Ribblesdale Archives - Page 12 of 21 - Scribble by the Ribble

Ribblesdale, Lambs, Goths & Romans

One grey day this week I motored up Ribblesdale and stopped off at St Leonard’s in Chapel-le-Dale. I’d made a mental note to return to see the snowdrops in the churchyard and on neighbouring land. Snowdrops here are usually a little behind those elsewhere but my timing was perfect. The beck had totally disappeared underground, and the moss-covered limestone and walls hereabouts created an other-worldly feel.

The little chapel’s entrance faces mighty Ingleborough as if in defiance. Its graveyard spills over into nearby land having had to cope with the deaths of more 200 souls who worked on Ribblehead Viaduct between 1869-76. The building mostly dates to the late 17th century although some parts are older. A chapel of ease (built for the local community who found it difficult to travel the eight miles or so to Bentham) is recorded as being here from the late 16th century. There are 18th century alterations and it was restored in 1869. The chapel wasn’t know as St Leonard’s until the 1940s.

I took the narrow former Roman road down into Ingleton. You hope not to meet anything large coming the other way. Alas… living in the Dales you get used to reversing a quarter of a mile. There are very few places to stop and admire the scenery and interesting topography but I recommend a walk along this part of the dale and on nearby footpaths which run alongside Twisleton Scar. Ingleborough always looks impressive from this angle. Good to see the tea van back at at Ribblehead. I only live a few minutes down Ribblesdale but always enjoy a cuppa while staring at the Three Peaks.

Ribblesdale lambs

On Sunday I was still celebrating Huddersfield Town’s 4-1 mauling of Leeds United the previous day. All I captured on a short walk on a grey day were some lambs. The internet is a funny old world. Some people say it reflects the real world – I don’t, but that’s a discussion for a late night when too much booze has been drunk. Sometimes I post what I consider to be a stunning landscape photo on Twitter or a Facebook group and it creates a ripple of appreciation. This week I offered a simple, quickly snapped photo of a lamb with its mother and it prompted a tsunami of responses. Hundreds of internetters leapt for their like buttons and emojis and exclamation marks. They wrote gooey sentiments or humorous lines about mint sauce. I had to turn off the pinging alert on the computer. When I edited magazines I learned that the number one rule is to give the readers what they want – not what you, the editor, wants. If you don’t supply the right material then your regular readers will not continue to buy the magazine. I don’t have to satisfy accountants or directors now, however. I can post whatever I want (if the internet masters deem it appropriate) and if viewers don’t like what I post they can just move on. Not everyone feels able to move on quietly; some have an urge to voice their opinion no matter how crass, petty or vindictive it makes them sound. So, in the hope of satisfying my readers, here is a brief collection of lamb pictures. Coo away…

I was in Harrogate on Monday for the funeral of my sister’s husband Frank who was a lovely man and will be sorely missed by all the family. Everything went well apart from dreadful traffic all around the town. Will Harrogate’s road problem ever be sorted I wonder. Billions is to be wasted on shaving a few minutes off train journeys to London through High Speed rail, when for far less money local rail services could be improved easily to entice more people off the roads. I heard later in the week that the X75 bus service between Skipton and Harrogate has been halted because accountants say it is no longer viable, mainly due to government subsidy cuts. Once again the elderly, the young and the lower paid will be the ones to suffer most of all, while motorists continue to pollute and clog up the roads. Harrogate came out tops in the north-east section Sunday Times Best Places To Live guide (call me cynical if you like, but maybe it came out tops because more people read the Sunday Times in Harrogate than, say, Cleckheaton?). Anyhow, road congestion apart, it is a lovely place (so is Cleckheaton) – the flower displays were fabulous and weeks ahead of those in my part of the world in the Dales.

The cat and I both felt a little down about not being able to get outside due to some miserable midweek weather in Ribblesdale.

The weather picked up eventually and I got away from the Good Friday crowds with a morning stroll around the Eldroth area. The name Eldroth conjours up a sense of the Gothic – but it actually means ‘alder hill’ from Norse words elri + hofuth. It was recorded as Ellerhowyth in 1383. Here, west of the Craven fault line the millstone grit takes over from limestone. Rolling drumlins hide dozens of farms from view. Ancient paths and tracks join them all together like veins, criss-crossing the landscape in all directions. Farmstead names tell their own stories… Rigghead, Black Bank, Ravenshaw, Butterfield Gap, Howith and Accerhill Hall are just a few. I pass through King’s Gate to a hidden trig point at a height of just 207m.

For sale

There’s an old quarry near Eldroth where an abandoned vehicle of some kind is parked far from the nearest road. FOR SALE: one careful owner. Genuine mileage. Needs some minor attention.

Blimey, a quarter of the year’s gone already. Ribblesdale, and especially Settle, is gearing up (pardon the pun, given the impending cycle race) for a very busy season. http://www.visitsettle.co.uk/whats-on.html has details, as do several other sites.

Light fantastic in Yorkshire

This week’s Yorkshire Dales photo diary is jam-packed — with pictures rather than comment. The Yorkshire light can be particularly good at this time of year and even though I’ve been busy with other things, I’ve managed to get out for the odd hour or so to capture some superb conditions.

The sun and the cat got me up early Monday so a quick stroll around the village beckoned. The frontages of three-storey cottages on Langcliffe’s green glowed in the early morning light – it was chilly but bright. On the mill pond two ducks danced in the sun and an abandoned boat conjured up a Famous Five adventure.

In the afternoon I took a short journey into my past. In my early 20s I’d tried some caving and potholing – I wasn’t particularly taken by the sport… views are more thing. Anyway, I walked up to Alum Pot and Long Churn caves near Selside to jog my memory of some of those early underground exploits.

I’d not remembered the stunning views to be had from this spot. The sound of water echoing inside the black holes out on the lonely moors does nothing to entice me into taking up the sport again.

Anyone else think that the dead tree looks like one of those things from a Pepperoni advert trying to escape over the wall surrounding Alum Pot?

The evening promised a good sunset so I visited Winskill. I wasn’t disappointed. There are good silhouettes of the folding hills to be seen here, and the trees growing out of the limestone offer some special foregrounds.

The Yorkshire twilight on Wednesday was gorgeous, too. These trees – on the old road between Clapham and Ingleton – caught my eye as they glowed vividly in the low red sun.

As the sun began to set Moughton took on a red tinge, then it disappeared somewhere over Lancashire behind Robin Procter’s Scar.

Yorkshire drive

I needed an hour away from the computer on Thursday so I headed up to Newby Head for a quick walk up the Pennine Bridleway which follows one of the former drovers route to Coal Road, with branches off to Arten Gill and Widdale.

Looking from here it’s tempting to assume that the name Widdale stems from it being a ‘wide dale’ but that would be wrong. The name means ‘wood dale’ for it was once covered with trees. The trees were gradually stripped out for grazing. Many will remember the dale being replanted with conifers but most of these have gone, too, apart from a few pockets which help with the spread of red squirrels across the area. New native trees are being planted now and future generations will be able to see Widdale nearer to how it was hundreds of years ago.

One hour turned into two as I stopped to admire the views in all directions… towards Dent, across Widdale to Dodd Fell and down to Wensleydale, and also to Penyghent and Ingleborough. Fine Yorkshire Dales all round me. That distant purple mist never really burnt off to leave a clear blue sky – but that can also be magical (see first pic in blog).

Peewits flying overhead, trying to guide me away from their nests, were making the only noise I heard.
Sadly, that’s all I had time for this week but mustn’t grumble – I could be stuck in the middle of London.

Owt good on telly tonight, Dickie?

Ingleborough: peak viewing

Ingleborough is once again the focus of my blog this week although it didn’t set out that way… A bit like the myths surrounding Giggleswick’s Ebbing & Flowing Well (mentioned in my blog of 06/03/16) the legend of Robin Hood’s Mill, just a couple of miles away, arose because of the area’s geology. Just off the Stackhouse road from Little Stainforth to Giggleswick, near the parish boundary, there is a hollow which according to local folklore was the site of Robin Hood’s Mill. The tale goes that Robin was a miller who worked all hours and even on Sundays. As a penance for working on the Sabbath, the weight of his clanking machinery sank further and further into the ground until it completely disappeared from sight. It was said that if you put your ear to the ground, you could still hear the millstones grinding deep below. Before the last war, cavers explored the hole and also heard the rumbling sound. Afterwards, the noise seemed to stop; it is likely that the noise was gurgling water and that the cavers’ excavations merely created more of a sound barrier.

These photos were taken close to the ‘mill’ last Sabbath while I was out working on photographing my patch – I wonder what fate awaits me.

The snow was still laying deep on the higher hills as I walked into Settle on Monday from Langcliffe. White-topped Ingleborough contrasted starkly against the greener lower dale.

The donkeys in a field above Settle are becoming local celebrities with many walkers heading up the steep gradient from Constitution Hill on the Malham trail using the sight of the animals as an excuse to stop and draw breath. They were sunning themselves against the wall. My comments on twitter and Facebook brought in hundreds of likes and retweets:
‘You see, young un, this is why we have front legs shorter than those at the back,’ says the top donkey.
‘But Mum, when I want to warm t’other side I fall over,’ replies the youngster.

On a clear day…

Later in the day I drove to Tatham Fells and then on to Kingsdale (first pic in blog) to view the majestic Ingleborough from other angles. The panorama from the Great Stone of Fourstones, just above Bentham, was the clearest I can recall seeing. The Three Peaks and Gragareth looked splendid but such was the clarity that the Lakeland Fells seemed within touching distance.

Back down in Ribblesdale I couldn’t stop myself taking yet another photo or two around St Oswald’s in Horton.

More dramatic

After a couple of days stuck mainly indoors I headed up to Ribblehead Quarry to stroll around part of the Ingleborough National Nature Reserve. Yet another angle on Ingleborough showed some melting of the snow had taken place but you certainly wouldn’t describe it as spring-like! Whernside and Penyghent weren’t to be ignored, of course; the limestone pavement and quarry rocks provided interesting foregrounds.

New life

The deaths this week of a former work colleague, followed by a cherished family member, has left me somewhat deflated. I was cheered a little by the sight of new life though in the local fields where lambs gambolled without a care in the world. So many new things to discover and adventures to be had. Oh to have that innocence of youth again. The lamb on the right reminds me of my own childhood – my mum was always having to sew knee patches on my trouser legs, too!

Seeing red (and black-and-white) in Ribblesdale

Funny how we take everyday things for granted. Postboxes for example. On my regular Ribblesdale stroll this week I noticed snowdrops growing by a postbox — and have to admit that until I’d seen both snowdrops and postbox together I’d not taken much notice of that bright red metal thing. It got me thinking about other postboxes around the Dales. I hunted through my photo archive for some more examples … and found these in Chapel-le-dale, Langstrothdale (above) and Mallerstang.

If you know of any postboxes in picturesque Dales locations let me know – I might do a bit of ‘collecting’ myself. Apparently there is such a thing as the Letter Box Study Group www.lbsg.org with a website and more than 600 members. I shan’t be joining, but surely taking photos of postboxes is more acceptable than searching the country to capture gas holders? I read this week about one chap who has this as a hobby. His pastime came to the notice of the newspapers when it was decided that the famous gas holder beside the Oval cricket ground in London (yes, non-cricket fans, it really is famous) is to be saved from demolition because it is seen as some kind of icon. Historic England adds: ‘…but our other beautiful gas holders are going’ [to be demolished]. Beautiful? Come on! Seems it is acceptable to churn up hundreds of miles of priceless countryside for the pointless HS2 railway, and to allow our green and pleasant land to be fracked up to kingdom come, but not to knock down a rusting, useless gas holder? It’s a mad, mad world.

Ribblesdale sunsets

Took my first sunset shots of the year last Sunday up on Winskill Stones in Ribblesdale. The late evening sunshine lit up the limestone and also the distant western side of Penyghent. The last few minutes before the sun disappeared over Lancashire provided some startlingly vivid colours.

The following time-lapse shots are a bit arty-farty for me, I know, but I display them only to show the speed of the water at Stainforth Foss on Tuesday following heavy overnight and morning rain in Ribblesdale. The shutter speed is set at just one-fifth of a second which tells you much about the volume and speed of the water passing in front of my camera lens. If you’d like to join me for a couple of minutes at the popular spot you can see a video here https://youtu.be/Agba6D6Txvg Excuse the quality — it’s taken on my normal camera not a video camera, and I was being buffeted by a strong wind.

After the rain came Wednesday’s snow. The village (Langcliffe) took on a different persona — cosier, somehow. The photo of St John’s church (above) looks like a black-and-white, but it isn’t. And despite seeing them a thousand times before, I just had to take a trip further up Ribblesdale to see how the Three Peaks were looking in the snow – and they didn’t disappoint.

This week I’ve had to endure one of life’s greatest hardships. It’s not been easy for me, especially living on my own. Having no kids or partner around to help out has been a total nightmare. Yes, the TV remote broke. Getting up to manually change channels or just to turn the damn thing on and off has left me exhausted and frustrated. Must be the batteries (the remote’s, not mine) I thought, so off I trotted in the snow in search of power. Alas, new batteries didn’t solve the problem. So, another trip to town for a replacement zapper — no one had anything suitable for my TV. Amazon it was then. Three days delivery they said. Aargh! Just how did folk manage before remote controllers?

Regular readers will know of my fondness for the deserted Ribblesdale hamlet of Thorns (pictured above), just a mile or so from Ribblehead Viaduct. Thorns was an important location on a former packhorse route. Records of the settlement I often visit for quiet contemplation, date back to 1190, when it belonged to Furness Abbey. Wills, parish records and censuses indicate that there were five tenements in 1538, three households in 1841, and one uninhabited dwelling in 1891. Those stats are courtesy of the charity Yorkshire Dales Millennium Trust (YDMT) which this week announced it was looking for budding archaeologists to take part in an archaeological survey of Thorns. Visit the website www.ydmt.org for more information.

Yesterday was my birthday. It’s the 63rd time this as occurred so I’m used to birthdays and I don’t take much notice of them now. However, I must admit I was a bit taken aback when I read that a birthday flypast tribute by the Red Arrows had been arranged. How pleasing too that my big day was also the 80th birthday of the Spitfire and I could share my special display with that great invention.

Ribble Rant

The village school closed back in 2007. It was sold six years later for £230,000 and remains unoccupied, the new owners’ plans being refused permission by the National Park. I’ve often wondered who pocketed the money and what was done with it. What I do know for certain is that some accountant somewhere declared that the school as an education establishment was ‘economically unviable’ and shut it down. Its closure certainly wouldn’t have been decided by locals or teaching staff. Village schools help keep dales communities together – but that’s not something an accountant working on behalf of government can quantify in monetary terms so it is ignored.
I know a lot of teachers – or more precisely ex-teachers (many of them jumping ship as soon as their pensions would allow them to do so) – and I’m probably more sympathetic to the plight of teachers and how the education system is being run than a lot of the general public. I attended teacher training college before finding an opening in journalism and I was married to a teacher for many years. So I’ve kept an eye on education matters – as we all should, really … after all, this is the country’s and our children’s/grandchildren’s future we’re talking about.
The problems and solutions are far too numerous and complex for me to go into in depth here. But I will say that I wish politicians would just leave alone something about which they know and understand very little. Many of them attended expensive private schools which bear no co-relation with the education of the masses. Most have no idea about the everyday life of teaching a class or running a school, yet ministers (and accountants) decide the rules and regulations by which our children are educated. I have the feeling that government would prefer if teachers just brainwashed children so that they don’t have any individual thoughts, or think creatively or question their elders.

One of my singer/songwriter heroes is Tom Paxton, and this week I listened again to one of his songs from the 1960s, called ‘What did you learn in school today, dear little boy of mine?’. The verses, although based on the USA at the time, could well ring true today in this country and elsewhere. Here are some of the words which his little boy said in response to the question:
…
I learned that Washington never told a lie.
I learned that soldiers seldom die.
I learned that everybody’s free.
And that’s what the teacher said to me.
…
I learned that policemen are my friends.
I learned that justice never ends.
I learned that murderers die for their crimes.
Even if we make a mistake sometimes.
…
I learned our government must be strong.
It’s always right and never wrong.
Our leaders are the finest men.
And we elect them again and again.
…
I learned that war is not so bad.
I learned of the great ones we have had.
We fought in Germany and in France.
And some day I might get my chance.

That’s what I learned in school today.

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!

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.

Ribblesdale lambs

For sale

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Yorkshire drive

Owt good on telly tonight, Dickie?

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On a clear day…

More dramatic

New life

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Ribblesdale sunsets

Ribble Rant

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Strangers in the dales

Dales nymphs

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High value in Ribblesdale

Peaks & Scones

Setting the tone

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Ribblesdale mayhem?

Mind clearing

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Countryside destruction

Museum asset stripping

Harking back

A song for the Ribble

Priorities

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Weather or not

Yorkshire twang

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Doing the Boot-Boots Hop

Bridge over the Thames

Ribblesdale immigration issues

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