England 2025: Getting to Whitby

On the North Yorkshire Coast

Okay, why do they call it the Transpenine Express, since it hits every single stop between Manchester, and where I want to be. I’ve had to swap trains at Middlesboro, just to ensure that I go to every dale, ware, and kil before reaching my final destination. Perhaps rebrand it as the Transpenine Omnibus? Just a thought.

Besides having lost phone service for the last 8 stops of the journey, it is magnificently beautiful to travel by train, in a warm sunny winter, through the dales and up to the coast. The Boro had all manner of industrial structures and put me in mind of photos I’ve seen of Teeside—with cranes and mental rigged monoliths silhouetted against the cloudless sky. But the landscape quickly gives way to mountains, fields, waterways, and sheep. Crofts/farms are few and far between—and not one ancient stone structure has a 5G tower crowning it. So, I sit, without a signal, and watch the land go by, as with each train stop, the car gets emptier still. I often imagine what the ancient Britons may have done in this place or that. The northeast, I believe was home to the Saxons…with their long wild dreadlocks, pelt garments, and raw dinners (my imagination tends to run wild).

Truth be told, I got a bit frightened that I’d miss the 16:15 sunset, because the clock was ticking, but we were still in the middle of nowhere. Then we pulled in at Whitby, the last stop, and I poured out of the train like I knew where I was going. Walking north toward the pier, I turned back and snapped the first perfect photograph of this visit. My very first sunset in Whitby. I love to mark my ‘firsts’ in life, because I have so few recollections of those of my youth.

The Pier Inn, Room 2

I arrived in Whitby at the train station and walked five minutes up Quay Rd to Pier Road. Now, here I am . Breakfast is from 8Am to 10Am. I get to hang out here and explore for four whole days.

The Pier Inn is deliciously cute, and potentially romantic. The room is sedately painted in a pale ocean grey, with tastefully colorful curtains, and delectably flat pillows. Yes, I said flat pillows! I’ve spent the last 3 or 4 days on the hotel equivalent of 4 honey-baked hams in every bed, and my neck is killing me! The Pier’s are the opposite of those over-buoyant things, and I sink back on them in relief.

This room, so inviting, that I skipped my usual meticulous bedbug check, which has served me so well in hotels around the world! Anyway, when I arrived last night, I dropped my belongings, showered and brushed, and fell into a deep and restful sleep. This morning I’m looking forward to the early breakfast and mooch around the town. 

Full English Breakfast

Truth be told, I don’t make having a fry-up a habit. It is nice every once-inna-while, but not my cuppa tea. UK sausages are just not as succulent as those from the states. That said, I went for it today. Fried egg, beans, toast, fried tomato, mushrooms, bacon, sausage and black pudding. I cleaned my plate (except for the sausage—which was better than I remembered, but just a bit too much food). This. THIS was the first runny egg I have eaten since I was age 5.

So far Pier Inn, 10 Stars! I will be back.