Bay comes into its own when winter rages (From York Press)

Robin Hood’s Bay comes into its own when winter rages

10:49am Monday 16th January 2012 in Features By Matt Clark

Perfect at any time of year, Robin Hood’s Bay is even more special when winter seas are raging.

UNRELENTING rain drives against the window panes as the wind howls eerily through the eaves. It may be filthy outside, but Robin Hood’s Bay comes into its own when lashing seas belt up New Road while you warm your cockles in front of the fire in a cosy fisherman’s pub.

For sure the village is packed in the summer months, but unless you’ve been in winter you really haven’t seen Bay Town at its most atmospheric. That’s when the dark, windy ginnels hurrying steeply towards the beach take you on a giddy journey into the past, back to the days when this was the most notorious smuggling centre in England.

Everyone from fishermen to the local vicar was involved and the tightly clustered houses in warren-like streets would have afforded them sanctuary from the revenue men.

The village was also riddled with a network of tunnels and many cottages had passageways into next door. Some even had rooms above next door so contraband could pass from dock to cliff top without ever seeing the light of day.

It was good business; a ship’s captain could pick up £250 for each run and with such a sophisticated network in place, Bay skippers made a fortune, despite the risks.

They didn’t always get away with it. There are many accounts of altercations between smugglers and customs officers, including one at The Dock over a small matter of 260 casks of brandy and Geneva gin.

But the threat of excise men wasn’t the only danger in town. Press gangs were regular visitors and village wives would bang away at drums to warn their men when the hated gangs arrived.

Take a walk along The Bolts, off New Road, and you will discover another way villagers avoided the King’s shilling. It’s a straight run, past cottages on either side and into woods for a clean getaway.

These days, the visitors are far more welcome and the pretty, pantiled stone cottages make this a desirable place to stay year round.

There are two distinct faces to Robin Hood’s Bay.

The Victorian Bank Top with its elegant sea captain’s houses and the old village which dates back to the 16th century, although most of the cottages have had a facelift. The sweep of Georgian facades along Chapel Street is particularly elegant and names such as Tommy Baxter Street and Jim Bell’s Stile recall local figures.

Weekends are packed, even at this time of year, but come mid-week in January, you will share the village only with the seagulls.

You might happen on a few hardy artists and writers as you take a bracing walk along the beach. The tranquillity of Bay Town out of season makes it a favoured place for creative souls looking for peace and solitude.

Children love the place too, looking for fossils on the 170 million-year-old scaurs, which are among the finest fossil sites in Europe.

But take care on the beach with winter tides. The angry North Sea may be romantic to look at, but high tides whip in fast around here and the last thing you want is to be stranded half way to Ravenscar.

The sea may have long given Robin Hood’s Bay its income, but it came at a price. The worst disaster befell the village in the 1780s when 22 cottages fell into the sea after a major cliff fall.

Then, in January 1881, a ship named the Visitor ran aground in a violent storm. The weather was so bad they couldn’t launch the local lifeboat, so two hundred men and 18 horses hauled the one from Whitby across snow-covered moors.

Just two hours after leaving Whitby, the lifeboat took to sea and rescued the entire crew of the battered vessel. A plaque on New Road marks that momentous day.

Nobody knows for sure how Robin Hood’s Bay got its name. Some say the outlaw kept boats here in case he needed to escape in a hurry.

Others reckon Robin and Little John took part in an archery competition at Whitby Abbey and their arrows landed on Bay Town’s beach.

In truth, Robin Hood probably never visited, but John Wesley did and he regularly preached in Bay Town. Look out for the commemorative plate where he held meetings on The Square.

Wesley also conducted services in the chapel. Now it is home a smart café bar that does fantastic espresso. It’s well worth a visit, especially for the upstairs room, with original 1820s pew boxes, which makes a fine concert hall and cinema.

There is nowhere quite like Robin Hood’s Bay and certainly nowhere as atmospheric in winter. So forget bucket and spade holidays, take a mid-week walk through those tiny, windy ginnels and batten down the hatches as the wind howls through the eaves and driving rain patters against the window panes.

After all, there is a welcoming fire waiting in those cosy fisherman’s pubs.

What more could you want?