If the technology allows, I'll post a picture. If not, here's a thousand words..
When you're already near Driffield (and if you're actually there, check out Dewhirst), the bit of the East Riding that arches out into and divides the North Sea from the Humber doesn't look far away. It's 50 miles and mostly on roads transplanted from Lincolnshire. Nonetheless, lured by that desire we all have to go to extremes, I imprisoned my new family in the car and set off.
The arrival, via the excellent tea rooms at Kilnsea, was slow. Even after the land runs out, there's a promontory of single-trackedness, alternating between asphalt, tank tracks and sand piles which brings you to The Car Park at the End of Yorkshire. This is before the gate leading to a scattering of desperate houses belonging to some ostensibly safety-orienated Government Agency but possibly the lodgings of families engaged in spying. Or maybe it's just the lifeboat.. it was certainly parked there.
The Car Park is industrial in prospect but hidden over the adjacent sand dune, is a wonderful stretch of gloriously white-brown sandy beach, adorned with the remnanats of quays and docks. Gravel boats have long since shimmied away but their shingle call still plays on the breeze conducted by the
old lighthouse. A young seal sniffed at us but dolphined away with Michael Phelps' prowess. The sand whipped our faces and the sun shone shamefacedly but defiant.
It was great. Go there - it'll be gone in my kids' lifetimes.
When you're already near Driffield (and if you're actually there, check out Dewhirst), the bit of the East Riding that arches out into and divides the North Sea from the Humber doesn't look far away. It's 50 miles and mostly on roads transplanted from Lincolnshire. Nonetheless, lured by that desire we all have to go to extremes, I imprisoned my new family in the car and set off.
The arrival, via the excellent tea rooms at Kilnsea, was slow. Even after the land runs out, there's a promontory of single-trackedness, alternating between asphalt, tank tracks and sand piles which brings you to The Car Park at the End of Yorkshire. This is before the gate leading to a scattering of desperate houses belonging to some ostensibly safety-orienated Government Agency but possibly the lodgings of families engaged in spying. Or maybe it's just the lifeboat.. it was certainly parked there.
The Car Park is industrial in prospect but hidden over the adjacent sand dune, is a wonderful stretch of gloriously white-brown sandy beach, adorned with the remnanats of quays and docks. Gravel boats have long since shimmied away but their shingle call still plays on the breeze conducted by the
old lighthouse. A young seal sniffed at us but dolphined away with Michael Phelps' prowess. The sand whipped our faces and the sun shone shamefacedly but defiant.It was great. Go there - it'll be gone in my kids' lifetimes.
1 comment:
Some nice, sharp and malted word-pictures here Carson
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