Tall tales and true: of Yorkshire moors and the byways of Surrey: Sheep and jet on a moody moor day

The weather is taking a turn. We have had such a glorious September with only a couple of grey days with morning showers or whipped up afternoon waves. But warm. Most of September has been warm so we have rarely needed a jacket. October, however, is bringing a few ice chips on the wind coming from the north to remind us that winter is coming. So, today, we had to spend most of the day protected as we were all too lazy to return for our jackets once we realised we needed them. So, off we tootled to the Jet Museum in Whitby which has been saved on our Bucket List for such chilly days.

Jet, we discovered, is like coral and amber and pearl, it is quite organic. It does not come from minerals as do most gems. Instead, it comes from a plant: the monkey puzzle tree, in fact. Ancient monkey puzzle trees, to be precise. Way back in the Jurassic age these trees would have fallen, likely at the nudge of some large beast, then washed down into the mud where they lay absorbing oils and sludge from dying plants and plankton all around them, building up over the aeons, a little like peat layers. And as the earth moves, so do the layers. Way back jet surfaced, and has been mined once found. Bronze age folk used it, as did the Romans when they ruled this part of the world, mainly for decorative purposes.

Jet was found in and around Whitby from early days. Folk here used to collect and whittle it, fashioning small mementoes to sell as keepsakes to visitors, mainly rosary beads and small crosses: religious memorabilia to start with. The jet could be found by beach combing, as it was often washed down from the cliffs into the roiling waves and tumbled smooth onto the beach. Or, if one needed more, another technique was 'dressing' where a brave soul was lowered down a cliff by rope, to chop out inaccessible seams from the vertical side of the cliffs. But, as the railway reached Whitby, and as more and more tourists became enchanted with the little black gems to be found here, more and more jet was needed to meet demand so mining became the quickest way to supply jet in greater bulk. Men would hack and tunnel their way through cliffs, following thin seams of jet until they hit an unproductive face that signified it had run out.

Demand boomed for jet from Whitby once it was displayed at The Great Exhibition Hall at Crystal Palace in 1851. Then after Prince Alfred died, Queen Victoria wore only jet jewellery during her mourning period. Jet became the fashion, then, as everyone wore jet, so Whitby jet workers multiplied exponentially. Tiny workshops with sharp pointed tools and turning lathes soon took over every nook and cranny in the historic lanes of Whitby waterfront. Bakers, fishermen and cabinet makers soon flocked to become jet carving apprentices as the earnings for good jet carvers were way better than their own trades.

The boom lasted about as long as the fashion. Jet was at its peak in the 1870s in Whitby when there were some 1,400 workers and close to 100 workshops operating. But, by the turn of the century it had virtually died out. Whitby, though, is a charming addictive little tourist haven, and folk tend to visit again and again, as we do. We have never visited Whitby when the streets have been bare. Even when there is a chill in the air. Today was no different. Tourists were still out in droves and there are still jet stores up and down the characterful little Whitby lanes selling to tourists. Not least the Hammond shop where the Jet Museum is located. Here, they display in their cafe, the longest slab of jet ever recovered, some 21 feet, albeit, in several pieces now, where once there were cracks.

From Whitby we took a long lovely slow route home across the moors: one of our favourite things to do in Yorkshire. Some parts here are on narrow byways, and are so remote our company for much of the afternoon, was grazing sheep. We came upon spots we visited on our coast to coast walking trip, bringing back fond memories. We found other spots we have never visited, not least of which was the quiet village of Lealholm, rising up from the River Esk, where stones have been placed allowing passage for centuries. Lealholm grew attempting to service those crossing the river. Many of whom must have been shepherds, we figure, as there is a plaque on one of the buildings, that once was a hall but is now a teashop, that points to it being a meeting place for the Loyal Order of Ancient Shepherds, a society set up to take care of the family members of shepherds in times of hardship or need, as in sickness or death. Such charitable honourable motives in such a small remote place are heartening to see.