I was 10 when I first read “All Creatures Great and Small,” devouring each subsequent book that Alf Wight, under the pen name James Herriot, wrote about life as a veterinarian in his beloved Yorkshire Dales. I was a bit older when I encountered Bram Stoker’s “Dracula,” which opens in the seaside town of Whitby, where cliffs overlook the sea in which the ill-fated ship Demeter meets its end. In my teens, I discovered the wild moors and ancient halls of “Jane Eyre” and “Wuthering Heights.” More recently, I have been entranced by the work of Sally Wainwright, whose string of critically acclaimed series — ”Last Tango in Halifax,” “Happy Valley,” “Gentleman Jack” and “Riot Women” — have made her the modern bard of Yorkshire, England.
So when a friend, planning a visit to her daughter at Durham University, proposed I join her for a side trip of our own, I jumped at the chance to travel to a land I knew only through the eyes of others.
The Dales of James Herriot
In mid-April, I joined my friend Nancy in York, a city often mentioned in Yorkshire-based literature. On a sunny Saturday, we took a train to Thirsk, where Herriot, alongside Donald and Brian Sinclair (known in the books as Siegfried and Tristan Farnon) lived and worked in “Skeldale House,” now the World of James Herriot museum.
Lambing season in North Yorkshire.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
The city sprawl quickly gave way to stone-walled fields full of dazzling yellow rape and spring-green grass dotted with sheep and frolicking lambs. April is lambing season, the perfect time to visit Herriot Country. “All young animals are appealing,” he wrote, “but the lamb has been given an unfair share of charm.”
Situated between the North York Moors and Yorkshire Dales national parks, Thirsk (known as Darrowby in the Herriot books) is a market town, organized around a great open plaza in which stands a clock tower that on this day was decorated with rather splendid floral creations by the Thirsk Yarnbombers, in celebration of its 10th anniversary.
Even so, it looks much as it must have when Herriot lived here — modern businesses housed in medieval and Georgian buildings. Surely the Ritz Cinema is the theater Herriot describes as he begins his courtship of Helen Alderson; a blue circle marker proudly declares its date of establishment as a picture house, 1912.
The entrance to the World of James Herriot in Thirsk, North Yorkshire.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
The World of James Herriot museum is a sudden splash of crimson and white signage on an otherwise ordinary, albeit charming, street; at the far end stands St. Mary’s Church, where Herriot married his actual wife, Joan Anderson. When we visited the church later that afternoon, they were cleaning up from a community tea and I spoke with a woman who remembered Herriot and especially his son Jim and daughter Rosie, who were the town vet and doctor, respectively, for many years.
The museum, on the first floor, is a re-creation of “Skeldale House,” down to the pint pot in which Siegfried kept the petty cash and the old central telephone. There’s a display documenting the evolution of the books — originally printed in the UK, beginning in 1972, under different names, until a struggling St. Martin’s Press published two of them with the title “All Creatures Great and Small” and helped turn Herriot into a franchise.
The old central telephone at the World of James Herriot museum in Thirsk.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
Various outbuildings now house a small screening room, where clips from a documentary on Herriot’s life play, as well as a re-creation of the TV studio and set on which the 1978 television series was filmed. The set from the current PBS series, which began in 2020, is in another part of the museum, which also includes an extensive exhibit of historic veterinarian instruments.
As we wandered through the town and the museum, Herriot the man came to life as lyrically as his fiction. A country vet, whose career began before the age of antibiotics and many now-commonplace vaccines, wrote, beginning at age 50, a series of semi-autobiographical novels that would become international bestsellers and launch several films and two series, one of which was filming 35 miles away in Grassington.
He never left the Dales, or stopped being a vet; during his lifetime, fans would line the street outside his practice, waiting for autographs and photos. Twenty years after his death, Thirsk remains both an ordinary Yorkshire town (the only Herriot memorabilia advertised is in the museum gift shop) and an enduring tourist destination. (If you go, may I recommend lunch/tea at Upstairs, Downstairs, where I got a life-changing Yorkshire rarebit with bacon and fried egg as well as a sack of the local sweet, cinder toffee.)
Grassington, North Yorkshire, becomes a film set for “All Creatures Great and Small.”
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
Deeper in the Dales, Nancy and I rented a “glamping pod” in Malhamdale. On our way, we stopped in Grassington, where the town was being transformed into Darrowby with period-and-place-appropriate signs, advertisements and community announcements. “Open as usual but dressed for filming” read a sign in the window of the Stripey Badger Bookshop, Coffee Shop and Kitchen.
Filming would take place in two days’ time, so we returned then to see the square come alive with extras in period clothing. Within the crowd of fellow onlookers, controlled by lovely but firm crew members, we watched as a scene between Siegfried (Samuel West) and Tristan (Callum Woodhouse) was filmed outside the Drovers Arms.
A breathtaking view and unique fractured “pavement” at Malham Cove.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
We had chosen Malhamdale because its limestone topography is considered the most stunning of the Dales. And that it most certainly is.
From the village of Malham we hiked to Malham Cove, which rose in near miraculous silver splendor among the sylvan greenery, and then ascended the nearly 500 steps to its top. There, a breathtaking view and unique fractured “pavement” has been used in countless films, including “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” and the 1992 “Wuthering Heights.” We followed the trail to the Gordale Scar, a glorious gorge and waterfall that is also a favorite filming spot, and thence to Janet’s Foss, a woodland waterfall and pool, beside a cave where the queen of the fairies is said to live.
Janet’s Foss, a woodland waterfall and pool.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
After just three days in the Dales, I clearly understood why no amount of money or fame had convinced Herriot and his family to leave.
Dracula town
Windswept Whitby sits on the east coast of Yorkshire, with its back to the North York Moors National Park and its face to the North Sea. It climbs either side of a valley created by the River Esk, as it joins the port where whalers once launched and Captain Cook first commandeered the HMS Endeavour.
On the west side, the street along the harbor is chockablock with venues catering to tourists and daytrippers come to enjoy the pier and small beaches. Families rent crab pots and put their catch in plastic buckets held by delighted children. Atop the cliffs behind, Georgian homes, hotels and guest houses stand in gracious testament to Whitby’s Victorian history as a popular spa town, as it was when Stoker visited in 1890. He stayed in a West Cliff guest house, gazing, as everyone must do, across the harbor where the remains of the 13th century Whitby Abbey dominate the East Cliff.
The harbor at Whitby, North Yorkshire.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
Even under a beaming sun, the ruins, aproned by the graveyard of the nearby Norman church of St. Mary’s, carve a formidable black silhouette against the sky. Beneath are the roofs and cobbled streets of the medieval Old Town, where ancient pubs stand among jewelers specializing in local jet. To reach the abbey, visitors must climb the town’s famous 199 steps that rise along the cliff.
“It is a most noble ruin,” Mina Harker writes in her journal in early chapters of “Dracula.” “Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbor.”
Here Mina and her friend Lucy Westenra sit among the graves, sketching and talking, later, watching clouds gather for the storm that would bring the Demeter, and Count Dracula, to Whitby. Here too Mina would see, from the West Cliff, her sleepwalking friend half reclining on “our favorite seat” and for a moment “it seemed to me as though something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it.”
The remains of Whitby Abbey.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
We visited on a sunny day, and the wind blew hard as we traced Mina and Lucy’s steps through the tombs and along the path past the Abbey toward Robin Hood’s Bay. With its glorious views and picturesque harbor, Whitby is the antithesis of gothic horror. Still, it was here that Stoker, researching another novel, first read of Vlad the Impaler, otherwise known as Dracula, and no doubt heard of the wreck of the Russian ship Dmitry, which had run aground beneath East Cliff five years before his visit.
And so the godfather of modern horror was born.
Brontë Country
It is difficult to imagine a fictional tale more gothic, inspirational and remarkable than that of three brilliant sisters who lived in relative isolation on the edge of the Yorkshire Moors, secretly battling their socially conscripted futures by writing poems and novels that they dared not publish under their own names.
The Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth, North Yorkshire.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
Two of those novels — ”Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Brontë and “Wuthering Heights” by Emily Brontë, are still considered masterworks, influencing subsequent generations and endlessly adapted for film and television. (In the ultimate Yorkshire crossover, Wainwright wrote the breathtaking two-part Brontë biopic “To Walk Invisible,” which everyone should see.)
The Brontë Parsonage Museum, and the town of Haworth which it overlooks, is very much a tourist attraction. An information annex, gift shop and public restroom have been added behind it, but once you enter the small garden that stands between the parsonage’s front door and St. Michael and All Angels’ Church, you are in another world.
In 1820, Patrick Brontë, recently appointed incumbent of St. Michael, moved his wife, Maria, and their six children into the parsonage where they all lived for the rest of their natural (albeit in most cases, short) lives. Maria died in 1821; the two older children, Maria and Elizabeth, died four years later after being sent to a typhoid-plagued school Charlotte would pillory as Lowood in “Jane Eyre.”
The museum is meticulously restored to reflect the years that the surviving children — Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell, the only son — were young adults. The dining room table, where the sisters wrote, is strewn with manuscripts, quill pens and tea cups; a bonnet and shawl bedeck a chair in the small kitchen. Patrick had his own study but it is difficult to imagine three women being able to write separate works, never mind classics, in such close quarters. Ironically, only Branwell’s room, papered with sketches and poems, looks like an artist’s refuge.
St. Michael and All Angels’ Church in the town of Haworth.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
Unlike his three sisters, Branwell, his artistic career stunted by alcoholism and an opium addiction, never published. He died of tuberculosis in 1848 at 31.
If any place should be haunted, it is the Brontë parsonage. Shortly after Branwell’s funeral (and just a year after “Wuthering Heights” was published), 30-year-old Emily also died of tuberculosis, expiring on the sofa that stands beside the dining room table. A few months later, after the publication of her second novel, “The Tenant of Wildfell Hall,” Anne, 29, succumbed to the disease in nearby Scarborough, just south of Whitby.
Charlotte, who wrote two more novels after “Jane Eyre,” was the only sister to be celebrated during her lifetime. She married and then died at the parsonage in 1855 at 38 of complications from her first pregnancy. Only Patrick lived to old age — 84 — dying in 1861 in the home where he had served for 41 years.
The Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth, North Yorkshire.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
But it is not a sad house; instead visitors are left to wonder at the genius, resolution and audacity that roiled the quiet rooms and halls where the sisters secretly wrote and sent out their manuscripts, all initially under the the names of Currer (Charlotte), Ellis (Emily) and Acton (Anne) Bell.
The steeply descending main street of Haworth is filled with tea shops, pubs and stores clearly dedicated to pleasing Brontë pilgrims, but its basic form, including the original stationery store where the sisters once bought their paper, remains the same.
As do the moors that stretch behind the parsonage. On a walk to the Brontë Waterfall (more like a small but still lovely rill) and Top Withens, the ruin of a 16th century farmhouse believed to have inspired “Wuthering Heights,” the wild silence and sweeping vistas are even more transporting than the parsonage. One imagines not the ghost of Cathy or Heathcliff, but a trio of women, very much alive and striding through the heather, their minds alight with the stories they would tell, set among similar terrain.
Wainwright’s Way
Our final accommodation on this literary sojourn was Holdsworth House, a manor hotel near Halifax where screenwriter Wainwright and her casts often stay during filming, and where Alan (Derek Jacobi) and Celia (Anne Reid) were married in “Last Tango in Halifax.”
Holdsworth House, a manor hotel near Halifax.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
With creaking floors, fireplaces, a first-class restaurant, mullioned windows and a lovely garden, Holdsworth House would be glorious even without its famous connections (including a 1964 stay by the Beatles). Plans for at least two weddings were being discussed by staff during our sojourn.
On our way there, we stopped in Heptonstall, a tiny town above Hebden Bridge, where Sylvia Plath is buried in the St. Thomas A’ Becket churchyard. Her husband, Ted Hughes, was born in the nearby town of Mytholmroyd and though they were estranged at the time of her death, he was her next of kin and chose the site, and the stone, on which the poet is identified as Sylvia Plath Hughes above an epitaph that reads: “Even amidst fierce flames, the golden lotus can be planted.”
Heptonstall, a tiny town above Hebden Bridge, where Sylvia Plath is buried in the St. Thomas A’ Becket churchyard.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
There are no signs directing visitors to Plath’s resting place; we relied on Apple Maps and my memory of a brief glimpse of it in Wainwright’s “Happy Valley” (Becky, the daughter of main character Catherine Cawood [Sarah Lancashire], is buried nearby). Looking for the piles of pens that once adorned Plath’s grave didn’t help; it is now blanketed in planted flowers. A few pens have been left on the headstone, which has been replaced at least once; generations of fans have attempted to obliterate “Hughes.”
Down the hill in Hebden Bridge, Wainwright’s world comes miraculously to life — the canals with their longboats, on which Catherine battled Tommy Lee Royce (James Norton); the Albert pub which proudly announces on a placard that it is the Duke of Wellington in “Riot Women”; even the public car park where Alan had his car stolen while meeting Celia for the first time in “Last Tango.”
The canal at Hebden Bridge.
(Mary McNamara / Los Angeles Times)
While driving around Hebden Bridge and towns surrounding nearby Halifax, I more than once imagined I was Catherine Cawood and marveled at Wainwright’s loyalty to this land, its cities, towns, farms and moors. Her series are inevitably female-centric and like the Brontës, who wrote 200 years and a few miles away, her work excavates the drama of daily life and the tension between good and evil that sings below any surface.
Travel writer Emma Cooke has recommended a perfect day trip, a charming East Sussex seaside town with a cliff Railway, pretty cherry blossoms, and seafront brunch with no queues
12:27, 04 May 2026Updated 12:27, 04 May 2026
The East Sussex town has a lot to offer (file picture)(Image: Adam Gerrard / Daily Express)
With summer just around the corner, you might be thinking about a day out by the sea, or even a longer seaside holiday. One travel influencer has the ideal recommendation for a destination with a lot to offer, from relaxing on the beach, to travelling on a cliff railway.
London travel writer Emma Cooke shared footage of an East Sussex coastal town, highlighting the cliff railway, charming beach huts, spectacular hilltop panoramas, and beautiful cherry blossoms.
She explained: “POV: You got on a £15 train out of London and less than two hours later found a crowd-free seaside town full of cherry blossom. There’s an old town packed with bookshops and bakeries, £1.70 clifftop tea, seafront brunch with no queues, perfect beach sunsets, and almost every sight is free or under £5.”
The destination in question is the south coast resort town of Hastings, in East Sussex. Tourism website 1066 Country says: “To soak up Hastings’ history, wander the preserved Old Town’s winding streets and tiny twittens, crammed with Tudor houses and flower-bedecked cottages, and inhale the hard-working fishing quarter with its towering net huts and ramshackle huts on the beach.”
A ‘twitten’ is a Sussex term for a narrow passageway or alley nestled between two buildings, typically leading to courtyards, streets, or open spaces beyond, reports MyLondon.
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The site goes on: “Heading west, the alternative vibe continues as you arrive in St Leonards. Purpose-built in the 1800s by James and Decimus Burton as a genteel seaside resort for the aristocracy, its architecture provides a striking backdrop for art galleries, antique shops, chic boutiques and a thriving café culture.”
It further states: “Hastings Old Town lies in a valley between the East and West Hills, each with their own funicular railway.
“Take the East Hill Lift from the fishing beach up to Hastings Country Park, where on clear days you can see from Beachy Head to Dungeness and as far as Folkestone and the coast of France.
“Take the West Hill Lift from George Street, up through a tunnel of rock to emerge into the tranquil light of another world.
“Explore Smugglers Adventures at a labyrinth of caverns hidden deep within the West Hill, packed with the thrilling history of smugglers, bootleggers and warring bloodthirsty gangs.”
Commenters were brimming with praise for the town. One declared: “I live here and it’s amazing.”
Another posted: “Hastings is wonderful.” And someone else said: Gorgeous place and lovely people. I recommend Hastings.””
A different person responded: “Never expected to see my hometown in one of your travel reels. Where is the £1.70 tea from?!”
Emma replied: “The little tea van up on top of west hill lift! Think it’s just called ‘kiosk’.”
Nestled along the British coastline is a paradise for rock poolers and fossil hunters — and Conde Nast Travel has named it one of the seven wonders of Wales
It’s the local’s favourite spot by the coast(Image: John Myers)
While Rhossili Bay typically steals the limelight with its three-mile stretch of sand in the Gower National Landscape, this cherished bay is what many locals regard as Wales‘ true hidden gem.
Conde Nast Travel recently unveiled what they deem the seven wonders of Wales, compiled by a Welsh-born traveller, and Dunraven Bay secured its place as one of the nation’s essential destinations.
According to the publication, this is where residents head when seeking a peaceful coastal escape. And, with scenery comprising dramatic cliffs, limestone formations and weathered rock faces, it’s easy to understand why.
Tucked away in Southerndown within the Vale of Glamorgan, South Wales, the stunning bay is frequently called Southerndown Beach, adopting the name from its neighbouring village.
It boasts some of the finest rock pools along the Welsh coast and is consequently a favourite location for crabbing and fossil hunting. Young children delight in exploring the shallow pools and discovering treasures, as families flock to the bay for a day on the sand.
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One previous visitor shared their experience on TripAdvisor, writing: “We visited Dunraven Bay last Saturday; it was an amazing trip to a beautiful beach. The rock pools are super; we found some very interesting items, including an intact Gryphaea, one of the genera known as ‘devil’s toenails’.
“The beach is very clean, and the sand leading up to the sea is soft. There is a beachside shop that sells hot and cold drinks and ice cream, along with a picnic area for those with their own food.”
Visitors to the beach will find a generously sized, conveniently situated pay-and-display car park, along with toilet facilities. The bay also boasts a charming café and restaurant, perfect for a leisurely lunch or light bite, and rounding off the quintessential seaside experience, there’s an ice-cream kiosk.
A further visitor shared: “Absolutely beautiful. Especially if you’re a tourist hoping to get good photos of a beach. I went alone, and for the most part, I felt completely safe. There are pockets of people and people alone just hoping to enjoy the sun during low tide.”
History and folklore
The bay was once thought to have been an ancient Iron Age hillfort, which subsequently became Dunraven Castle, a structure that has long since disappeared. In its place lie the crumbling ruins of the castle and its former walled garden, tucked away from the shoreline.
The bay is steeped in mysterious legend, notably that of the ‘wreckers of Dunraven’, who were said to have cunningly fastened lanterns to sheep in order to lure passing vessels. They would draw the ships towards Tuskar Rock before swooping in to plunder their cargo.
The most notorious ‘wrecker’ was one Walter Vaughan, who, following tremendous personal loss and financial devastation, turned to ‘wrecking’ out of sheer desperation.
To evade detection, legend suggests that no sailors or boat crew survived the wrecking, as they would routinely kill those onboard once they reached the shore.
Some claim that on the anniversary of his son’s death, Vaughan’s ghost returns to the beach, and those passing by can hear his chilling wails.
