The Flamingos were the first to go.

I have driven between Malton and Pickering in North Yorkshire many, many times.

Heading northwards I always look out for two features. One is a Spitfire on stick. This forms the striking entrance to Eden Camp, a former Second World War POW Camp, but now a fascinating museum dedicated to the history of world conflict. It is a factual and not a jingoistic place where the overiding emotion upon leaving is one of sadness and above all a realisation of the futility of war.

The other landmark has the appearance of the skeletal frame of a dinosaur, head down in the verdant foliage, perfectly arched back and rib cage prominent and strong.

From the main road, a couple of miles away the scale of the thing cannot really be appreciated. It is the complete contrast with its surroundings that make the sight of it so striking. The topography is flat and shelved like a cereal bowl but about 10 miles across. The outer rim is wild and purple with heather or thickly wooded. It has been a struggle over millenia to make the land capable of cultivation and to sustain a population. Dry stone walls have been raised through  the back breaking clearance of parcels of ground that could as easily revert to the wild if neglected for more than a moment. The fields are regular and if seen from the higher ground, a patchwork of lush meadow, yellow ripened crop  and traditional, very English hardwood woodlands.

Shapes and shades are soft and natural under a wide and open sky. Against this backdrop rises the red oxide structure. It comes and goes into view through the dense hedgerows which flank the roadway. Its appearance is quite mesmerising and may account for the high accident and collision figures for that particular route. What is it?

The clues are in the directional signs at each junction and seemingly on the verge in front of every property. This is tourist country. Every resident appears to be determined to capture the attention and disposable income of those on holiday or just passing through.

There is undoubtedly a good volume of traffic as the corridor between the former Roman outpost of Malton and the market town of Pickering is the common convergence for those seeking the Moors, Coast, Forest Trails, steam railway and broad countryside of this part of God's own country.

The public houses are bright, clean and inviting offering all day breakfasts, leisurely lunches and dinners from 6pm.. Various farm gateways advertise camping and caravanning grounds. Cream Teas are evidently not the exclusive domain of Devon and Cornwall. Small scale market gardens have colourful displays of bedding plants and special one-off promotions although in a hot car travelling back later in the day to the large conurbations of west and south Yorkshire any purchase of flora and fauna would certainly be on the wilting and shrivelled up side of survival. .

Lavender farming is a comparatively new form of attraction being in an expansive landscape to wander about in or packaged up in lace and muslin bags to be gifted to maiden aunts who are the most appreciative to receive such on high days and birthdays. The fit and active are catered for with mountain bike hire, quad bikes and aerial zip wires.

Brown coloured Tourist Board signage is permanantly in view for the 'A' list attractions of Castle Howard and Dalby Forest and places to stay from converted barns to holiday cottages, country house hotels to log cabins. The list of activities and treats may give the impression of driving through a competitor for Las Vegas but the countryside remains largely unspoilt and has changed much to the regular visitors over the last 40 plus years. I know this from personal experience. That is of course with the exception of the present day silhouette of the Diplodocus on the horizon.

I had a school trip to this area in the 1970's. Flamingo Zoo it was called then because it was a zoo with, amongst its inmates, flamingos. It was, to a seven year old (me) very exciting even after a tortuous journey (pre Humber Bridge) involving a coach journey, river ferry crossing and another bus trip with frequent stops for wee-wee's ( me) , travel sickness (me, again) and misbehaviour of rude signs and mouthings to following motorists ( not me). A collection of animals, sad-eyed and a bit mental in their pacings and rituals was more than adequate to entertain us for a few hours before the traumatic return trip ( yes, me).

The same venue has undergone quite a change to capture the interest and imagination of its target audience. I think that the wildlife has long since gone and has been replaced with all the fun to be expected of an amusement park in what is now called Flamingo Land.

The prehistoric monster that dominates the landscape?

It is the Roller Coaster. In a world of intense competition for the tourist pound and to satisfy the seekers of thrills even this may soon fall out of favour and into extinction.