An early July day in Whitby,
A near cloudless blue sky,
Breeze from the river moderating
A Temperature unseasonably high.
A supervised school class stands
Trawling for crabs by the riverside
Each successful catch greeted
With an excited juvenile pride.
The swing bridge opens
To let river traffic through
A pleasant little rest as
We stand in the queue.
Buttered toast and a latte
In a cafe off a side street
Then on to the pier where
The Esk and sea finally meet.
There are surf boards parked
By the stone pier wall side
Boarders seem to be waiting
For the due incoming tide.
The ruins of the Abbey stand
Gaunt against the clear skyline
One hundred and ninety nine steps
To climb under hot sunshine.
Every fifty steps there are seats
To make the task a little less hard
For the bearers of the past carrying
Coffins up to the old churchyard.
I sat on every single one
Needing each little stop
Until tired and near breathless
I arrived at the very top.
Four very special days
By the North Yorkshire coast.
The weather kind for every one,
One of the places l love the most.
An early summer break,
Our last chance to roam,
Bags all packed tonight,
Tomorrow we drive home.