit to raise money for charity.

A little further along the road towards the station is the Goathland Hotel, where Brian and I stayed in 1993. In Heartbeat this was the Aidensfield Arms, and filming in the bar etc regularly took place here.

In Heartbeat, Bernie Scripps is the garage owner and funeral director. His premises are opposite the Goathland Hotel. Since filming has ceased it is now more of a souvenir shop.

So, having done the Heartbeat tour, I rounded the corner, where the wide verges, the property of the Duchy of Lancaster, stretch away towards the hotel.

They are kept neat, for the most part, by the sheep that wander freely about the village completely oblivious to the traffic. It is the cars and other vehicles that have to give way.

Having told Brian and the Lads about what I had seen, I then rested before changing for dinner. The Mallyan Spout Hotel is excellent in every respect, not least for the delicious gourmet food we enjoyed each evening.

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Monday

"Hi, I'm Fred."

With my brother Gladly and our pals Fletcher, Marty and Vik, we went out to enjoy the fresh sea air at the coast.

"What is the plan Uncle Gerry?"

"I am hoping to take you and your Dad to see the pretty little harbour of Staithes, just north of Whitby."

So after breakfast off we went driving down through Goathland, so we saw all the places associated with Heartbeat, that Uncle Gerry has described above. Then joining the main road we turned north to pass through Sleights.

Suddenly, Vik called out, "did you see that sign."

"Yes", replied Fletcher. "It pointed to a place called Ugglebarnby."

"What a glorious name", I added.

Skirting Whitby, it was then to Sandsend, where the cliffs, called Sandsend Ness as very imposing.

Looking south, the beach stretched away to Whitby, the abbey ruins standing out on the headland.

Then the road cut inland passing Ellerby and Hinderwell and to Staithes, but Uncle Gerry drove right past the sign.

"You've missed the turning Dad", called out Gladly.

"Yes I know, but the car park is at the top of a steep hill and Uncle Brian cannot manage the walk. Instead we are going to Cowbar where hopefully we can park and then walk across the bridge to Staithes", Dad replied.

It seemed like a good plan, but the best laid plans...etc.

At Cowbar we were faced with a sign saying access is by permit only. Nevertheless Uncle Gerry's plan was to drive down, drop Dad off, then park at the top and walk down. This would have been fine, but for works that were going on. Uncle Gerry walked down to find the road blocked by a trailer, and as a result he would not be able to turn the car round. So the idea had to be abandoned.

So instead they decided to return to Sandsend where we could park easily. It was lunch time, so Dad and Uncle Gerry with us in tow, set off to walk along the front to a cafe. Part way Dad wanted to rest so we took the opportunity to sit in the stern of a little boat called Andrew, for our picture.

Vik, Gladly, me, Fletcher, with Marty in front

Here the road does a loop as it crosses the estuary of the Row Beck, seen here with the pretty houses and The Hart Inn.

Fairly soon now we reached the Sandside Cafe, and none to soon for my Dad, as it had been further to walk than it initially seemed.

We got a table tucked in the corner of the railed seating area, and we settled on the seat looking out to sea. It was sunny and warm, and the Whitby crab sandwiches were delicious. Dad and Uncle Gerry had them too, with pots of tea. My Dad then had a sausage roll, while Uncle Gerry had a large piece of cake. No surprise there I thought.

We were reluctant to leave, so idyllic was it here, but the cafe was busy all the time and it would not have been right to hog the table any longer. The loo was the next stop, the downside being that it was even further along the front away from the car. Oh dear, I thought my Dad will never manage to walk back.

As we got there Uncle Gerry said, "there is a seat here. You sit here while I go and get the car and pick you up."

"Thanks", replied Dad.

We stayed with him too. A couple who were waiting for the bus to Whitby (they had walked along the beach from there this morning), sat and chatted to Dad, so he was not short of company.

We now made our way back to Goathland, visiting the church.

St Mary's Church is squat, but nevertheless a lovely building. It is built from sandstone from a nearby quarry.

The first church (St Mary's Chapel) stood on or near this site from the late 16th century. The present church was designed by William Brierley, a well known York architect, and was completed in 1896, a fact that is clear for all to see in the weather vane on the tower.

The leaflet that Uncle Gerry purchased, states that the style is Perpendicular with overtones of Arts and Crafts particularly reflected in the woodwork, much of it done by Robert 'Mouseman' Thompson of Kilburn. He carved trademark mice on this furniture. There are apparently nine and a half mice, but we were too tired to go on a hunt. Maybe next time we are here.

The strong arches to east and west of the chancel bear the tower that houses the clock and five bells on which the quarters are sounded, which we could hear clearly from our room. It keeps extremely accurate time too.

There is some fine pictorial stained glass, including this window on the south side of the nave by J C N Bewsey, whose 'mark' can be seen in the bottom right hand corner. The figures represented are from the left, St Aidan, St Hilda and St Cuthbert - saints connected with Whitby and the Early Church in the North East.

The history lesson over, I then said to Uncle Gerry, "to round off our day will you take our picture in the churchyard."

"Of course Fred", Uncle Gerry replied.

Tuesday

Hi Higgy, here. Today was the Railway Bears' trip on the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, and here they are waiting for the 09:45 train from Goathland to Whitby.

l-r Dale, Scooter, Me, Dunstan & Chuffer

We travelled on a number of trains, and such was the number of pictures that Dad kindly took, it has been decided that our day will be the subject of a separate story. Click the link - Bears on NYMR

The gardens at the rear of the hotel face west over the valley to a line of hills. It was a glorious evening making for a wonderful sunset. The midges were out in force, but Dad went and braved them to get this picture.

Wednesday

Hi Vik here. It was the last day, and Dad and Uncle Brian had decided to find the remains of the Roman Road on Wheeldale Moor.

"Does anyone want to come with us", asked Dad.

"Yes please", I said, as I like things to do with history.

"Me too", called out Fletcher.

"And me", cried Marty not wanting to be left out.

From the hotel the road we wanted was just a few yards on the right. After a while we took a narrow road branching left, coming to a parking area by a building.

"I am sure this is where we came all those years ago", said Uncle Brian.

"I think you are right. But on that occasion we walked to it", replied Dad.

We could see that it was some distance, and knew that Uncle Brian would not be able to manage.

"Back at the junction, one sign said access by motor car", I said.

"I know", said Uncle Brian, "but this map is not detailed enough."

Just then Dad had an inspired moment (it does not happen very often). He rummaged in his map drawer by the dashboard, and lo and behold found a map of the area. This plainly showed the route we needed to take, so off we went. It was a long circuitous route, on narrow roads, so we where glad not to meet too much traffic. But finally we arrived and Dad was able to pull the car off on the verge.

By a stile was an information board, which we make no apologies for quoting from below. Immediately beyond the "road" stretched away. The first few yards were in fact the best preserved, having been excavated.

It is known as Wheeldale Road or Wade's Causeway. Shrouded in mystery it is a place where history meets legend. There are questions about who built it, how old it is, and where did it lead to?

For many years archaeologists had few doubts that it was Roman. Looking at the map the road appears to link the Roman forts of Cawthorn and Lease Rigg. Indeed it has been further suggested that the road runs south to connect with a road running west from the Roman garrison at Malton. So maybe the legions built it when they invaded this wild terrain.

Now its origins are less certain. The road is surfaced with stone slabs, yet most Roman roads had a gravel surface. Instead of being straight it has many slight changes of direction, something we noticed as we walked along with Dad. To an extent this can be seen in the picture below.

This leads some archaeologists to believe that it may have been built late in the Roman era when standards had changed. Some even believe that it may pre-date the Romans.

Of course we could not let the opportunity pass, of having our picture taken on the road. In the footsteps of the Romans.....

Finally there is the Legend of Wade. As you may suspect, Wade's Causeway is not the original name of this ancient road. Local legend tells of a giant named Wade who once lived in the area. He is said to have built the road for his wife, Bell, to herd her sheep along on the way to moorland pastures.

All this gave us a lot of food for thought and plenty to tell our other pals when we returned to the hotel. This we did after Dad and Uncle Brian had been for a snack to one of the tearooms in Goathland. Meanwhile we took the opportunity to explore the village and look round the station.

The holiday was nearly over, so all that remained today was for Dad to take us to have our usual end of holiday group picture taken in the garden.

L-r - Chuffer, Higson, Dunstan, Gladly, Dale, Fred, Vik, Scooter, Fletcher
& in front Marty

Thank you Dad and Uncle Brian, for a super holiday!!

And finally......

When we arrived, and the door to the bedroom was opened, we were surprised to see another teddy bear sitting on the desk. Further investigation revealed his name was Huggie, and that he was available to be adopted. He had been supplied by The Teddy Bear Adoption Agency. Dad immediately picked him up and gave him a cuddle. He is very soft and had a very appealing face. But Dad's dilemma was that he is not supposed to be adding to the Hug, so he did his best to resist. He did not take him on any days out, but all the time when Dad was working on his computer Huggie was looking straight at him. We really wanted him to come home with us, and finally on the Wednesday afternoon he capitulated and arranged the adoption with reception, who gave Dad the official adoption certificate. Fred asked his Dad what he thought when he saw the bear that first afternoon.

"I knew it was a lost cause immediately", Uncle Brian replied.

Although he did not go on any of the outings. we feel we must include a picture of him. Dad was not all that enamoured with the name Huggie, and Uncle Brian came up with the suggestion of calling him Ruswarp, after a pretty village near Whitby. We all think it is a very distinguished name. Here he is posing for his picture in our garden.

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