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cincinnatus_c
Currently at Toronto Pearson: 18. High today: 22. The cold season is plotting one last incursion on Sunday and Monday.
(Yes, it is Wednesday and I am still here rather than opening the cottage. Too many things!!!)
The closing of the bridge had been a burning issue on the evening of Day 4 because Day 4 was Monday, and Monday is (There Is No) Bonfire Day at Whitby, and the bonfire is (not) held on a bit of beach on the abbey side of town, while most people (including us) stay on the other side. It was an issue, as opposed to just a fact, because for some reason there was mass confusion as to whether the bridge was actually going to close for repairs at midnight or not, possibly because everyone who tried to read the notice about it, or maybe more to the point tried vigorously to propagate their interpretation of it, was drunk. Anyway, there was (not) a bonfire and the bridge did (really) close at midnight.
Drew, keeper of the fire, summons the flames:
Fire is hot:
And fiery:
An integral part of the bonfire is (not) something called maffball (which I was somewhat disappointed to learn is not actually called mathball, which seemed suitably nonsensical, as opposed to maffball, which just seems silly, but is apparently named after a guy called Maff who introduced maffball from Wales, or something). Maffball is a, uh, "noncompetitive exercise" I believe was the term, performed by hurling flaming rolls of toilet paper at other maffball participants while in one's underpants and coated in jelly. We unfortunately missed Drew's pronouncement of the rules of maffball due to our having taken a shortcut to the beach, but we were later informed that they are three, as follows: (1) Don't play maffball. (2) Don't play maffball. (3) If you are on fire, don't run into the sea. [ETA: except that kest notes that the rules are actually: (1) Don't be on fire. (2) Don't be on fire. (3) If you are on fire, don't run into the sea.]
Bonfire with maffball:
Maffball in action:
Our first excursion on Day 4 was to the beach on the abbey side, which is nobody's idea of a beach--
--but is certainly better than most ideas of a beach as far as I'm concerned. This rocky beach is packed with fossils, mostly ammonites--
--but kest also found a piece of apparent fossilized squid, and the Whitby museum has skeletons of scarier things people have pulled out of the rocks. The worst thing about this beach is you can't take a step without committing mass snailslaughter (not to be confused with mass snails-laughter) because those snails you see on the ammonite are everywhere. I suspect there are more snails on that beach than there are people in the world. Also, cockles and mussels alive alive-o:
L. dubs this "ladybird rock":
Here's the Interesting Geological Formation that marked the end of our walk:
The view back toward the Whitby piers:
Another fossil-type-thing Whitby is known for is jet. My father, having done some research into why the hell we were going to Whitby, instructed me to bring him back some jet cufflinks; while I was at it, I picked up this little jet owl--it's about an inch tall--for L.:
In between the rocky beach and the bonfire, we went to the arcades--
--(the dude in the hat being a.g.'s own Edward Scissorhands, who secured our most excellent cottage) where I, uh, won this here bracelet of Jesus & Friends--
--for L. at a penny-pusher game. I must say, this is the rare arcade prize that actually seems better after you've won it than it did before.
After the arcades, before sunset, I went for a stroll around the piers and took these pictures of the beach we had walked across hours earlier:
(Yes, it is Wednesday and I am still here rather than opening the cottage. Too many things!!!)
The closing of the bridge had been a burning issue on the evening of Day 4 because Day 4 was Monday, and Monday is (There Is No) Bonfire Day at Whitby, and the bonfire is (not) held on a bit of beach on the abbey side of town, while most people (including us) stay on the other side. It was an issue, as opposed to just a fact, because for some reason there was mass confusion as to whether the bridge was actually going to close for repairs at midnight or not, possibly because everyone who tried to read the notice about it, or maybe more to the point tried vigorously to propagate their interpretation of it, was drunk. Anyway, there was (not) a bonfire and the bridge did (really) close at midnight.
Drew, keeper of the fire, summons the flames:
Fire is hot:
And fiery:
An integral part of the bonfire is (not) something called maffball (which I was somewhat disappointed to learn is not actually called mathball, which seemed suitably nonsensical, as opposed to maffball, which just seems silly, but is apparently named after a guy called Maff who introduced maffball from Wales, or something). Maffball is a, uh, "noncompetitive exercise" I believe was the term, performed by hurling flaming rolls of toilet paper at other maffball participants while in one's underpants and coated in jelly. We unfortunately missed Drew's pronouncement of the rules of maffball due to our having taken a shortcut to the beach, but we were later informed that they are three, as follows: (1) Don't play maffball. (2) Don't play maffball. (3) If you are on fire, don't run into the sea. [ETA: except that kest notes that the rules are actually: (1) Don't be on fire. (2) Don't be on fire. (3) If you are on fire, don't run into the sea.]
Bonfire with maffball:
Maffball in action:
Our first excursion on Day 4 was to the beach on the abbey side, which is nobody's idea of a beach--
--but is certainly better than most ideas of a beach as far as I'm concerned. This rocky beach is packed with fossils, mostly ammonites--
--but kest also found a piece of apparent fossilized squid, and the Whitby museum has skeletons of scarier things people have pulled out of the rocks. The worst thing about this beach is you can't take a step without committing mass snailslaughter (not to be confused with mass snails-laughter) because those snails you see on the ammonite are everywhere. I suspect there are more snails on that beach than there are people in the world. Also, cockles and mussels alive alive-o:
L. dubs this "ladybird rock":
Here's the Interesting Geological Formation that marked the end of our walk:
The view back toward the Whitby piers:
Another fossil-type-thing Whitby is known for is jet. My father, having done some research into why the hell we were going to Whitby, instructed me to bring him back some jet cufflinks; while I was at it, I picked up this little jet owl--it's about an inch tall--for L.:
In between the rocky beach and the bonfire, we went to the arcades--
--(the dude in the hat being a.g.'s own Edward Scissorhands, who secured our most excellent cottage) where I, uh, won this here bracelet of Jesus & Friends--
--for L. at a penny-pusher game. I must say, this is the rare arcade prize that actually seems better after you've won it than it did before.
After the arcades, before sunset, I went for a stroll around the piers and took these pictures of the beach we had walked across hours earlier:
