Scarborough to Whitby

Scarborough to Whitby: A Race Against the Clock, a Dance with the Elements, and a Pint with New Friends!

BEEP BEEP BEEP! The alarm blared at 5 am, ripping us from the depths of sleep. As our senses slowly awakened, the howl of the wind and the insistent drumming of heavy rain against the deck assaulted our ears. This was not the gentle start we'd hoped for. Nevertheless, we had to push on, or risk being stranded in Scarborough until the next elusive weather window. We constantly remind ourselves that this is our journey, on our timeline; if we choose to wait for calmer conditions, that's perfectly acceptable. It's a mantra that works for us. But today, we were going.

The voyage to Whitby was estimated at a brisk three and a half hours. Our crucial deadline: arriving within two hours either side of high water to access the swing bridge that would grant us passage to the marina. Miss that window, and we'd be relegated to a temporary pontoon before the bridge, unable to leave the boat – an option we were determined to avoid. The challenge was compounded by the need to depart Scarborough at high water, as the Commodore had warned us both ports were heavily silted and in desperate need of dredging.

We pulled on our foul-weather gear. Tracey, feeling like the Michelin Man in her many layers, was determined not to let the cold seep in. Nick prepared the lines for our departure; it was going to be a tricky one. Our berth was incredibly tight, and the Commodore's speedboat loomed precariously close. We talked through the plan, ensuring every step was clear – we had only one shot at this. Before casting off, Nick called Scarborough Port Control to check the depth. A wave of relief washed over us: 3.7 meters at the harbour entrance, much higher than expected, and we had a comfortable 2.3 meters under our keel in the berth.

We eased ourselves backward out of our spot, Tracey poised with a roving fender, ready to deflect any unwanted bumps. The gods, it seemed, were smiling on us; the wind mysteriously vanished, making our tricky departure significantly smoother. We executed a flawless 180-degree reverse into another empty berth, then swung the wheel and throttled forward, gracefully navigating around the pylons and towards the harbour entrance. A sandbar lay in wait at the entrance, so we followed the advice to cross and hug the port-side wall. Without any real fuss, we were finally on our way, leaving Scarborough's challenging embrace behind us.

The sun's rays valiantly pierced through the cloudy sky to our right, but ahead, the cloud cover was thick, and the wind, inevitably, was on the nose. We were in a race against the tide, battling to reach our destination on schedule, so the engine remained steadfastly on (seriously, at this rate, we should have bought a motorboat!). The silhouette of Scarborough Castle, sitting high on its hill, slowly faded into the distance as we continued up the coastline. Aside from a lone fishing boat hugging the shore, we were out there on our own, a tiny vessel in a vast expanse. Once again, it was a game of dodging fishing buoys while trying to maintain our track. The green, rolling coastline dipped and swayed alongside us, and occasional bursts of rain felt like tiny pinpricks on our faces. We felt alive, truly immersed in the hands of nature and all her elements, and thus far, she was being remarkably kind. A rain shower brought with it the ethereal beauty of a faint rainbow, its vibrant colours arcing in front of the cliffs and dipping into the sea. We passed Robin Hood's Bay, the bay itself empty, but we could clearly make out the narrow roadway appearing to spill directly into the waves.

As we rounded the final headland, the haunting, majestic remains of Whitby Abbey dramatically presented themselves. Our eyes scoured the horizon for a Northerly cardinal marker – the crucial buoy that, once rounded to port, would lead us directly into Whitby harbour entrance. At 9:46 am, we radioed Whitby LPS (Local Port Services), requesting permission to enter the harbour and stating our intention to pass through the swing bridge into the marina. The swing bridge operates on the half-hour and hour during its four-hour high-water window. Whitby LPS advised they would open the bridge for us at 10 am. Perfect timing! No need for a stressful temporary mooring alongside. A shared smile crossed our faces; despite the challenging weather, this was already shaping up to be one of our favourite passages, for a whole host of reasons.

Whitby Welcome and Unexpected Camaraderie
The swing bridge obligingly opened before us, revealing the marina beyond. No one was manning the marina office, so we were simply asked to mill about in the marina basin and then take the berth currently occupied by another vessel, "Cherokee," who was due to leave for the 11 o'clock bridge opening. We had a little time to kill, so we circled patiently in the basin. Once Cherokee had vacated, we swiftly replaced her. And what a spot! No short fingers here, just a gloriously long pontoon with plenty of room. It felt like slipping into our old familiar berth in Gosport. Another leg conquered – woohoo!

On the other side of our pontoon, a vessel named "Adele" was berthed. We remembered hearing her name called over the radio as we left Grimsby. The boat proudly flew a German flag, so we were pleasantly surprised when a very English voice hailed us. Martin and Stefan, it turned out, are also in the midst of their own UK circumnavigation, though their approach is slightly different, aiming for a rapid 3-4 month completion. We invited them aboard Halcyon Sea for drinks that evening. They arrived with the best of intentions – just one drink, as they were departing the next morning. However, our night ultimately came to an end around midnight, after more than "one beer" and a fair amount of rum had been consumed. We had a truly wonderful evening with them and genuinely hope to meet up again once we reach the west coast of Scotland. We'll certainly be following their progress on AIS. What a fantastic day all around. We are so very lucky!Leia mais