I went off to tell the camp owner that I wished to stay another night as the opportunity to sit and write in comfort was too good to miss. She nodded but said nothing. A while later she came into the room which was sort of an old army bunkhouse and said, “ah there you are, I wondered where you had gone, what are you doing here?” I said I was using the quiet environment to write a bit of my blog. She looked at me funny and said, “well this area is for the guests using the bunkhouse, so don't make a habit of it.”
I was gobsmacked. What did she mean make a habit of it? She had told me yesterday that this was for my use and now a one time usage was evidence of habit forming behaviour... I just don't understand some people. I can camp elsewhere for free and I specifically said that because of the opportunity to write I would stay an extra night. I had paid so not much point arguing the point with her.
After a while I got a bit of an awkward feeling so set out to go into the village and write despite the costs involved in sitting in pubs for a while. I did get a fantastic meal though. Fresh haddock and chips with mushy peas.The pub was not too busy and at one point I had to go and ask if they were closed and had forgotten I was inside, it was that quiet. They were open all day though. I had the opportunity to visit the harbour from the other side and go into the lifeboat building to see the semi rigid life craft they kept here. Pride of Leicester I believe. There was a very curved access ramp into the water and I wondered how easy it was to launch at low tide. At the back of the Cowbar which is a big rock on the north side rocks had clearly been falling recently onto the path that led to the end of the sea wall. I kept an eye out for further slippage as I made my way out to the end of the sea wall. I noticed that some plaques had been mounted on some of the large boulders set along the sea wall. Memories to the dead, probably villagers from Staithes, some recent. I felt the haunting echoes of the centuries washing over me during my walk, saw in my head the fisher wives waiting for news of their menfolks arrival and catches from their Cobles. Seagulls squawked and waves lashed the rocks as the tide came back in. I learned a lot about Staithes from reading the many boards set out by the local council. Richard from last evening had said that if I crossed the river as I was at the moment, then I was no longer in Yorkshire but in Cleveland. The town had a Cleveland post code both sides as the nearest sorting office was not in Yorkshire, despite actually being in both counties officially.
Back at the campsite I had a shower and got ready to visit the Captain Cook again. Though I had eaten a huge dinner and would not be able to manage another, I was sure that this place was where to meet the locals and the best source of history and facts. I got on with my blog again but soon got into a conversation with a man called Dave who was a grain merchant, and kept a blog on all things grainy....
We began with conspiracy theories and Dave said that I put up a good argument for the case for Elvis being alive still. Despite that Elvis would be a seriously old man now in his 80's. We rediscovered the 911 conspiracy theories too and many others.
I never knew so much work was being done with grain and Dave was able to fill me in on all the new uses for this resource. Apparently countries have certain targets to reach with regards renewable fuel sources and America for example are using 40% of their grain harvests to turn into ethanol which is used as about 2% of their gross fuel usage annually. It never ceased to shock me the way in which mankind so hungry for power by fuel continued to invent ways to keep using more energy rather than decrease the energy used. You only have to look at any of the office buildings on the A4 coming into London during the night to see how much waste we are guilty of, let alone the pollution it causes.
Dave was a lovely man who had plenty to talk about so I listened with keen attention, as I love to know things about all the things I know nothing about yet. Dave wasn't actually a village resident but he was staying here at the Hotel, and yet he knew a lot about the area, much like Richard the guy I was chatting with last night who also had appeared again this evening.
I noticed that there were a few new people here, though by their accents I guessed they were visiting like myself. A group of younger people who were clearly having a good time. When they left the pub the older of the two guys made an effort to engage with the locals as he had when entering earlier. His friend followed suit, and I noticed that this seemed less than a usual act, though it is one I would, and do adhere to myself. I thought this a very mature and admirable thing to have heard.
When Dave had ran out of things to say I finished the writing I had begun earlier and then packed my things away to leave. The pub was fairly busy when I left, but my bed was calling.
The pub was close to the campsite and only took a couple of minutes to reach. I did the ritual teeth brushing and then settled down in my comfy ( ha ha ha ) tent. I would definitely be leaving tomorrow.
Tent flaps zipped up and I was away with the fairy's, day 29 came to a sudden end.