The road to Bridlington

After a three night stopover in Bingley, it was time to head east and make for the Yorkshire coast. We had booked a night’s accommodation in the seaside town of Bridlington; a place none of us had been to before, but before we set off, a word or two about breakfast.  

The Premier Inn we stayed in was charging £9.75 for a full English breakfast, which Mrs PBT’s and I thought was rather steep. On the first two mornings, son Matthew had had other ideas, and had taken himself down to the attached Dalesway Brewer’s Fayre pub to eat his fill. He even managed to drag himself out of bed at a sensible hour in order to do so!

Matt informed us that for £9.75 you could help yourself to as much as you liked. Even so, that seemed like a poor deal – stuffing yourself silly just to get your “money’s worth” doesn’t seem a sensible option, so us parents decided to look elsewhere. A quick check on Google revealed that L&S Village Bakery, just down the road, offered a range of breakfast butties and other goodies to take away. The reviews were good too, so we jumped into the car and sped off, eager to grab a bite to eat.

We soon found the place, fronting onto the road, and with plenty of parking space outside. The fillings for the “butties” were cooked to order, so we both ordered bacon and sausage.  Once served we drove back to the hotel, parked outside and sat in the car eating our purchases, whilst waiting for young Matthew to appear. The bacon and sausage used for the filling, were plentiful, of a high standard and good value as well.

The quality and value of our breakfast “barm cakes”  - I know you mustn’t use that term east of the Pennines, persuaded our son to skip the Premier Inn’s breakfast offering on that final morning, which is why I before checking out, I nipped out early to pick up an order of breakfast butties for us all.

Suitably full, we checked out, loaded up the car, and set off for Yorkshire’s east coast. Mrs PBT’s had expressed her desire for a drive across the moors, and the technology obliged, as the Sat-Nav led us up a narrow road, more or less opposite the hotel, and straight up onto said moors.

It was a lovely sunny day and with hardly a cloud in the sky, the moors were looking their early autumnal best. The roads were narrow and winding, and fringed either side by dry-stone walls. I hadn’t seen such scenery since my student days in Manchester, when we would take a trip up into the Pennines.

Our route eventually took us onto some wider roads, and from what I could make out the navigation aid was taking us to the north of Bingley and then Bradford, whilst keeping us heading in an easterly direction. We skirted the town of Otley, before descending from the hills and onto roads which followed the river valley towards Tadcaster, and the Vale of York.

We skirted the latter and then took the A64 to the south of York, before turning onto the A166 which runs virtually all the way to Bridlington. We reached the village of Stamford Bridge, about five miles to the  east of York, where the bridge from which the village gets it name, crosses the River Derwent.

It looked a really attractive place and, had we not been in a queue of traffic, I would have pulled off the road and stopped for a look around. Writing this, I am now wishing we had pulled over, but we seemed to enter, and then leave Stamford Bridge so quickly, that all we got was a glimpse of the village square, tucked away just the other side of the bridge.

The family unfortunately were unaware of Stamford Bridge’s role in early English history, and of the famous battle which took place there on 25th September 1066. In this battle King Harold, repelled an invading Norwegian force led by his brother Tostig Godwinson  and King Harald Hardrada of Norway. This defeat of the Norwegian forces is said to mark the traditional end of the Viking era in Britain.

Harold’s victory was short lived, as just three weeks later, having marched his forces nearly 200 miles back to southern England, he was defeated at the Battle of Hastings, by an invasion force led by Duke William of Normandy.

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en Oliver Dixon

One can only speculate as to how much two forced marches, in the space of a few weeks, contributed to Harold’s defeat, but either way the battle which took place at Stamford Bridge  had a major effect on the course of English history. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to teach this stuff in schools any more, as my family’s lack of knowledge about what happened at this quiet and quintessentially English village, showed only too well.

Moving steadily eastwards, we could see a line of hills looming in the distance. These were the Yorkshire Wolds; an area of gentle rolling hills and dry chalk-land valleys, which run from Filey in the north, to the Humber Estuary in the south. The road ascended the escarpment at Garrowby Hill and we then found ourselves driving through this pleasant and relatively unknown area of Yorkshire’s East Riding.

We turned off the A166 at the quaintly named village of Fridaythorpe, following what was signposted as a “Quieter route to Bridlington”. We arrived in the seaside town at around 2pm, which was just the right time to check into the Premier Inn, right on the seafront.

We grabbed a welcome coffee in the adjoining Cookhouse & Kitchen, before going for a stroll along the seafront. We walked down to the harbour, pausing to take in the view northwards along the coast, to the chalk cliffs of Flamborough Head. The harbour area was especially interesting as Bridlington is still a working fishing port, which claims to land one of the largest  quotas of shellfish in the UK.

Wife and son headed for the amusement arcades, for a bit of fun with the “Penny Falls” machines. They actually take 2p pieces, but for a couple of quid, you can have half hour or so worth's of amusement of trying to beat the machine, even though you inevitably lose.

Being out of season, the arcades closed at 5pm, much to Matthew’s annoyance, but with each of us, a pound or so lighter, it was time to grab something to eat. Jeromes Pavillion Bar & Café, right on the seafront, fitted the bill, and with views out to sea, it was the perfect place to enjoy our haddock and chips, complete with mushy peas, bread & butter and pot of tea.

Cheap and cheerful, and with a glass roof supported by cast-iron columns which looked as if they’d been rescued from an old railway station, it was very pleasant indeed. The food arrived hot, and freshly cooked, and although the place was fairly quiet, you could imagine it being packed out at the height of the summer season.

We took a drive up into the Old Town afterwards, but the family didn’t fancy getting out of the car. To be fair, it was getting dark, but I liked what I saw of this historic area of Bridlington, so much so that I was wishing we’d booked another night.

As it happened, that was out of the question, as BBC Radio 2 were hosting an All Star Party, at the Bridlington Spa the following evening, and accommodation in the town was either sold out, or astronomically priced. I made a mental note to return, at some future date (along with a visit to Stamford Bridge).

We finished our evening with a few beers at the Cookhouse & Kitchen. The hand-pulled Jennings Cumberland was on good form at 3.0 NBSS, but the pub itself was slightly lacking in atmosphere.

The following morning, we headed for home. Don’t ever travel on a Friday, unless you absolutely have to. According to the AA, the 245 mile journey should have taken four hours and 40 minutes. We left Bridlington just after 10am and finally arrived home at 6:15pm.

We did however, stop for something to eat at another American-style OK Diner. This was on the opposite carriageway of the A1, and quite a way further south than the one we called into on the outward journey. The menu and food were of the same high quality, so it made a very welcome break to what was a rather lengthy journey.