Scarborough to Redcar

Well it seems that I had already cycled from Hull to Scarborough, so it must be time to head for Redcar.

Leaving Scarborough by the Cinder Track under the expert guidance of Mr Ben Vickers.

This was the site of the Gallows Close Goods Yard.

Formerly the Scarbough to Whitby Railway – the line opened in 1885 and closed in 1965 as part of the Beeching Axe.

Yet again I chance upon a delightful post-war home.

I parted company with the track dropping down to the Esk Valley from the Larpool Viaduct.

Construction began in October 1882 and was complete by October 1884.

Two men fell from the piers during construction, but recovered.

I found myself in Ruswarp, home to this enchanting bus shelter.

I bombed along the main road to Sleights.

There then followed a hesitant ascent, descent, ascent along a badly signed bridleway, fearing that I had climbed the hill in error I retraced, then retraced.

A difficult push ensued, a precipitous path, rough and untended, rising ever higher and higher.

Finally arriving at Aislaby, more than somewhat exhausted – the village is mentioned in the Domesday Book as Asuluesbi

Pausing to catch my breath I took the wildly undulating road to Egton – along the way I was alerted to the presence of a tea stop by two touring cyclists from Nottingham.

The Cake Club.

A welcome wet and a hunk of home made carrot cake.

Brewmeister Maria was good enough to suggest route through Castleton Moor and over the tops to Saltburn.

It was too hot a day for a detour to Fryup.

The curious name Fryup probably derives from the Old English reconstruction Frige-hop: Frige was an Anglo-Saxon goddess equated with the Old Norse Frigg; hop denoted a small valley.

An old woman at Fryup was well known locally for keeping the Mark’s e’en watch – 24 April, as she lived alongside a corpse road known as Old Hell Road.

The practice involved a village seer holding vigil between 11pm and 1am to watch for the wraiths of those who would die in the following 12 months.

Castleton Moor ghost.

In the village I was given further directions by two elderly gents, who had been engaged in a discussion concerning their long term mapping of acid rain levels in the area.

One was wearing a Marshall Jefferson t-shirt.

I climbed Langburn Bank onto the flatish open moorland.

Taking a brief break to snap this concrete shelter.

There then followed a hair stirring series of hairpin descents to the coast at Saltburn.

Followed by an off road route to Redcar.

Our Lady of Lourdes – Architect: Kitching & Archibald 1928

Built in 1928, this church was designed with some care and is an attractive, if fairly modest, Lombard Romanesque-style essay in brick. The use of a semi-circular apse, narrow brickwork and use of tile for decorative effect give it a pleasing appearance, typical of restrained but elegant work between the wars.

I arrived and took a look around, first time in town, here’s what I found.

Another long day – I went to sleep.

Hull to Scarborough

Heading out of Hull one sunny Sunday morning along Sustrans Route 65.

The first leg of my journey northwards to Berwick, many thanks to all those kind souls who filled my water bottle, directed, redirected and misdirected me along my merry way.

I suddenly found myself on Sustrans Route 66 – nominally lost.

Good fortune however had pointed me in the direction of this functional yet charming brick built church, on the edge of a huge roundabout – St Mary Queen of Martyrs RC in Bransholme.

The new St Mary Queen of Martyrs church was built at Bransholme in 1976-7 and the old St Mary’s church closed and demolished in 1982.

Architect for the new church was JT Reid of The Reid Partnership – Pontefract.

The entrance graced by these textured fascias.

Following a series of brief engagements with various local benefactors, I regained my intended route and joined the Hornsea Rail Trail – the bed of the former branch line.

The line was officially opened on 28 March 1864, the last passenger train ran on 19 October 1964.

Goods traffic continued to use the line as far as Hornsea Bridge until 3 May 1965.

The place-name Swine is first attested in the Domesday Book of 1086, where it appears as Swine.

It appears as Suine in a charter of circa 1150, the name perhaps derives from the Old English swin meaning creek.

Wikipedia

Eventually arriving in Hornsea – on this occasion having little or no need of Do it Yourself, Ironmongery or Glass requisites.

And being Sunday, it was shut.

I tarried a while on the well appointed seafront.

Gliding along leafy, green hedge-lined lanes.

Following a dead end lane to the place of dead roads.

Skipsea – home to Crossways Fish & Chips

Here you will be offered perfectly cooked fish.

Retracing and crossing the Yorkshire Wolds.

Zigging and zagging here and there, in search of a route, any route, I came upon Okanagan – a delightful asymmetric Prairie Style modern home.

Filey Road, Gristhorpe, Filey, Scarborough, North Yorkshire – currently valued at £562,000.

The interior decorative order currently out of synch with the post war exterior.

Hurrying along to reach town by tea time – I descended deftly into Scarborough.

Where I hooked up with local lad Ben Vickers for a pint in the North Riding Hotel.

The rest is, as they say – a mystery.

South Bay Scarborough – Chalets

The world is inherently unstable, along comes a train a resort appears, along comes a ‘plane a resort disappears, along comes a virus and people disappear.

Whole chunks of the land fall in the sea, eventually.

The South Bay Gardens were slipping away.

Some of the oldest sun bathing chalets almost became an Arts Hub.

Seaside chalets were under threat, with the cause believed to be the failure of a retaining wall.

The swimming pool has been and gone, only an empty shell remains.

There are speculative plans and piecemeal repairs, but these are difficult times, and attracting substantial finance and flocks of tourists to revitalise the town, is no simple matter.

From 2011 I have visited South Bay, intrigued by all the above, but there’s a special place in my heart for these concrete chalets.

They never get a mention.

Here they are some years ago.

The primary coloured paint almost still fresh on their well locked doors.

They stand forlorn on the concrete shore overlooking an indifferent North Sea, hoping for a future in an uncertain age.

As I snapped I chatted to a local ANTIFA Anarcho Punk – ex Mansfield Miner and political activist, he feared that they would be swamped by some tidal wave of gentrification.

If so when, not soon.

As a post script I have been informed that the site was used as a kid’s den in the CBBC TV series All at Sea!

Scarborough Technical College

Gollins Melvin Ward & Partners 1961

Scarborough TEC formerly known as Yorkshire Coast College, Scarborough Technical College, Scarborough Technical Institute, and Scarborough School of Art is a further education college located on Lady Edith’s Drive Scarborough. It is a constituent college of the Grimsby Institute of Further & Higher Education.

Yorkshire Coast College was originally an independently controlled institution, but due to consistently poor results and long-term financial difficulties was taken over by the Grimsby Institute in January 2010.

In November 2016, the name was changed from Yorkshire Coast College to Scarborough TEC, with the TEC standing for Training, Education, Careers.

Wikipedia

Now it’s closed, the land to be sold for a housing development.

Colleges, once under the stewardship of the local authority are now independent businesses and as such subject to mergers and acquisition, for better or for worse.

1961

This is a building of architectural significance, GMW being responsible for several other ground breaking curtain wall towers and blocks – including Castrol House, now Marathon House one of the first curtain wall buildings in the UK, along with the Arts Tower in Sheffield.

In August 2015, GMW was taken over by another business, Scott Brownrigg, “as part of plans to move into the airport sector.”

It represents a time when vocational education was in the ascendancy, building for a manufacturing future with forward thinking, open, democratic and accessible architecture.

That optimism along with the attendant architecture are no longer, it seems – dish of the day.

It was a proud boast for many people in Scarborough that Robert Allen Palmer, the pop music icon, was raised and schooled there. Robert went to Scarborough Boys’ High School and studied art at Scarborough Technical College.

Photograph copyright Brian Cooke 2011

He played in his his first band there, The Mandrakes evolving from a gathering of pupils from the Scarborough High School for Boys during the summer of 1964.  Meetings and practice under the work in progress title of The Titans, first in the crypt of a church and then a former chicken hut, took place.  Allen – to become Robert in 1969 Palmer, joined after a successful audition and the first gig took place in a local youth club towards the end of the year.

British Music Archive

Robert’s Mum says fame never changed him, “He never seemed any different, he took us on Concorde two or three times and the Orient Express and we always celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas, everything, together.”

BBC

So I bowled up last Thursday following a tip from local lad Mr Ben Vickers, it rained and rained, armed with a Poundland one pound umbrella I took my chances and took some snaps.

Broken and boarded windows, spooky drips dripping and ghosts for company, heavy hearted marking the passing of an abandoned future and rapidly receding past.

Underpass – Scarborough Again

I’ve been here before on a much sunnier day.

Avoiding heavy showers and even heavier seas, I’m here again.

Three ways in and out of a doughnut on Scarborough’s South Bay.

One way in and out of the North Sea.

The underpass it seems is generally under threat, unsafe, often unloved and underground – often underused.

Once thought to be the answer to the threat posed to the pedestrian, by increased motor traffic, they are now deemed unsafe – poorly lit, badly maintained and scenes of anti-social activity.

Havens for those who are a threat to themselves.

Don’t let that put you off, get down and get with it!

Why not treat yourself to a walk around the South Bay Underground Car Park?

Then get out of it rapido.

Orange March – Scarborough

The future is overcast.

The future is not Orange.

The Orange Order is a conservative unionist organisation, with links to Ulster loyalism. It campaigned against Scottish independence in 2014. The Order sees itself as defending Protestant civil and religious liberties, whilst critics accuse the Order of being sectarian, triumphalist, and supremacist. As a strict Protestant society, it does not accept non-Protestants as members unless they convert and adhere to the principles of Orangeism, nor does it accept Protestants married to Catholics. Although many Orange marches are without incident, marches through mainly Catholic and Irish nationalist neighbourhoods are controversial and have often led to violence.

On the morning of March 28th 2015 I had taken the train to Scarborough, to spend a few days by the sea. As we passed throughHuddersfield and on into deepest Yorkshire, the carriage began to fill up at each stop with men, mainly men.

Men in dark overcoats, men with cropped hair, men sharing an unfamiliar familiarity. Intrigued, I enquired of my cultish companions the what, where, when and why of their collective purpose.

It transpired that they were all adherents of the Orange Order, Scarborough bound to participate in the annual Orange March.

On arrival we parted, but we were to meet up later in the day – I walked down to the foreshore and waited.

This is what I saw.

This year the march was cancelled.

You wouldn’t want anyone to catch anything, would you now?

Shopping Precincts – UK Again

This time of year, with limited light and an inclement climate, it’s far easier to travel by picture postcard. Researching and searching eBay to bring you the finest four colour repro pictures of our retail realm.

We have of course been here before – via a previous post.

It is however important to keep abreast of current coming and goings, developments are ever so often overwritten by further developments.

Precincts my appear and disappear at will – so let’s take a look.

What the CMYK is going on?

Abingdon

Aylesbury

Blackburn

Bradford

Chandlers Ford

Coventry

Cwmbran

Derby

Eastbourne

Exeter

Gloucester

Grimsby

Hailsham

Irvine

Jarrow

Middlesborough

Portsmouth

Scarborough

Solihull

Southampton

Stockport

Torquay

Wakefield

Harbour Bar – Scarborough

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1-3 Sandside, Scarborough, North Yorkshire, YO11 1PE.

Do you remember the first time?

Sometime around 2011, I fell in love with the Harbour Bar Scarborough.

A family business serving home made ice cream since 1945.

It’s a magical world of mirrors, melamine, signs and ice creams.

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Since then I’ve been back for a banana split and take the opportunity to take a few more snaps, I never leave anything less than overwhelmingly happy and full.

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Underpass – Scarborough

I’ve been here before.

In and out of the underpass from shore to mighty sea.

I’ve come back again, fascinated by the barely illuminated utilitarian infrastructure that seems so rarely used, alone in world of my own.

Take a closer walk and look with me.

The light at the end the tunnel is another tunnel.

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Ghost Signs – Scarborough

All towns have ghosts, none more so than Scarborough.

High atop a castle topped, wind whipped promontory, lies Anne Bronte, overlooking the harbour below, wayward Whitby whalers wail, lost fisher folk seek solace.

Its walls ache with traders past, scissors that no longer snip, click-less shutters, unlettered rock and loaves that no longer rise.

Layers of sun baked, peeling paint on brick, rendered almost illegible.

As Alan Resnais would say Scarborough, mon amour!

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Subway – Scarborough

When is a subway not a sandwich?

When it’s a doughnut!

Hard by the seafront linking Foreshore, Cleveland Way and Valley Road sits a neat little tight little island, giving pedestrian access to almost everywhere – and a car park.

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As with every other torus worth calling a torus, at its very centre sits the presence of absence, darkened concrete subterranean causeways, linking everything to nothing.

There’s a world going on underground.

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