Yorkshire: Misty Moors and a Shady History

As we started down the steep hill, the flat calm of the autumn North Sea lay in front of us, meeting the horizon in varying shades of gray. The morning threatened drizzle. The street, just wide enough for one car, bore the sign “Necessary vehicular access only,” so we descended on foot.

At turns in the narrow, worn cobblestone sidewalk, tiny, picturesque houses and shops materialized from under red tile roofs. They were crammed closely together, constructed on the craggy, steep rocks of a ravine that tumbled down to the sea.

When we reached the sea, we tried exploring the village with a map picked up at a local coffee shop, but it offered little help. We got lost in a maze of passageways and alleys. Nonetheless, it was great fun. “Oh, look at this doorway,” one of us would call, or “Let’s see what’s in this little shop.”

Ellie, my traveling companion, and I had taken a train from London several days earlier and picked up a rental car at the station in York. We drove across the Yorkshire moors on narrow, winding roads from Pickering to Red House Farm, where we rented a cottage for a week. The farm was in Glaisdale, a tiny village within North York Moors National Park and eight miles from Whitby, an old resort town and port.

These expansive Yorkshire moors--open, rolling uplands covered with heather--were made famous by the Bronte sisters in their popular novels. Between the lonely, forbidding and wind-swept moors lay green, rolling dales dotted with hamlets.

We followed a leisurely pace in the car, stopping to sightsee along the two-hour drive to the farm and during the week we were there, warmed by the friendliness of the people and relishing differences in the dramatic landscapes.

North York Moors National Park covers 553 square miles. Forty percent of it is open moorland, the largest expanse of heather moorland in England and Wales. The high ridges offer far-reaching views over the green dales and forests. The moors are wild and remote, offering a haven for curlew, grouse and golden plover, all of which nest in the heather.

Villages, seemingly little changed in several hundred years, are scattered throughout the dales. Stopping the car once on a hill to take pictures and admire the view, we noticed an old, weathered farmhouse and outbuildings sitting alone in the heather. The setting made us think of lonely scenes from “Wuthering Heights.” Heather grew around us almost as far as the eye could see, in varying shades of purple.

Along the coast, steep cliffs rise sharply from the sea and level out to unspoiled countryside. Small villages of closely clustered cottages hug the cliffs.

Robin Hood’s Bay, or “Bay” as it is known to locals, is nestled in a cove on the Yorkshire coast. It is one of the most picturesque villages in the region and is popular with tourists, but the season was over on the September morning that we arrived, and there were just a few other visitors.

The stories I had read about it began to take shape in my mind as we walked past the small homes and shops. I tried to picture how it might have looked in 1745, when its name was synonymous with smuggling. Hard to imagine of such a peaceful and innocent-looking place. Nonetheless, this village once was the headquarters for the most powerful gang of smugglers on the northeast coast of England, and many of the townspeople were accomplices. In an era when smuggling was virtually a national industry, Robin Hood’s Bay became its very heart, chiefly because of its isolation.

At the time, for example, Britain consumed about 4 million pounds of tea a year, with 3 million pounds of it smuggled in. Residents despised what they believed to be unjust taxation of goods imported from the Continent. To them, the solution was simple. Those who weren’t involved in the smuggling operation looked the other way.

Contraband was regularly transferred, usually under cover of darkness, from ships to small boats, then unloaded on the beach. The goods were handed off up the hill through tunnels and secret passages within houses, some say without ever seeing the light of day. The back of a cupboard in one tiny house might have a trapdoor that opened into the pub next door.

From the top of the hill the goods were transported across the moors to waiting customers. The merchants and other recipients were eager for their tea, brandy, rum, wine, tobacco, spices, perfume and lace from the Continent and never asked questions, and the villagers accumulated stashes of illegally earned cash to save for a rainy day.

From our base at the cottage in Glaisdale, we discovered other area attractions too. The village of Grosmont (pronounced GROW-moat) was nearby, and it was here that we caught a restored steam train for an 18-mile trip to Pickering, where we browsed at market day booths and had lunch at a cafe.

The train provided easy access to scenic walks through the valleys and surrounding villages. People with backpacks and hiking boots got on and off at various points. The station at Pickering was a big draw for photographers; people vied for the best position to take pictures of the old locomotive and browsed in the gift shop, which contains photos, paintings and models of the old trains.

Whitby, on the coast, is a charming resort town. We boarded a double-decker sightseeing bus on the spur of the moment and were glad we did. The tour offered excellent views of the hilly city as well as the ruins of 13th century Whitby Abbey. The guide, a local actress, regaled us with gossip about the town and its people.

We had lunch at Trencher’s, a local legend at the harbor, queuing for half an hour to get a table. The time passed quickly as we conversed with a friendly English couple ahead of us. When we were seated I asked for fish and chips, and Ellie ordered prawns. We learned to ask for descriptions when ordering, however, since the “prawns,” when they arrived, were what we would call monkfish.

Whitby was the home of explorer Capt. James Cook, and it has a museum in his honor. The region is considered “Capt. Cook Country” because Cook was born in Marton, was schooled in Great Ayton and did an apprenticeship in a grocery store in the little fishing village of Staithes, where he fell in love with the sea and eventually sailed away. A 70-mile posted tour marks Cook landmarks and museums.

Staithes, a few miles up the coast from Whitby, is a fishing village. At one time fishing was a way of life for the families who lived there, with women and children helping to haul in the boats. The fish were auctioned off from the quay and loaded on teams of packhorses to be transported across the inhospitable moors to faraway markets. Later the village became an artists’ colony, and today, although a small fishing fleet remains, it is mainly a tourist attraction.

When in Yorkshire, a visit must include a sightseeing trip through villages and across the moors, and the best way to do this is on a Moorsbus, where someone else does the driving. Tourists are encouraged to use them. National park officials call the Moorsbus the “gentle way” to see the moors, less disturbing to the delicate ecology of the area than hordes of cars. The buses leave from specified village stops or can be flagged down anywhere in between. They also provide practical transportation for the locals.

I boarded at the Danby Moors Visitor Centre, a few miles from the cottage, and left Ellie to enjoy the Sunday Times of London. In September these buses run only on Sundays, so it is necessary to check schedules with local officials.

You can ask for a transfer, get off along the way to enjoy sightseeing in a village that may look interesting and board another bus later on.

Local people are friendly, and on the bus an elderly woman across the aisle could see me puzzling over a map I had picked up at the visitor center.

She leaned over and inquired, “Ye lost on yer mop?”

I told her I was just following our bus route. As soon as I opened my mouth it was obvious I was American, so she kindly helped me with Yorkshire pronunciations along the way and pointed out sights. “The next village is not Chop Gate like it looks, it’s ‘Chop Yat,’ ” she offered. The bus route veers down a steep hill and stops at the looming ruins of Rievaulx Abbey. I was somewhat surprised to see crowds and large parking areas full of cars and tourist buses, having thus far enjoyed fairly tourist-free sights.

Rievaulx Abbey is the remains of a 13th century Cistercian monastery with graceful, soaring Norman arches. It became the order’s mother church in England and is one of the country’s most impressive sights.

Helmsley is another few miles up the road. I got off the bus there, explored the village, had tea at a centuries-old hotel on the square and boarded another bus to complete the circular tour back to the visitor center.

Another interesting town that we later visited by car was Thornton-le-Dale. There’s a thatch-roofed house here that is said to be one of the most photographed houses in England. With its neat and colorful cottage garden and bubbling brook in front, we could see why.

Although Castle Howard is another fine tourist attraction in Yorkshire--not far from York and well worth the tour--I had seen it on a previous visit and chosen other sights. The castle is a beautiful 18th century palace where the television series “Brideshead Revisited” was filmed, and they have several rooms devoted to interesting details relating to the filming.

Most days we would stop in a village after sightseeing, have tea and scones in the late afternoon and then fix a light supper in the cottage, taking turns cooking. One evening we tried out the Glaisdale pub, the Mitre, and had delicious homemade tomato soup served with fresh bread. The locals sat relaxed at tables, chatting over pints, their dogs asleep at their feet.

Studying the blackboard listing daily specials, we saw “Stilton mushrooms” and decided to share an order to see what they were: sauteed mushrooms in a creamy Stilton cheese sauce--delicious and well worth our curiosity.

Shepard’s Hall Tearoom in nearby Lealholm (LEE-lum) can provide dinners or snacks. We ate there early one evening and ordered “starters”--appetizers--instead of dinner.

Toward the end of the week we found A169, which locals call the “moors road”; it is the most direct route between Whitby and York. South all the way to Pickering, the view of the moors extends to the horizon on both sides, bypassing dales and villages, and the feeling of desolation, and beauty, is real.

We took A169 back to York and the train to London. Although it was more fun exploring back roads, both ways are worth the experience.

One thing still puzzles me. No one--including a town historian-- seems to know how Robin Hood’s Bay was named, but people who live there seem to agree on one point: It had no connection to Robin Hood.

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Nancy J. Baird is a freelance writer who lives on Camano Island, Wash.

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Guidebook: Moored in Yorkshire

Getting there: From LAX, nonstop service to London is available on British Airways, United, American, Virgin Atlantic and Air New Zealand, with connecting service (change of planes) available on Continental. Restricted round-trip fares are $756 until Oct. 31, then fall to $556.

From London to York, trains leave King’s Cross station hourly. We purchased Flexipasses, which can be used any four days out of two months, for $349 first class. The pass also covers the cost of the Heathrow or Gatwick Express rail service between the two airports and Paddington station, the most efficient way to reach downtown London.

Telephones: To call numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international dialing code), 44 (country code for England) and the local number.

Where to stay: We booked our cottage directly with the owners, Tom and Sandra Spashett, at Red House Farm, Glaisdale, North Yorkshire Y021 2PZ, England; 1947-89-7242, www.redhousefarm.net. Weekly cottage rentals are $388-$854, depending on season.

Cottages are also available from English Country Cottages, Stoney Bank, Earby, Barnoldswick BB94 0AA, England; 8700-78-1100, www.english-country-cottages.co.uk. Prices are $342-$3,000 per week, depending on cottage and season.

Where to eat: Magpie Cafe,

14 Pier Road, Whitby; 1947-60-

2058. The Magpie overlooks the harbor in Whitby and specializes in seafood. Daily 11:30 a.m.-

9 p.m. Entrees $10-$28.

Greens Restaurant, 13 Bridge St., Whitby; 1947-60-284. Seafood, local game and meats are the specialty. Lunch noon-

2 p.m., dinner 6-10 p.m.; closed Sunday evening, Monday lunch. Entrees $20-$26.

For more information: British Tourist Authority, 551 Fifth Ave., Suite 701, New York, NY 10176; (877) 899-8391, www.visitbritain.com.

Also check the Yorkshire Tourist Board, www.ytb.org.uk, and www.captaincook.org.uk.