Dales Archives - Page 5 of 10 - Scribble by the Ribble

Back in the Dales with a smile on my face

After only two days in London what a relief it is to be back in the Dales. Here in Ribblesdale the air is fresh, the views are mainly natural, and the people smile and say hello. I know all that sounds clichéd, but it really is true. However, it was an absolute delight to see first-hand at Wembley my beloved Huddersfield Town reach the Premier League, nerve-racking as the occasion was. Now my club will dine at the top table and enjoy what rich pickings they can – for at least a season. My allegiance to the Terriers came about because my dad – and his dad – supported them during the club’s heyday. My brother and I had no option but to follow suit, even though we both moved away from our Heavy Woollen birthplace when were were young.

Back on the moors

To watch Town’s home games I have a round trip of just under 100 miles, and often I’ll use the journey to visit one of my favourite parts of Yorkshire – the Pennine Moors above Holmfirth, Saddleworth Moor and parts of the Dark Peak. Here is some of the bleakest moorland in the country. I love the drama but I could never live in such isolation. Last week I walked a short section of the Pennine Way at Wessenden and shuddered at the thought of being stranded in one of the lonely farms or water board houses by the reservoirs during a dark night.

On another day I was again on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales, this time by the River Lune boundary at Kirkby Lonsdale. The contrast from Wessenden couldn’t have been greater. Lush farmed landscape, beautiful cottages, winding river … and lots of tourists. I took the usual shots of Ruskin’s View and river but also some of the buildings, especially around the church, also took my fancy …

Back in the dales

Looking for a flattish walk, I strolled down Chapel-le-Dale along the old Roman Road from St Leonard’s Church (pictured below) towards Ingleton. Along here you find angles of Ingleborough unseen from the main road (also shown in top pic in blog).

Back in Ribblesdale

And finally…

Dales for the soul, Crackpot ideas and the Malham Monster

A sea of buttercups forming lazy waves caught my attention. Young trees were showing off new clothes, and birds flitted busily and noisily along the hedges and walls. Standing there in this mini paradise I wondered whether the young man who callously murdered and maimed in Manchester had ever witnessed the delights laid out in front of me. Would he have nurtured the same hatred inside him if he’d been given the chance to see and feel first hand the beauty of Nature here in this countryside? Had he grown up with a vision of this different world in his head would he have taken on such evil advice? None of us knows the answer. What I do know is we continue to fill young people’s heads with violence and depravity via TV and internet; we play out futile and barbaric scenarios and conflicts on gadgets. Many of the younger generation are now learning about ‘life’ through manufactured media – and a distorted, corrupt and perverted media at that – or on soulless city streets. Government continues to drive children away from the countryside by closing village schools and local amenities; cutting funds for outdoor activities. Youngsters are corralled into urban ghettoes. I’m not claiming that places like the Dales hold all the answers to our problems, of course not. The peaceful world I’m so fond of won’t stop human bigotry or greed, or the acts of lunatics, but it can help to teach fresh perspectives and open the mind. I held my own silent moment for those unfortunate, innocent victims who have now been deprived of the kind of days in the Dales I’ve enjoyed this week.

Knowing I was heading off for a couple of days in London – yes, you heard correctly; me, deserting Yorkshire for more than a few hours (but don’t worry, I’ll be there with 40k other Tykes supporting Huddersfield Town at Wembley) – I’ve been gorging myself on the Dales all this week. So much so in fact I’ve too much to show in this blog so I’ll save some for next week.

I had a crackpot idea on Thursday, the hottest day in the Dales since records began (fake news that). I decided to walk beside the Swale – still very low at the time but no doubt swollen since Saturday’s storms – then up the hill to Crackpot. I probably walked less than 4 miles but was still exhausted because of the heat. The views up and down this part of Swaledale were superb and I took far more photos than would be considered normal.

The Malham Monster

Mystery dales bird

Nakedness, monks and dry Dales days

13 photos. The cackle of a stream over water-worn pebbles; hidden birds striking out perfect notes. The sight and smell of wild garlic; bluebells gently swaying in dappled sunlight. A Dales wood is a delight on such a day. The few people I meet are cheerful; happy to be out and about in this peaceful haven, forgetting the world’s troubles and its greedy fools.

At the start of the week I was contemplating changing the name of my blog to Scribble by the Pebbles, such was the lack of water in the Ribble and elsewhere in the Dales. Many stretches of the riverbed near my home could easily be walked across which is very unusual as this is an area where water has traditionally been collected for meadows and powering mills.

One day I popped over to Wensleydale to see how low Semerwater was looking. The two large boulders by the car park (top pic) were totally exposed. I took photos of the naked rocks for posterity. In fact, I got a bit carried away with camera clicking this week and had a job whittling down the choice for the blog so I’ll let the pics do most of the talking.

16 new Dales photos to view

Every now and then I do something daring – like stepping outside of the Dales and dipping a toe into Lancashire. Hidden deep in the family’s ancestry I found someone called Dilworth, and I wondered where the surname came from. The earliest bearers of the surname sprang from a tiny place called Dilworth just over the Lancashire border near Longridge. The branch I am interested in was recorded during the 1700s at Slaidburn’s St Andrew’s church (pictured below), which is on the correct side of the border (this part of Yorkshire was lent to Lancashire in 1974 for administrative purposes). It’s a grand old church in a lovely spot – a fine resting place for some of the family’s forebears to keep an eye on the Lancastrians. I’ve been tracing our family history on and off for decades now and recently I had one of those Ancestry.com DNA tests done. My basic DNA breakdown shows I’m 62 per cent British, 28 per cent western European and 10 per cent other ethnicity. My British community group is Northern English. Nothing very surprising there then.

That wasn’t the only time I skipped over the border this week. I needed the passport again while doing a little errand for someone near Brough, in Westmorland. I couldn’t resist a visit to the castle (it’s free, so why not?) for a couple of photos…

I returned through the Dales via Tan Hill pub which looked forlorn on the bleak expansive moorland. There were three large military vehicles parked at the pub which made me wonder if they were expecting some further border raids. tanhillinn.com

The clouds were dark above Tan Hill unlike in Ribblesdale. Although clear blue skies brighten up the Dales they don’t always help create interesting photos. I took pictures of the Three Peaks one day and was surprised at the different hue on each one. The wind was biting but without clouds I think the photos lack movement and thus interest. Here are Penyghent, Ingleborough and Whernside on the day.

I also took plenty of shots in and around Langcliffe this week, including the top photo in the blog… and dozens more, a few here…

Bluebells have appeared in Cleatop Park Wood on the outskirts of Settle… and the trees are budding… but the rivers around the Dales are low and some fields looked parched.

Why my art lies in the Yorkshire Dales

Yorkshire Dales: 13 new photos here. I can find art that appeals to me almost anywhere I go in the Dales. The top picture is my kind of art – not the calibre of photography, which leaves rather a lot to be desired, but the view; Humans and Nature acting as one to create a beautiful experience. Okay, not to everyone’s taste, I know. But when you take the time to stop and frame a small part of the Dales landscape you can sometimes find a masterpiece. The scene is in Little Stainforth, a couple of miles up the road from my Ribblesdale home.

Art turned out to be a bit of a theme this week. Last Sunday after the deluge I travelled out of Settle to Scaleber Force (pictured above) which was looking and sounding dramatic. Besides taking a few predictable shots of rushing water I closed in for a couple of more artistic shots. I’m getting daring in my old age.

The sky cleared over the Dales the following day, tempting me out for a drive over to Littondale. Penyghent looked a picture and Belted Galloway cattle, looking like escaped pandas, provided an interesting foreground.

Daffodils soaked up the sun in Langcliffe churchyard and on the village green.

In 2010 I represented Dalesman at the opening of the Coldstones Cut sculpture (partly pictured above) near Pateley Bridge. Here, urban meets countryside, tourists meet workers. It’s an unusual space which challenges the senses. I went back there this week for a reminder of this unique piece of Dales art. To the east Nidderdale’s glorious landscape stretched out; burning heather sent smoke across the otherwise clear blue sky. Turning north, Great Whernside carried snow on its shoulders while to the west quarry workers were digging deeper and deeper into the Dales. Looking south the great golf balls of Blubberhouses early warning site were keeping an eye on Mr Trump’s imaginary enemies.

During my career I was fortunate to edit Countryman magazine which champions the country’s glorious countryside and rural way of life. I left the magazine in the capable hands of fellow Yorkshireman Mark Whitley, who has this month produced a special issue celebrating Countryman’s 90th anniversary. Free with the magazine is a reproduction of the first issue published back in 1927 – well worth a read. http://www.countrymanmagazine.co.uk

Why Horton stirs dales memories

12 new Dales photos here. I found myself mooching around Horton-in-Ribblesdale on the week’s only fine day. Passing Penyghent Cafe I remembered the days 40-odd years ago when I used to clock out and in there for the Three Peaks challenge. My knees would probably crumble to dust if I took on the 24-mile Dales hike today so this time I opted for a few gentle miles by the river. Apart from the odd rumble from the quarries, the walk was peaceful. Heavily pregnant ewes were scattered around the meadows while much more active birds sped up, down and across the Ribble.

There’s a pleasant spot in a small wood where the river widens. It’s shallow here and the water cackles across well-worn stones; a perfect place for contemplation. The morning mist slowly vanished and Penyghent came into view along with patches of blue sky.

In the village I remembered bits of a piece written by Victorian Dales wanderer Edmund Bogg. Back home I dug out the extract from his oddly title book, Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland and Ribblesdale:
“It was a dark, boisterous October night that found us tramping towards the village of Horton; the wind howled, and the clouds swished rapidly past overhead; rain descended in torrents; the wild mountain country became enshrouded in mystery and silence; a light here and there gleamed from a grey stone dwelling; further up the village one solitary lamp, over the entrance of the Golden Lion, tried in vain to pierce the gloom. A ray of light, however, fell on the venerable lych gate, just across the roadway, and dimly, like a shadow thrown from bygone ages, the grand old tower of Horton Church loomed out of the darkness, typical of a religious light burning through the dark ages of a far past. There was a motley gathering at the Golden Lion on that night, quarrymen from the limestone quarries, and the dalesmen of the district, thirsty souls, we should imagine, by the amount of beer we saw consumed. Three farmers, who had been to Clapham Fair on that day, were benighted here on our visit; their homes lay some eight or ten miles over the moors, and it would have been sheer foolhardiness to have attempted the journey in the dense darkness of that night. One, an elderly man, who had spent upwards of half-a-century in crossing and re-crossing the moors, attempted the journey; he missed his way, and his horse floundered in a bog, and he was glad to grope his way back to the inn. We joined them in company later on, and jolly fellows we found them, yet withal shrewd, stark, and strikingly original.”

My recollections of the Horton pubs in the 1970s also involve the drinking of copious amounts of beer but the clientele were students rather than hardy Dales farmers.

dales horton — On a blustery wet day this week I drove up to Chapel-le-Dale and captured swiftly moving clouds hiding Ingleborough and Whernside

My encounter with the Dales reds

Ten photos from the Dales and beyond this week. On Wednesday I recalled heading from Hawes to Snaizeholme while on duty for Dalesman. The red squirrel trail had just opened. It’s a fair old trek from Hawes railway station up to the viewing area and on that first visit in miserable weather I did wonder if a very fleeting glimpse of a distant red was worth the effort. I’ve been several times since – usually from a closer starting point – and been utterly enthralled. This week’s visit was the best so far. Not only were there many more reds scuttling about, but they were also more visitor friendly. I moved slightly away from the popular viewing area and stood quietly beside a fence, my right hand resting on a gate. I noticed some movement to my right and there was a young red sat on the fence just a few feet from me. I didn’t go for my camera but stayed very still. It continued towards me along the fence, ran over my hand and under my nose along the gate before jumping into the undergrowth. Two more chased each other at such a speed that neither me nor the camera could keep up – I have a lot of very blurred images to remind me of the experience. Top photo shows part of Snaizeholme Wood.

dales geese — The noisy honking of Canada Geese echoes around Snaizeholme

dales jeep — Gradually merging into its surroundings in the Dales at Snaizeholme.

A day earlier I left the dales to meet some old friends over Huddersfield way. I enjoy the rugged Pennine moors and moody sky here – and my visits are made even more memorable when I see the town’s football team defy the odds to see off some of the league’s big spenders.

dales huddersfield — Not the dales… above and below, two views from Castle Hill as the light was fading

dales viaduct — A clear view of Dent Head Viaduct on Wednesday in the Dales

dales railway — Goods train passes down Ribblesdale beneath Penyghent, Wednesday

dales winskill — Subdued evening scene from Winskill this week.

In the middle distance is the farm famously sandwiched between the two sides of the M62 motorway as seen from Ripponden Road.

How we build walls in the Dales, Mr Trump

It’s hard to picture the Yorkshire Dales without walls. Yes, there are a some wilder spots such as the grouse moors with fewer walls, where there’s no need to prevent stock from wandering where they’re not wanted. I was pondering over this while driving round the Three Peaks area during the week. Penyghent (pictured above), Ingleborough and Whernside all have prominent walls going over the top of them. I think in all three cases these walls are as much to do with indicating parish boundaries as keeping sheep in the right place. Whatever, you’ve got to admire the skill and tenacity of those wall builders of the Dales whose work has lasted many a wild winter. Just a thought … should we invite Mr Trumped-up for a state visit to the Dales to teach him about wall building?

The breeze was strong and the clouds shifted quickly overhead. While Ingleborough and Whernside wore thin white caps, Penyghent was briefly bathed in sunshine. At one time it thought the three were playing a party game, switching hats to the music of the wind. From Kingsdale I watched the scene changing rapidly before I chickened out of a trip along the high narrow road over to Dent as the weather worsened. The Dales can be beautiful and frightening at the same time.

When I get older losing my hair… etc

Yes I’m that age today so just a brief blog as I prepare for hordes of visitors heading to my Dales cottage bearing gifts and alcohol. I can’t believe I’d still be singing the Beatles’ When I’m 64, when I’m actually 64. The song was released when I was 14. Where have the last 50 years gone?

Dales waterfalls provide memorable moments

Photography took a back seat last week. But I did get chance to scan through the photos I’d taken over the previous 12 months. I’d not realised how many waterfalls I’d snapped while tottering gently around the Dales … or how poor I was at capturing their magic. I don’t usually take a tripod with me so I often struggle to hold the camera steadily enough get pin-sharp images, and my time-lapse stuff is sometimes shaky or over-exposed. I’ll make a late resolution to improve this year. Anyhow, I’m not after any photographic awards – I just want to capture the moment and a memory of all the special places around the Dales. The top photo shows Catrigg Falls, above Stainforth in Ribblesdale.

It’s a special time on the Settle-Carlisle line this week as steam-hauled trains take on part of the scheduled passenger timetable for the first time in 50 years. Tornado will be pulling packed carriages between Appleby and Skipton via Settle from 14-16th February – for more details visit http://www.settle-carlisle.co.uk/tag/tornado/

Inspirational Yorkshire women

My interview with Amanda Owen, the Yorkshire Shepherdess, appears in February’s Countryman magazine which is now on sale. Amanda is a remarkable young lady who with husband Clive and nine (at the last count) children live and farm at out-of-the-way Ravenseat in Birkdale. As I re-read the article I am reminded of a piece I wrote in Dalesman about another fine Yorkshire woman, Hannah Hauxwell. On the face of it they appear to be very different characters and their lives have certainly taken diverse paths. Hannah, before retiring, lived a solitary existence with just a few animals; Amanda, although isolated, is surrounded by her extensive family and hundreds of sheep and other animals. But they are similar in that both are strong willed and extremely hard working individuals, showing true Yorkshire grit. Both have beautiful complexions – that’s what clean Yorkshire air and clear Dales water does for you – with gentle mannerisms and caring attitudes. In my head I can still hear Hannah’s soothing tones, tinted with that North-East influence you find amongst those born near the Tees. Amanda, originally from Huddersfield, retains a hint of the West Riding in her speech which I recognise from my own childhood in the Heavy Woollen District. Both are completely unpretentious with a natural warmth, and I feel privileged to have met the two of them. Yorkshire women aren’t all Nora Batty stereotypes – they can be inspirational too. http://www.countrymanmagazine.co.uk

Yorkshire amanda — Amanda Owen and two of her younger children at her Ravenseat home

As relief from a spot of decorating, on Wednesday I drove through several Yorkshire Dales and up to Dent Station. Directly above me was as clear a blue sky I’d seen for ages, but looking towards the horizon the distant view was masked by a fine mist. The landscape west down Dentdale was still impressive but the bitterly cold wind meant I didn’t linger for long. Over the old Coal Road the views down Wensleydale, Mallerstang and Garsdale were similarly shrouded. I stopped off at Garsdale Station to pat my favourite metal dog, Ruswarp. He was still gazing out expectantly waiting for the return of his master. A quick stroll to Cotter Force proved as worthwhile as ever. The sound of tumbling water seemed to echo around like applause in a small theatre.

On Friday more blue sky in Ribblesdale tempted me out again. Penyghent and Fountains Fell looked great but further along the Silverdale Road I hit low cloud. I could hardly see 20 yards in front of me which meant the route along the narrow unfenced road and the steep descent into Halton Gill was interesting to say the least.

A stunning morning yesterday saw me at Helwith Bridge. The view along Ribblesdale from above the fishery was grand (see top pic). My old friend Penyghent looked like an iced cake. I imagine plenty of people were tempted to trek up the mountain but I was f-f-f-f-frozen – no way would I have gone up there, so it was back home for some proper cake.

Tag: Dales

Back in the Dales with a smile on my face

Back on the moors

Back in the dales

Back in Ribblesdale

And finally…

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Dales for the soul, Crackpot ideas and the Malham Monster

The Malham Monster

Mystery dales bird

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Nakedness, monks and dry Dales days

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16 new Dales photos to view

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Why my art lies in the Yorkshire Dales

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Why Horton stirs dales memories

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My encounter with the Dales reds

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How we build walls in the Dales, Mr Trump

When I get older losing my hair… etc

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Dales waterfalls provide memorable moments

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Inspirational Yorkshire women

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Back on the moors

Back in the dales

Back in Ribblesdale

And finally…

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The Malham Monster

Mystery dales bird

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When I get older losing my hair… etc

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