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Dales memories, chasing nymphs and Daleks

I went memory jogging in the Dales this week. I didn’t plan to – it just happened. As I was driving out of Hawes up the Fleet Moss road which links Wensleydale with Wharfedale a flashback to the 1970s occurred. I recalled the day when four of us were in an old Morris Minor heading up this road. The car was struggling on the long ascent so two of got out and walked up the rest of the hill. We were never far behind the car on our trek to the top.

This is Sleddale, is one of the short narrow dales I like, squeezed between Dodd and Wether fells with just a few habitations at the top end. Hard to believe there was once coal mining and lime burning going on here. I parked the car at the junction with the Roman Cam Road which runs up from Ribblehead and carries on to Bainbridge. The newly tarred road here looks and feels out of place, like someone’s used an indelible black marker across a Turner painting. The surfaced lane terminates at the isolated settlement of Cam Houses. On the western side of the moor are fabulous views across to Whernside and Ingleborough. From Cam Houses to Gearstones the track is rough but has been smoothed out somewhat to facilitate the transportation by wagons of tons of wood. Sitka spruce was planted in Cam Wood during the late 1960s ‘as an investment opportunity’. Around a quarter of the site will remain to help maintain a red squirrel population.

While here I witnessed the beginning of the Dalek invasion of the dales. Looks like they are making their way towards Wharfedale and have already exterminated a few sheep. One of the Daleks seems to have slipped on some sheep muck – perhaps their assault on the world is doomed for failure? Picture above shows the view the Daleks have of Wensleydale.

After wandering around with my head in the clouds for a while (see first photo in blog), looking at the changing light across Wensleydale, I trundled down through Oughtershaw and stopped by the infant River Wharfe to look up at Cowside Farm, pictured below along with my old pic from 2008. Back in 2008 I visited the then derelict farm before writing about an appeal in Dalesman aimed at raising funds for its restoration. The Landmark Trust co-ordinated the appeal and the farm reopened in 2011 as a splendid self-catering spot – see details here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Q6BVOnpbsU

After a couple of snaps in Langstrothdale I had a wee stop in Buckden where again my memory was jogged. I’d spent several weekends in the 1970s at Buckden House (and also the Buck Inn and the George at Hubberholme; oh, and the White Lion at Cray … not to forget the Fox & Hounds at Starbotton. I think we also enjoyed a few pints in Kettlewell, too… anyway, I digress) I was on an Outdoor Activities course. I was pleased to see the big old house still buzzing with youngsters being introduced to the dales. I’d also spent a few bob on Mars Bars and Skittles at the old Post Office/village store in those days. I notice it is now for sale for anyone with half a million to spare. While here I also recalled a time even further back when I cycled up to Buckden and the dales from the Heavy Woollen District. The old picture isn’t of that visit but you get the idea.

Strangers in the dales

Through Wharfedale I turned off to Arncliffe and a reminder of the time at the Falcon Inn where I remember a couple of tourists staring mouths agape at being served beer from a jug. From cosy Arncliffe the road to Malham via Darnbrook transports you into a sparse, rugged and spectacular environment. Here strangely named places such as Scoska, Brootes, Clowder, Studdleber and Yew Cogar add to the aura. After I dropping down the Alpine-style road to Darnbrook and along the pastures I stopped in a passing place to let a car, well … pass. The young driver wound down the window and asked where the nearest city was. The expression on my face and high-pitched reply of ‘CITY?’ obviously alerted him to his mistake and he changed his query to ‘town’. A young girl in the passenger seat asked if they were in the Yorkshire Dales. I was a bit lost for words, to be honest. I named a few villages which received blank looks, then mentioned Grassington to which someone in the back seat acknowledged vague recognition. I then looked at the inexperienced driver and pointed to the narrow road behind me on the hillside with its 1 in 4 incline and hairpin bends and said ‘Are you sure you want to go up that?’ Anyway, there was nothing on the news later that day about missing day-trippers.

You can see the road from Darnbrook if you look closely at the picture, behind the sheep playing ‘king of the castle’.

Dales nymphs

I can’t think what reminded me of satyrs chasing nymphs, must have been some spam email I received. Anyway, the thought brought to mind the ebbing and flowing well at Giggleswick (bear with me). I’ve read somewhere that this phenomenon was created when a nymph who was being chased by a satyr prayed to the gods for help. They turned her into a spring of water, which still ebbs and flows with her panting breaths. Right, yes, of course they did. However, the well at the foot of Giggleswick Scar was once a big pull for Victorian tourists and other more ancient visitors to the Settle area. Nowadays you risk your life if you want to see the phenomenon, as it’s on the edge of the Buckhaw Brow road down which traffic speeds up to 60mph within inches of the well. I chose a quiet time to take this picture so you don’t have to get run over. It still ebbs and flows – not as much as it once did … I’m not going into a lengthy explanation here about the science behind it but you can find out more at
https://megalithix.wordpress.com/2008/09/12/ebbing-flowing-well-giggleswick-north-yorkshire-holy-well/

Thursday morning was cold and frosty. I had a short walk across Moorhead Lane from the Silverdale Road above Stainforth over towards Helwith Bridge. The distant views down Ribblesdale with Pendle in the background were a little misty but to the north-west Ingleborough was clear. There were plenty of lapwings fussing around a field where the farmer had been muck spreading. I thought I heard a curlew, which would have been my first this year, but I didn’t spot it. They usually know when spring is on its way, but I still think winter will have sting its tail.

I couldn’t let the blog go with a photo of Penyghent which looked fabulous again the blue sky this week. Shot taken from Selside.

Ribblesdale buildings, 3 Peaks priorities, service with a smile

It’s another soggy Sunday in Ribblesdale. On this day last week I was heading out up the dale in sunshine under a bright blue sky. Viewed from the western flanks, the pastures in the valley bottom looked almost summery. My stroll took me through Little Stainforth – or Knight Stainforth (I’m never sure which title the locals prefer) – where the white-painted old hall always catches my eye. Approached via the minor road from Giggleswick, the building looks impressive lit up by the winter sun.

I often blog about the old barns, churches and farmhouses here in Ribblesdale but there are also many fine larger buildings belonging to ancient families and landowners. In his epic series of books, The Buildings of England, Nikolaus Pevsner picks out my favourite Settle building, The Folly. He describes it in his rather pompous manner as being ‘a large, remarkably ambitious town-house … its details are in many ways capricious and wilful’. Of Langcliffe Hall he states, ‘The outer surround no doubt by the same workmen as the Folly. Very curious, somewhat viscous forms’.
He’s quite rude and dismissive of Stainforth Hall which he says is ‘A somewhat bleak, three-storeyed house of the late c17’. If he’d bothered to investigate a little further he would have found lots more interesting facts which extend the building’s history way back to Norman times. If you want a proper description of the place log in to www.knightstainforth.co.uk (and also visit the splendid new eating place opposite the hall – www.theknightstable.co.uk).
Another favourite old building of mine lies further up the dale above Selside – Lodge Hall, or Ingman’s Lodge, a large farmhouse dated 1687. Unfortunately, this grand old structure is deteriorating, and it is on Historic England’s ‘at risk’ list. As you drive up and down the dale you can see many other beautiful roadside buildings, typical of the Yorkshire dales. But when you step out on foot along the old packhorse tracks even more gems can be seen. I hope to feature further fine Ribblesdale buildings when/if the weather improves.

High value in Ribblesdale

Nowadays I’m not very good with heights. I’m ok on the tops of Yorkshire’s hills, but ask me to go up a long ladder or a swaying tower and I’d soon feel the old legs all-a-wobble. I probably couldn’t skip across Striding Edge like I did in my twenties, that’s for sure. These thoughts came to me this week as I read of the new tower being built in Brighton – well, it’s not fair that southerners have to sully themselves by having to head north to Blackpool is it? The new i360 structure will take people up 450ft for a view along the south coast. It is predicted that ‘passengers’ will pay around £15 a ride and the cost of the construction is already topping £46m. I’ll stick to the local views, thanks. Castleberg Rock in Settle stands around 700ft above sea level, its construction cost nowt and it is free to use – and the panoramas are better than those around Brighton… in my humble opinion, of course.

I tried but failed to grab a twilight picture of a track near Langcliffe this week. I didn’t get the foreground lighting right but it might appeal to some.

No problem with the lighting on my little jaunt over Buttertubs on Monday, but by-hecky-thump it wasn’t half cold. I posted the normal view looking up Swaledale on t’interweb during the week, so here’s one looking t’other way.

Peaks & Scones

This week I received a polite reminder that my subscription to the Friends of the Three Peaks is due. Run in association with the Yorkshire Dales National Park, the Friends project undertakes a lot of work in and around Ribblesdale. Three Peaks Ranger, Josh Hull, tells of work carried out over the last few months: ‘This year on the Three Peaks at lot has been done. In major projects we have laid 100m of flags on Whernside, 160m on Ingleborough and re-laid another 250m of sinking flags on Whernside (which have been in for around 20 years!). In other general work, 3 wooden ladder stiles have been replaced with stone steps stiles, installed approximately 15 new cross drains, 100m of subsoiling on Whernside summit and over 1.5km of ditching.’ More details here
http://www.yorkshiredales.org.uk/looking-after/howyoucanhelp/friends-of-the-three-peaks

I had some good sightings of two of the peaks on Thursday when I followed the Pennine Bridleway from Helwith Bridge to Feizor. A lovely walk in sunshine with great views all round – including Ribblesdale to Penyghent, and over Wharfe village to Norber and Ingleborough. From the brow were far-reaching views over Feizor, Wenningdale and beyond.

Tea & scone at Elaine’s Tearooms was, as always, gorgeous. Call me old fashioned if you must, but how refreshing it is to see smiling, cheerful, helpful staff like those at Elaine’s. Maybe it’s born or bred into country folk to be welcoming. Not long ago I ordered my tea and scone in a well-known outlet on the outskirts of Manchester. I tried to connect with the person serving me but she was obviously carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and couldn’t be bothered with me, the customer paying her wage (and the scone was stale as well).

Setting the tone

Are you are scone as in tone, or a scone as in long, person? The ‘tone’ version was always considered posh where I grew up but then I am a pleb and my working-class background often surfaces. This little ditty was part of my upbringing and you’ll probably only understand it if you had a similar childhood:
We’re down in t’ coyle ‘oyle
Weer t’ muck slarts on t’ winders
We’ve used all us coyle up
And we’re rait down t’ cinders,
But if bum bailiff comes
Ee’ll nivver findus
Cos we’ll be in t’ coyle ‘oyle
Weer t’ muck slarts on t’ winders.

Fire-breathing monsters in Ribblesdale

I love maps. From where I’m typing this in my Ribblesdale cottage I can see about 20 of them, balancing precariously on a shelf. I have an 1841 tithe map of Langcliffe framed and hung on a wall. I often read maps instead of a books; I’m forever scouring them for new features or to compile fresh walks. There’s probably a polite name for someone with such an obsession. But I wonder if the end of the large folded paper map is upon us. I hope not. This week the OS were trying to flog a new deal for online mapping for smartphones. You can get unlimited mapping plus a host of other clever do-dahs for an annual fee. I can’t afford a smartphone or indeed yet another annual fee, so when I’m out in the Dales I’ll continue to bumble along in my quaint old-fashioned way – so I hope they are kept up to date. One day last summer I was out on the moors above Dent, sitting on a rock, eating a sandwich and reading a map. A couple of hikers approached me and asked for guidance because their gizmo had ‘died’. Smug, is how I would describe my mood that day. They were foolish not to take a proper map – no batteries required.

Ribblesdale mayhem?

In last week’s blog I went off on one about HS2 and how the high-speed railway will destroy much countryside just to cut a few minutes off a journey. I compared my anger to that of people of Ribblesdale when the Settle-Carlisle line was cut through the dale. Out of interest (it was raining again) I pored over a pre-railway OS map of the route – published in 1842. As much as I admire the engineering feat needed to take the railway through some very tricky parts of Ribblesdale, its construction must have caused mayhem. And let’s face it, as much as many people enjoy seeing the big old steam locos chugging up and down the line today, residents at the time would have dreaded the great fire-breathing monsters spewing out filthy smoke and making a noise like a herd of rampaging elephants. The incline from Settle to Ribblehead passes over some tough terrain – everything from solid rock to boggy marshes. Much of the work was done manually as the line inched up Ribblesdale; so hats off to the poorly-paid workers whose section is still providing services.
The same can’t be said about the route further north, near Appleby, where ground saturated by unprecedented rainfall has become unstable. The line could be closed for several months for repairs. I hope this doesn’t put passengers off coming to Ribblesdale or using the line between Leeds and Appleby. http://www.settle-carlisle.co.uk
I hope too that there is a good service available by April 29 when the Tour o’ Yorkshire (I’m refusing to use the ‘de’ – what’s it got to do with the French?) comes to the area. There will be a public meeting at Victoria Hall, Settle, on Monday Feb 29 (6pm) to discuss local plans.

Lovely to see snowdrops appearing around the village once again. Their brief show is said to herald the arrival of spring. I suspect as usual in these parts that their appearance is premature.

I snatched an hour or so out on the fells above Malham one bright breezy day this week. Hardly a soul to be seen as I wandered along the Pennine Way between Watlowes valley and the Tarn, normally quite a busy trail at the weekend. Note to self: do this walk in the morning so as not to get the dark shadow on the west slope of Watlowes. The Tarn took on a deep dark blue hue when viewed from a little knoll just off the path.

Mind clearing

When my head is full of all sorts of daft stuff I’ll often drive the car over to Halton Gill on the Stainforth road to try clear my mind. There are only half a dozen farms from one end to t’ other along the seven miles or so. The landscape and views are breathtaking. I get out of the car, mooch about, find a new spot from which to take a photo, or as on Friday sit and stare at two daft beggars cycling up that incredibly steep hill from Halton Gill.

The light changed rapidly as the clouds scuttled across lovely Littondale. For a few seconds the tiny hamlet was bathed in sunshine. Behind it, the domineering moors switched from moody browns to inviting orange, while the tops kept on their dreary, misty hats.
The smaller, less populated dales have always appealed to me – Kingsdale, Coverdale, Raydale, to name but three – and they’re all firmly on my to-do-again list in spring. The top picture in the blog was taken from Coverdale, looking back down the valley towards Wharfedale. Here’s one looking across Kingsdale.

Well, it’s St Valentine’s Day again and in true Yorkshire bloke fashion I say ‘thank goodness I don’t have anyone to waste mi brass on’. I expect all my cards and gifts will arrive via a fleet of home delivery vans tomorrow, it being Sunday today.

Take HS2 south to see north’s assets

Ever wonder how the good folk living by the Ribble reacted in the 1870s on being told that a railway was going to be built along their peaceful dale? Most ordinary residents probably thought they didn’t have a choice in the matter and just got on with their lives. Today we think and react differently – but in the end, as in the Victorian era, our protests will more often than not go ignored. Those with money and power will have their way, as it seems with the proposed High Speed 2 railway scheme.

Countryside destruction

‘HS2 has come to symbolise a country run against the interests of the many and in the interests of the few.’ That’s a great sentence, sadly not one of mine, written by Patrick Barkham. It sums up my feelings about yet another ill-conceived fantasy project from which London will be the biggest benefactor. Latest estimates predict it will cost £57 billion – yes, fifty-seven-billion pounds, let that sink in – to cut 32 minutes off the journey between Birmingham and London. Our Northern Powerhouse (falls about laughing at the shallow attempt being made to deliver that promise) will eventually link in with this project (price yet to be properly determined) and – whoopee! – uncouth Yorkshire oiks like me will be able to take out a mortgage for a ticket and get to the capital to improve my flagging social status, some 45 minutes quicker. To achieve this, thousands of square miles of beautiful English countryside will be destroyed, wildlife habitats torn up, homes demolished and many a village life wrecked. Meanwhile, we are being fed a load of bull about job creation and that this super highway will bring great benefits to the north – don’t believe a word of it. Shareholders and contractors will make sacksful of dosh, most jobs will be temporary with workers being paid minimum wage, and I have yet to read one single persuasive argument showing how the North will benefit as a region.
Don’t get me wrong – I like trains, I think they are a sensible form of transport – but why not spend £57bn+ improving what we already have, by providing more local services or opening up old lines so that ordinary folk – not just the rich or businesspeople – can use and afford them? Patrick wrote a splendid monthly column for me when I was editor of The Countryman. Read his article on HS2 here http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2015/nov/17/hs2-the-human-cost-of-britains-most-expensive-rail-project
Also visit stophs2.org

Last February near Fountains Fell

Museum asset stripping

I’ve visited the National Media Museum in Bradford dozens of times. I’ve taken children there, attended functions and exhibition openings. I’ve always been proud to have a ‘National’ museum on my doorstep. It even hosts the International Film Festival, promoting the city and Yorkshire further afield… well, it did, anyway. Museum officials have just announced they are abandoning the festival after 20 years and followed this by saying they were sending 400,000 unique photos from its impressive collection to be exhibited permanently in London.
So the asset stripping of the museum is well under way. To be discussed is the renaming and streamlining of the museum. One suggestion involves relegating it from the premier division of ‘National’ to (Division One) ‘North’. Eventually, I see the title becoming ’Yorkshire’, then ‘Bradford’, followed by ‘a rear room of an independent camera shop in Idle’. Pardon the pun but there’s been a total loss of focus here. If we can afford to host top-class exhibitions and museums in London why can’t it be done in the north? What’s next to disappear down south – the National Railway Museum?

Harking back

Bad weather, extra freelance work and problems with contact points on a camera lens have conspired to curtail my own photography this week. So there are a few older photos included in this week’s blog. Make the most of them because I got a call from Boris Johnson who says he wants the best 20 per cent of them exclusively for visitors to look at in a trendy coffee house in the capital. The top photo in the blog showing Penyghent was taken this time last year. The one above shows the hill from t’ other side just a couple of days later.

A song for the Ribble

On Tuesday a cleaner at BT pulled out a plug so the vac could be powered up (I could be wrong there) and the internet went kaput. So, despite the howling gale, I went for a walk. Sadly, the path through Castleberg Wood to the rock overlooking Settle was closed due to a fallen tree, a victim of the strong winds. I headed back to Langcliffe beside the Ribble via Giggleswick and Stackhouse. These perching pigeons caught my attention: a music score with Stainforth Scar, as a backdrop. The ground was decidedly sticky and further rain over the next three days won’t have improved the situation. The walls of the older cottages like mine are becoming saturated so let’s hope for a prolonged dry spell very soon.

I snapped this one quickly at the mill pond in Langcliffe and was surprised it turned out virtually black-and-white. I’ve not tampered with the photo at all. I do sometimes make adjustments to photos where I feel it is necessary – or just to amuse myself. Using Photoshop or other digital editors is no different from what used to happen in photographic darkrooms, yet for some reason viewers can get all hot and bothered by ‘touched-up’ photos. Some photographers are looking for an accurate representation of a subject; others want to add their own interpretation. Viewers can have an opinion on what’s been created but should remember that with ‘art’ there’s no right or wrong. That’s why we all have different artwork hung in our homes; why we decorate our walls differently or wear different styles and colours of clothes.

This time last year: Just one set of footprints to the honesty box at Dale End Farm below Penyghent – mine. Which, I know, doesn’t prove that I paid. The picture got me thinking whether it would be worth putting an honesty box in the Houses of Parliament… but then again…

Priorities

The train spotting fraternity were out in force up and down the Ribble yesterday hoping for a glimpse of the revamped Flying Scotsman and the internet and Facebook groups are plastered with photos of the iconic engine. So where are all my piccies of this great event, you ask? Sorry, but on a Saturday I have to indulge in my own anorakic passion – watching Huddersfield Town. I admit to the addiction, and I know that each time I watch them it takes years off my life. If you have a cure please let me know.

A bit of poetry by the great Bob Dylan came to mind after re-reading this week’s blog:

I like to do just like the rest, I like my sugar sweet,
But guarding fumes and making haste,
It ain’t my cup of meat.
Ev’rybody’s ‘neath the trees,
Feeding pigeons on a limb
But when Quinn the Eskimo gets here,
All the pigeons gonna run to him.
Come all without, come all within,
You’ll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.

Test your Yorkshire, rural ruins and weather woe

Heading out of Ribblesdale over Newby Head into Widdale you’ll find this old Yorkshire barn, now in a sorry state. I’ve noticed its gradual deterioration over many years travelling along this route and I guess there’s not much hope for it now.

Stuck at home during one of the many wet days this week I trolled through my photo archive to see if I could find an earlier picture of the barn but instead dug out several other shots of sad-looking farm buildings, all located in Ribblesdale. I hadn’t realised I’d taken so many – they do make interesting foregrounds, and subjects in themselves – nevertheless it’s a shame such fine structures have been allowed to fall into unusable condition. The reasons behind their decay are many and varied, and here in my little photo-blog is probably not the place for an in-depth report on the condition of buildings within the Yorkshire Dales National Park.

I believe that my little cottage in Ribblesdale was once part of an 18th-century barn. It was converted into three small houses for mill or lime workers some time during the early 1800s … a good example of reusing old buildings to suit conditions at the time. Today, planning rules would be restrictive – especially within the National Park – and 21st-century needs would probably prove too disruptive for reusing the more isolated buildings. And many of our rural villages no longer provide work, schooling, shops, pubs etc to make it viable for the redevelopment of the more accessible deteriorating buildings. In urban areas these old structures would just be considered a hazard or an eyesore, bulldozed and the land bought by developers who will erect some boring ‘boxes’ thus lining their pockets with a fat profit.

I read an interesting blog on the subject of rural house building here https://cpreviewpoint.wordpress.com/2016/01/28/the-housing-bill-bad-for-villages/
I had to twice read this section to make sure I’d understood it correctly … “One senior Tory told me that no one has a right to live in a village any more than someone brought up in Mayfair has a right to live there. Someone may have grown up in a village and work in it, but if they cannot afford to buy a house in it, they should move to the nearest affordable town.”
In other words, if you’ve got money you can live where you want; it doesn’t matter whether your ancestors have lived there for generations or your family and friends still live there; it doesn’t matter if you can’t afford to travel to work or that there isn’t any transport… etc etc. So basically, he’s saying if you’re poor, you’re not allowed to enjoy a life in the countryside and must go live in a town.

Weather or not

I was due to show some friends the delights of the Dales during the week but the atrocious weather put a stop to that, and after their caravan almost blew over in a gale they abandoned ship and headed home. Hope this doesn’t leave a lasting bad impression on them, but we should realise it is winter, and that this is the Pennines not the Med. For their benefit here’s a few things they missed which are worth returning to see: above, Ashley Jackson’s frame at Brimham Rocks www.framingthelandscape.co.uk/ ; below Pecca Falls, Ingleton, the view from Buttertubs and from Winskill

Yorkshire twang

We got into a discussion about dialect and agreed that when we are with close friends and family we often speak in a kind of lazy ‘shorthand’ which we all understand but probably wouldn’t use in general speech. So I set my friends this teaser to see if they could translate. I call it Yorkshire Teatime – a working class Yorkshire family discussion over the tea table. See how much you can read (it’ll blow the mind of any auto-correct software)…

Twin 1: Wotwehavinferusteamam?
Mam: Thalavwotyergeean.
Twin 2: Duwiattergerruzandsweshed?
Dad: Thalgitnowtifthadunt.
Twin 1: Eh?
Dad: Thawansterweshthieeroilsahtanall.
Mam: Weerztabin?
Twin 2: Avbinlaikinart.
Mam: Amtalkintothidadnotthee.
Twin 1: Passustbutta.
Twin 2: Thamungerritthissen.
Twin 1: Giuzit.
Dad: Astleclouttheebuathifthaduntgiower.
Dad: Avbintotclub.
Mam: AstasinarrJim?
Dad: Aye.
Mam: Oowurreewi? Wurreeweeizsen?
Dad: Eewersatonisoowen.
Mam: Azzibintomimams?
Dad: Eesezeeazburraberreeant
Twin1: Istherowtofinishoffwi?
Mam: Therzakitkatintin.
Twin2: Tintintin.
Mam: Whosettenit?
Twin1: Iamptadit.
Twin2: Twantmee.
Dad: Aditfermisuppalassneet.
Mam: Thazzagreedybeggar.
Twins 1&2: Awwdad!

Dales days, a Yorkshire outpost, pulling power and nostalgia

I make regular trips through the Dales to visit the bookshops of the vibrant little town of Sedbergh, that last bastion of Yorkshire bordering Westmorland. I dare say that many residents and visitors consider Sedbergh as ‘Cumbrian’ nowadays, and indeed the buildings and walls are more in keeping with those of villages and towns of the Lake District than the Dales. But it will be forever Yorkshire in my eyes. Standing at the head of Wensleydale/Garsdale staring across at the Howgills on a cold, clear winter’s day is breathtaking. Small screens can’t do justice to this glorious vivid panorama.

When the hilltops aren’t visible and the dales are shortened by mist I’m thankful that Ribblesdale has plenty of waterfalls to grab my attention. Scaleber Force I’ve visited many times but I don’t tire of it. Just above Settle, fed by Stockdale Beck, the small gorge takes on different personas depending on the season. On Tuesday I took the lazy photo from the Woodland Trust bench overlooking the main 40ft waterfall. I didn’t fancy the awkward little path down the steep sided valley for some better shots (I’d splashed out on some Quorn & Pesto fillets for tea and thought I’d prefer them to hospital food).

It was refreshing to see youngsters (and a few old uns) out enjoying the snow last weekend. I hate to sound like a predictable old fart but I really do believe that many of the younger generation miss out on so much by relying on other people – and technology – to provide their entertainment, amusement and adventure. I was skimming through a 1965 copy of The Countryman the other day and saw this fabulous photo of two young lads captivated by Nature. The picture is captioned ‘Small fry by Alan Pearce’. My 2016 caption is ‘No app required’. It reminded me of when I was of a similar age to those lads when we used to hunt for sticklebacks and frogs in the local beck and mill pond.

My own reliance on technology was put to the test the other day when the power in the village and beyond suddenly died. Living in an all-electric house I donned an extra sweater and cuddled up to the cat for warmth. The batteries in my ancient pocket transistor radio helped break the silence with some Radio 4 and a small torch illuminated the preparation of a cold snack. This dip into ‘pre-history’ lasted less than two hours. In case it happens again I’ve bought a stock of batteries, candles and a butane gas cylinder to power a small heater. Ahh, country living.

Before the outside temperature rose during the week, the local mill pond froze over. This collapsed tree became part of a large ice sculpture, as did the animal and bird tracks which criss-crossed the newly-formed white walkway. The ducks dared each other to take a dip in the unfrozen section. Local paths I’d walked up and down many times were attractive in their new white clothes.

Early in the week I drove to Chapel-le-Dale for a little wander around the foothills of Ingleborough. It was difficult to tell whether the snow was being shifted up the majestic hill by the wind or if it was just low cloud – whatever, it created an Alpine feel. Looking across towards Whernside I began to wonder when was the last time I’d seen the curve of the mountain top.

I hadn’t to wait much longer, however. On Wednesday, as I headed to Sedbergh, the whole of Whernside was vividly visible – seen here behind the Salt Lake Cottages which are looking particularly smart nowadays.

I hope you’ll excuse the cliched shot from Horton-in-Ribblesdale but I couldn’t resist on such a clear day. The 12th-century church of St Oswald’s begs to be photographed.

Dales pulling power

Flying Scotsman was due to travel up the Settle-Carlisle line yesterday after its £4.2m refurbishment. Sadly, it didn’t pass muster, leaving passengers and sightseers somewhat deflated. A couple of ‘Black Fives’ (don’t ask me what they are, I just noted what some enthusiasts were talking about) and the two engines made quite an impression as they rattled under the footbridge at Langcliffe. Steam engines certainly having pulling power – and I’m not just talking about the strength of these old beasts as they haul trains up the ‘Long Drag’. They also help pull hundreds of visitors into Ribblesdale to keep local businesses ticking over, and do much to promote the region. One of the Facebook groups I’m interested in – We Love the Yorkshire Dales – was flooded with photos of yesterday’s train, showing what a great interest there is not only from train enthusiasts but also from Dales lovers and residents. If Flying Scotsman does eventually arrives here during summer we may have to be on standby for a invasion.

And finally…

What do you understand by the term ‘temporary’? The dictionary definition is something like, ‘lasting for only a limited period of time; not permanent’. That’s a bit wishy-washy really, because how do you define ‘a limited period of time’…. a day, a week, a month or even a year? It couldn’t mean 20 years could it? Well, apparently, yes it can. This week I read two public notices issued by the National Park which is proposing to erect fencing on nearby Horsehead Moor and Yockenthwaite Moor. They want to enclose some common land to stop stock from destroying young trees and bushes as they try to reestablish the peatland. Obviously, I’ve got no problem with that, but the terminology surprised me … they describe it in the notice as ‘temporary fencing’ which will be ‘taken down within 10 and 20 years’! All my days I’ve been declaring various homes as being my ‘permanent’ residence yet I’ve never lived in one for much more than 10 years.

Dales days, fair farming, bus passes and Murdoch mystery

In a life among the upland farms here in the Yorkshire Dales it’s easy to drift into a sense that the farming industry is made up of isolated, family-run set-ups; the Wellie-clad farmer caked in muck moving cattle and sheep from one field to another with a black-and-white dog. In reality, the farming industry, especially the agricultural variety, is very different – and is big business involving genetics, hi-technology, huge machinery… and tidy profits for the landowners who bow to the demands of the leading supermarkets. Some shoppers might look for labels portraying twee, idyllic farms to satisfy their consciences, other people will just pick up the cheapest item, but I wonder how many of us think about the exploitation of farm workers or the affect the super-farms are having on traditional farming? To get you thinking further, I recommend you read this thoughtful blog by Shaun Spiers of the CPRE: https://cpreviewpoint.wordpress.com/2016/01/11/the-dark-side-of-the-food-industry/

Foreign parts welcome

I enjoy forays into foreign parts such as Cumberland and Westmorland… Mallerstang and Wild Boar Fell, for example, are so grand you’d think you were in Yorkshire. So I was pleased to hear this week that the proposed extension of the Yorkshire Dales National Park, which is to include some parts of those lovely regions, has come a step closer. Apparently there have been no objections to the proposal, so the authority can press on with their plans. Besides Mallerstang and Wild Boar Fell (pictured), the extended park will, from August 1, include Orton Fells, the northern Howgill Fells, Barbondale, Middleton, Casterton and Leck Fells, the River Lune and other fells west of the Lune.

I hope any early lambs are snuggled up in barns right now. Some proper snow hit the Ribblesdale from Wednesday onwards, with temperatures dropping well below freezing in the dales and on the fells.

On Wednesday I walked along the higher parts of Winskill Stones and watched the light changing rapidly as clouds blew across Ingleborough and Penyghent. Different cloud types traveled at various speeds, forming all sorts of visual layers. But it was too cold to hang around for long and I walked back down the minor road, passing this old limekiln of a type found all over the dales. I wondered how long it has been there – an OS map from 1847 notes its presence when the road between Langcliffe and Cowside was but a dirt track.

I wanted to be at the top of the dale early on Thursday but was worried about the state of the road after heavy overnight frost and further snow. I held back until nine-ish but even then the stretches around Ribblehead were still on the dodgy side. The Three Peaks bore the brunt of the snow; goodness knows what the temperature was like on the tops, but they looked magnificent and proud.

Later, the woodland on the trail between Clapham and Ingleborough cave sheltered me from the biting wind. Walking through a wood when it’s snowing and cold is relaxing; you feel protected, as though the trees are comforting arms around you.

Money grows on trees in the dales

This tree at Clapham possesses more money than I do. I’ve never understood why folk feel the urge to hammer coins into tree trunks and branches. According to theories dating back to the beginning of the 18th century, a person can rid themselves of an illness by jamming a coin into a wishing tree, the belief being that the tree would assume the illness. If a dales church person pulled out one of the wishing tree’s coins then they would become ill. The tree must be in a critical condition by now but, hey, at least it’s wealthy.

Clapham is a fascinating village. The partly-man-made waterfall lies next to St James church which was founded in Norman times. The church and much of the village were burned down during a Scottish foray into the western dales during the early 14th century. The tower was probably erected after the battle but the rest of the church dates from the 19th century and is well worth a visit.

As from yesterday (Jan 16) I became eligible to apply for a bus pass. I’ve never been totally sure why this happens – is it because people in their sixties are assumed to be incapable of driving a car any longer, a menace to other drivers? Anyway, along with my senior railcard – which isn’t free but at £30 a year has already saved me a great deal of money – I will use ‘public’ transport as much as I can. I’m not certain how much of, or for how long, this transport will remain public with many vital bus routes threatened by under-funding. Living in a rural region, I imagine my routes and times will be pretty restricted. I will be studying timetables from now on and perhaps I’ll have to start a dalesbusblog to keep you informed (please don’t yawn, it’s rude).

Perhaps some country folk have too much time on their hands… and maybe that includes photographers, too! A gate on the track between Settle and Malham – just who among you takes a can of paint and brush with you when going on a walk?

This week’s major moan from the ‘news’: I’m a lot younger than Rupert Murdoch – how come I can’t land a millionaire ex-model who is 25 years my junior? I have my own publishing empire, too – you’re reading it.

Hidden Ribblesdale, bridging north-south divide, dales immigration issues

Ribblesdale calls me… having been tied up with other matters, and also due to yet more poor weather, I’ve not been able to take the camera for a walk much this week. But on Tuesday I wrapped up well for a trip to the head of the dale. The Three Peaks were all hidden under their cloud-caps, but the sun did make a brief appearance to light up Chapel-le-Dale. Ribblehead viaduct looked majestic against the backcloth of an ever-changing, moody sky. It would have made the perfect setting for a TV drama … (I didn’t see it – some folk tell me I didn’t miss much).

Hidden Whernside

Doing the Boot-Boots Hop

While I was parked at Ribblehead, scoffing the chocolates I’d stuffed in my pocket from a seemingly endless bag received at Christmas, I laughed to myself as I watched a couple who had parked next to me doing the Boot-Boots Hop. That’s the name I give to that silly little dance attempted by walkers who open the boot of their car and try to don their walking boots. We’ve all done it: hopping, balancing, gripping on to our walking partner or to some section of car so as not to get wet feet or pick up grit under your socks (which becomes a constant nightmare as you walk – do you, like me, shake your foot about like someone with a nervous tick to try shift that tiny annoying piece of grit until finally, half an hour later, give in and take off your boot to eject the blithering thing?). Worse still, the Boot-Boots Hopper slips down the slope because when they backed into the parking spot they ended up too close to a ditch. I hope the couple didn’t see me smirking.

Bridge over the Thames

You might, like me, not be too interested in what Boris and his cronies are up to in London. Well, while we in the north are struggling to get round the place because of damaged and collapsing bridges due to flooding, in the capital they’re well on with planning the ‘London Garden Bridge’. This will be a pleasant not-so-little bridge spanning the Thames, dressed up like something from Chelsea Flower Show. The website https://www.gardenbridge.london states it will cost £175m to deliver the project. Around 65% of the capital costs to build the bridge will be fundraised from the private sector. More than £145 million has been pledged already and there is a business plan to cover the £2 million annual maintenance and operations costs. Transport for London and the Government have together contributed £60 million in total. It’s unbelievable that more than £200m can be whipped up for such a vanity project.

This is a Yorkshire bridge over the Thames in Giggleswick – before anyone writes in and says this is the Tems, not the Thames, I direct you to early Ordnance Survey maps which clearly states the latter spelling. Perhaps someone in London later thought Giggleswick was getting a bit too big for its boots and ordered a spelling change.

I bought a small pamphlet/book about Giggleswick from those doyens of Ribblesdale history, Phil and Rita Hudson of Settle – a very interesting guide to the ancient township. It contains a walk around the village and details of some fascinating architectural features. On Wednesday I did the walk and added an extra mile or so. On this view of Settle’s situation in Ribblesdale you can see the rooftops of the houses sitting snugly beneath the massive limestone scars, with Castleberg Rock in the middle right. The school chapel, which took four years to build and was opened in 1901, dominates Giggleswick’s skyline from many a different angle.

On Friday, snow hit Ribblesdale from Selside northwards and on higher ground. Penyghent was shrouded in cloud for most of the day but I just grabbed this shot from Winskill Stones in the late afternoon as it briefly emerged:

Ribblesdale immigration issues

A few years ago, for an article I was writing about family history, I had my DNA tested. Turns out I’m descended from an immigrant, probably from somewhere in Scandinavia. I have a ‘mutation’ (I know, you already thought that) in my genes which developed thousands of years ago and is found mainly in people from Denmark and in Sweden at frequencies above 30% of the population in those countries. In England this mutation is found in 15% of the population and is most prevalent in northerners. It is possible that my lot hired a longboat about 1600 years ago, and on seeing Yorkshire thought ‘that’ll do’ and decided to set up home here. I drift down this line of thought after being challenged by a Wensleydale chap last week who on hearing me speak said, “Tha’s net fro’ rahnd ’ere, es ta?”
I told him I was born in the Heavy Woollen district of Yorkshire but had lived most of my life around the Craven and Ribblesdale areas. “Thowt so,” he said dismissively. I felt a bit miffed – is Yorkshire such a big place, I thought, that I’m considered a foreigner in my own back yard? I now wonder whether had I told him my male line in Yorkshire goes back to at least 400AD, and perhaps earlier, that he would have been more accepting? Anyway, I bet he was descended from some marauding Scot.

Footnote: when I scribbled a couple of weeks ago about the poor quality of country and wildlife TV programmes, I most certainly wasn’t including anything by David Attenborough. Watching in wonder and listening to the 89-year-old talk with such authority in his Great Barrier Reef series this week reminded me of how spoilt people of my age are to have grown up with such a wonderful ‘teacher’ and presenter.

Flood lessons, forgotten lanes, fireworks and Ribblesdale photos

The former newsman in me said I ought to go find some dramatic flood shots last week, but then I thought that would only be adding to the misery of the situation. Flooded fields, gushing rivers and waterfalls are often witnessed here in Ribblesdale but further down the valleys, as all that water looks for a way back to the sea, many homes, businesses and lives can be ruined as a consequence.

In Nature, every action causes a reaction. When us humans mess with Nature, be it through greed or naivety, we generally cause mayhem somewhere down the line. Hopefully, a lesson is being learned about what causes flooding besides awful weather: the value of flood plains and why they shouldn’t be built upon; the erroneous river-banking to increase landownership; the cutting down of trees which absorb water; the bad management of moorland; the slashing of funds needed for proper river dredging, etc. Our obsession with cars doesn’t help – we build roads without adequate consideration for natural water flow, create enormous car parks; remove gardens so cars can be parked… the list goes on.

In 2012 I wrote a Diary piece in Dalesman following some more dreadful flooding in Hebden Bridge – here’s an extract:
“ … many residents are partly blaming the management of the nearby Walshaw Moor where it is claimed that excessive burning of the blanket bog has been taking place. The estate owners, [headed by Boundary Mills businessman Richard Bannister] have also created new tracks through the 6,000ha estate which has increased the flow of water down the hillside. Sphagnum moss, Nature’s ‘sponge’ which slows the water coming off the moor, is rapidly disappearing as the estate owners try to create a habitat for red grouse which are then shot.
“The management of this estate has caused Natural England to raise serious concerns in recent years. However, in March, without a clear explanation, Natural England reached an agreement with the landowners over the estate management and dropped legal proceedings, including a prosecution on 43 grounds of alleged damage.
“Residents have set up a Ban the Burn campaign and are asking for support. They say: “We are aware that this is not just a local issue and it is not just about flooding. Sphagnum mosses are the main peat forming species providing vital carbon sequestration and carbon storage, but damaged UK peatlands currently release almost 3.7 million tonnes of CO2, equivalent per year of more than all the households in Edinburgh, Cardiff and Leeds combined.”

Three years on the battle to see sense continues, and the unfortunate residents of Calderdale are still suffering. This isn’t just me having a go at rich folk again. We could all do more… by protesting against stupidity and greed and offering practical help: simple things like helping rid your local beck of rubbish, keeping drains clear of leaves and other debris, making sure your garden has grass, trees and plants and not just covered with impervious Tarmac or decking. Rant over.

The promise of blue sky tempted me out on Tuesday. Mist hung around the tops of the Three Peaks (Penyghent below) as I drove through Ribblesdale to Dentdale. The simple old road bridge over the beck is dwarfed by the viaduct on the Settle-Carlisle line at Cowgill. I turned up the steep, Third-World-road between Dent and Garsdale railway stations where the views in all directions are wonderful. I couldn’t imagine making a living on these wild, boggy moors – it seems some have tried and failed. Returning home via Appersett, which had been cut off by flooding the previous day, a patch of blue sky briefly lit up Stags Fell as though nothing untoward had happened over recent times.

A couple of centuries ago, the main road from Settle to the west went through Giggleswick, Lawkland and on towards Austwick and Clapham. These places are now all bypassed by bigger, faster roads. The old lanes and off-shoots provide a pleasant drive or walk in lovely countryside completely missed by the majority of motorists to this part of the Dales. Those who travelled the ancient route by horse and cart centuries ago would have probably stood mouth agape at the sight of the mainly Elizabethan Lawkland Hall (a private residence with a fascinating history). Visit www.hha.org.uk/Property/568/Lawkland-Hall

My route was only just clear of water problems as I carried on through Austwick (pictured), and on to the hamlet of Wharfe (first photo in blog). The road back to Ribblesdale via Helwith Bridge was impassable the previous day because of flooding.

The following day I ascended – on foot – the steep slope from my house to Winskill Stones. It’s only a mile, but after eating and drinking excessively since my last trip up that hill I needed several ‘photo halts’. The light in the north-west was weird, probably something to do with incoming storm, while above and behind me was a bright blue sky.

A classic Winskill shot beckoned as that gallant tree, seemingly sprouting impossibly from the limestone, and Lower Farm standing out like a beacon set the scene.

Descending back down the side of Stainforth Scar looking towards Settle I saw that the mysterious vanishing tarn was back again. Geological features, ancient field patterns, the rolling Ribble and distant Langcliffe Mill show the development of this area.

Impressive as they were, I felt a tad miffed watching London’s extravagant fireworks on New Year’s Eve. Knocking on £2m spent on 11 minutes, during which time half of London’s population stood with camera phones pointing towards the sky, taking blurry pictures that will end up looking like the remnants of a three-year-old’s birthday party spread. £2m can be raised for the capital’s hedonistic event but ask for brass for London’s homeless or the North’s flood victims and people look the other way. Call me a party-pooper if you want, but I’m sure we used to enjoy NYE just as much before all this excess.

Ribblesdale photos

For my final photo round-up of the year I’ve chosen from pictures taken between September and November inclusive. I’ve not included December as most can be viewed in recent posts. Have a happy new year and thanks for dropping by.

Bronte shame, sailor’s trousers, embarrassing falls and yet more flooding

The weather gods granted me a day out on Wednesday – as my mum used to say, there was ‘enough blue sky to knit a pair of sailor’s trousers’ — so I enjoyed a drive and short walk along and beside the Stainforth to Halton road in the morning, then a trip to Malham from Langcliffe in the afternoon. Penyghent looked resplendent – seen above from Dale Head – while at the Giant’s Grave there was still plenty of water around to create a splash or two. Here the water can take several different directions, filling huge potholes before eventually finding a way down Penyghent Gill and into Littondale.

In the upright photo showing the moors above Halton Gill in the distance, is evidence of a recent rockfall probably caused by the storms. The tree hangs on precariously.

Farms along Henside Road from Cowside to Arncliffe via Malham Tarn are often cut off during winter. I recall Bill Mitchell writing a piece for Dalesman about a family stranded at Capon Hall Farm for several weeks during the bad weather of (I think) 1962. Here’s one of the farms, with Malham Tarn visible in the background. There was a light sprinkling of snow/slush around the higher moors on Christmas Eve but nothing to bother these hardy farmers too much … yet.

I like seeing the fields above Malham, and the limestone of the cove, in the early evening sun when most of the tourists are making their way home. The animals graze peacefully and the whole scene takes on a more pastoral feel.

Embarrassing Falls

The heavy rain has reintroduced many waterfalls which are usually only observed when the underground channels are full. The historic view of water tumbling over Malham Cove last week is a prime example, but there have been many other reappearances too throughout the Yorkshire Dales. This one on the Horton side of Selside doesn’t often teem over the top. It’s a fine little fall which according to the Ordnance Survey doesn’t have a name. Ended-on-my-arse-here Falls would be appropriate, for me at least. Muddied and briefly embarrassed, hoping that no one witnessed my mishap, I walked towards High Birkwith and back along the Pennine Bridleway.

On returning home this little chap was waiting for me. He posed for one picture on a neighbour’s bench, then flew off. I haven’t seen him since – perhaps his mission is to say hello to everyone in the dale over the Christmas period.

Even more rain towards the end of the week meant extended time on the computer or watching some mind-numbingly tedious Christmas TV programmes, usually involving ‘celebrities’ – most of whom I’ve never heard of. Can we look forward to a series titled ‘Celebrities on Benefits’. Only a joke, before people write in. It’s no laughing matter being unemployed and anyway, whingeing about TV seems churlish considering what happened yesterday. The floods in the north have caused devastation and severely disrupted the lives of many thousands of people. I had to curtail my journey down the Aire Valley yesterday – I had never seen it so badly flooded – and I was lucky to get back up to Ribblesdale before the roads were closed or impassable. My heartfelt sympathy to everyone affected. Sorry, Mr Cameron, you’re going to have make yet another journey oop t’north for a photo-shoot to show the nation what a caring PM you are.

Bronte shame

A few miles from Ribblesdale is the once-deserted hamlet of Wycoller which contains a partly ruined hall, thought to be the setting for Ferndean Manor – the home of Rochester in the Charlotte Bronte novel, Jane Eyre. The place underwent a bit of a revival a while back but is now under threat again, along with the Wycoller Country Park (pictured above at the Panopticon) and the Bronte Way footpath. All are under the care of Lancashire County Council, but it is now planning to completely close down the management, maintenance and ranger service. If this happens visitors may no longer be able to see the great aisled barn or use the countryside activity centre. The visitor toilets will close and the privately run cafe and shop are unlikely to survive. Wycoller hamlet is one of the area’s prettiest destinations, attracting thousands of Bronte fans, and is served by dozens of volunteers. It is managed by a countryside ranger with a modest budget, so any cost savings from closing it down will be negligible. I first became interested in the area’s literary connections and fascinating countryside some forty or so years ago, and believe it would be a shame if this key part of the Bronte heritage was lost forever. If you agree sign this petition or contact the council https://t.co/dbEffg09af

Ribblesdale images

The second instalment of my ‘Year in Ribblesdale’ picture gallery shows snaps taken between May and August inclusive. The choice was difficult as there were some lovely days during spring and summer. September to December photos follow next week.