Author: admin
No time for bravado
I was greeted by snow, hail, sleet, ice and freezing temperatures as I headed for the top end of Ribblesdale this morning. Your not-so-intrepid blogger made a u-turn at Selside when I realised that my own tyre tracks were the only ones to be seen in either direction. And it’s a little disconcerting when you put your foot on the brake pedal and nothing happens; the car continues on regardless as if it has a mind of its own. You press a little harder on the brake and suddenly you start sliding sideways towards a sturdily-built drystone wall. The bad weather followed me back down the dale but at the front edge of the storm I just managed to capture this shot of St Oswald’s at Horton and one of Penyghent before it became engulfed in cloud. At my age bravado gives way to comfort every time.
Thanks for dropping in
Snowdrops are making their annual appearance in the local churchyard.
They’re a welcome sight after a few bland weeks here in Ribblesdale.
But I fear their coy and courteous bow is premature.
The spring they hope to herald in remains a distant dream.
Limestone cowboy
I just managed to catch this panorama before the clouds closed in from the west this lunchtime. This limestone area of Attermire Scar and Rye Loaf Hill, above Settle in Ribblesdale, always reminds me of the American Wild West. But let’s not carried away, the highest point here is around 1,800ft.
Vital wildlife corridors worth preserving
There’s a lovely old hedge close to home – interestingly unkempt and a mixture of all kinds of trees, bushes and shrubs. Unusually for this time of year, this morning there were small birds flitting between the branches and singing as though it was already spring. There aren’t a lot of hedges here in Ribblesdale, where those iconic drystone walls tend to dominate the scene. The Dales just wouldn’t be the Dales without those ancient walls; man-made but giving off a natural feel and perfectly embracing their surroundings. Last year I took a number of photos featuring the walls of Ribblesdale; including the one above in autumn just out of Langcliffe village and the one below on a beautiful summer’s day along Watery Lane in Settle. Just as with the hedges, walls provide homes, shelter and vital corridors for all kinds of wildlife – long may they remain part of our countryside.
Dales light fantastic
Regular visitors to the blog will have realised by now that I’m fond of (won’t admit to being obsessed with) weather watching in the Dales. Especially at this time of year, the light show can change by the minute. The above picture taken this morning captures the sun bursting out over the Settle area of Ribblesdale in the distance. Mid ground, above Stainforth, are threatening clouds; some mist clings to wooded ravines and very cold rain is falling. Meanwhile, I’m standing near Dale Head Farm on the Silverdale road in a tiny shaft of weak sunlight. To my left and right, out of shot, much of Fountains Fell and Penyghent is hidden under low cloud. Love it.
A twist in the tale of a dale
I was in Three Peaks territory this morning but the peaks were nowhere to be seen. This freight train was crossing the viaduct just as I reached Ribblehead and as you can see, the cloud completely obscured the view of Whernside… as well as Ingleborough and Penyghent. I’d hoped to take a Ranulph Fiennes-type walk up to Twisleton Scar and take a photo across Chapel-le-Dale, looking towards Ingleborough but it would have been a waste of time.
Recently I noticed in a magazine – not Dalesman I hasten to add – that Twisleton has been spelled with an additional t after the s. I once let the same incorrect spelling go through to print while I was editor of Dalesman. Consequently I was buried under a deluge of letters from readers eager to point out the error of my ways. The name means ‘farm at the fork of a river’ from Old English words ‘twisla’ and ‘tun’ – in this case where Kingsdale Beck meets the River Greta. And why did I mention the slightly mad Ranulph Fiennes earlier? Because his full Sunday name is Sir Ranulph Twisleton-Wykeham-Fiennes. One of his ancient ancestral lines must have stemmed from the area. Some thought goes into these blogs you know.
When the wind blows in Ribblesdale
I witnessed waves of clouds and sunshine changing the scene before my eyes in Ribblesdale this afternoon. How powerful the wind must be to be able to cause such rapid upheaval. Inside the car I was told digitally that the temperature outside was 4.5 deg, but my body declared otherwise as soon as I stepped into the fresh Yorkshire Dales air. With a small (borrowed) digital camera I managed to capture a cloud-topped Penyghent. Further up the dale the high fells were covered in snow and the clouds were threatening to deposit more. I fear that the worst of winter is still to come.
A simple life in the Dales
In my local churchyard of St Mary’s here in Long Preston, Ribblesdale, there aren’t many ‘grand’ tombstones – a reflection perhaps of the make-up of this once rural community. Nevertheless, the memorials in this small graveyard fascinate me, and over the years I’ve collected – photographically I should add – a great variety of them. This simple wooden cross is probably my favourite. In a shady spot it catches late afternoon sunshine. It’s obviously still maintained as even the best paint from the 1930s couldn’t have survived so many winters. On the Ancestry website I discovered that Richard, who was born in the village, was a sheep and cattle grazier and that he and his wife Jane had seven children. Every gravestone here has a story to tell; social history waiting to be unravelled.
Pennine wind farms – at what cost to us?
I’ve yet to be convinced that wind farms are of much use to the majority of us; rather that they mainly benefit those involved in the manufacture of turbines and landowners looking to make a quick and easy profit. Enormous turbines are springing up all around the Yorkshire Dales National Park with little regard to those like me who treasure the views and care for wildlife and the rural way of life. Although I now live in the Dales my childhood was spent in the West Riding and I still travel regularly to Huddersfield to pay homage to Yorkshire’s greatest football team. One of my favourite places in the town, after the John Smith’s Stadium, is Castle Hill and the Jubilee Tower. The 360 degree view from the top of the tower, even with its industrial aspects, is one to behold. For hundreds of years Castle Hill has provided for ordinary folk an escape from the mills and the daily grind. To me and most residents, the surrounding moorland is just as precious and personal as that of the Yorkshire Dales and North York Moors. The Pennines hills around Huddersfield offer beauty, solitude and drama which can’t be assessed in terms of pound coins. The number of wind farms appearing or planned for the region disturbs me greatly and I hope the local authority sees the deeper value in our countryside when considering wind farm applications.
Pics: above a view from Jubilee Tower; below, one of a crop of 93m turbines towering above grazing cows near Harrogate.
