Following the previous day’s trek, we decided to have a more sedate day visiting the delightful market town of Pickering which was just a short amble up the road from the site on a proper, level footpath.
Although it was Saturday the town seemed fairly quiet and the few people about were all unfailingly friendly and welcoming, as is the case in so many northern towns. Fewer people around is always an asset when we have Jack with us as there are less legs and feet for him to dodge around and less chance of him being inadvertently trodden on (mainly by me!)
Pickering itself has an eclectic mixture of local independent shops, cafes and bars and is thankfully devoid of the mainstream chain outlets that seem de rigeur in most other places, which just turns them into generic clones of each other. Not so here; butchers, bakers and probably even candlestick makers somewhere down a side street, all trade happily next to one another and the ubiquitous gift shops abound (one has to wonder how on earth they make a living?) together with Pickering’s answer to Bargain Hunt selling an unbelievable amount of
tat goods you never knew you needed.
The highlight of Pickering, for me at least, was the station. Not that I’m a trainspotter but this station is one end of the North York Moors Railway which still uses steam engines to run the majority of its scheduled services. Our timing was perfect as the 2pm service from Whitby was due to arrive shortly giving us just enough time to enjoy the ambience of the faithfully preserved station as it would have been when steam trains were the norm many decades ago.
Right on time (are you listening Chiltern Railways?!!) the distant whistle announced the imminent arrival of the puffing, steaming beast and, moments later, the engine chuffed its way into view accompanied by much snapping of cameras (mine included) and a tangible frisson of excitement from young and old alike.
There’s something magnificent and majestic about a steam engine – a living beast; a thing with a heart and soul which needs nurturing and feeding. So much more romantic and awe-inspiring than the 9:15 diesel Sprinter from Birmingham Moor Street.
Although the ride across the moors up to Whitby must be one of the most picturesque railway journeys in England, the £31 per person ticket price seemed a little too much for a couple of hours of self-indulgent nostalgia so we passed on that one in favour of a pork pie and vegetable pasty for lunch. Not quite as nostalgic but just as tasty.