Ribblesdale Archives - Page 7 of 21 - Scribble by the Ribble

My war plans for Yorkshire unveiled

When I’m president of the People’s Undemocratic Republic of Yorkshire, and when Lancashire has been converted into my private golf course, I’ll be ordering southerners to build a wall from the Humber to the Mersey. The annexing of the Lake District will have been completed by then. The Geordie Camps, set up along the Tees for north easterners to be taught how to speak properly before being allowed across the border, will be producing a steady flow of workers for the Yorkshire Parkin mines. Yorkshire will not only be a buffer zone between the warring factions of Scotland and London but will also provide sanctuary for poor immigrants from Lincolnshire and East Anglia who have no hills. Should any cocky Cockney pilot try to enter Yorkshire airspace I will launch T’ Mam of all Bombs from the Alan Bennett International Airport, aiming to destroy the set of Eastenders. I aim to allocate more than half a dozen boats from Whitby to patrol the Thames Estuary, a show of force that will act as a deterrent and send a message that Yorkshire’s not to be messed abhat wi’.

As you can see, war has been on my mind. Around the world, scum has been rising to the top of the melting pot. Unhinged despots have been allowed to take charge of countries; selfish, trigger-happy tyrants flexing their muscles without a care for the consequences of their pathetic bravado.

I spent a day at the Yorkshire Air Museum at Elvington near York this week where I was reminded in graphic detail what happened the last time a maniac tried to rule the world. We would all do well to remember that what our eldest generation witnessed here in our country 60+ years ago is actually happening now elsewhere in the world. Will we ever learn?

Yorkshire at its best: top picture and the two here show Giggleswick Scar and Settle on a bright and breezy Saturday evening.

Above, Stainforth Scar and lovely Langcliffe in Ribblesdale this week.

Ingleborough from near Buckhaw Brow as the light fades.

At the other end of the day: Smearsett Scar from Winskill in Ribblesdale just after sunrise.

BREAKING NEWS – Leeds United Airlines statement regarding the man being dragged kicking and screaming from the 8.30am flight from Birmingham Jasper Carrot Airport to the Alan Bennett International Airport: We would like to apologise to all passengers for any disruption caused by the removal by security staff of this man. Contrary to Press reports, the flight was not overbooked – we just didn’t like his accent.

See life and death beside the river

I usually head north for my regular ramble by the Ribble (click link for 11 new Dales photos) but in a week when I’ve been pushed for time I headed for a short walk in the opposite direction. The sun sparkled across the river as I walked beside it from the waterfall at Kings Mill in Settle to the bypass. The Ribble is wide and shallow here but the ‘high tide’ marks are clearly visible well into the fields showing just how swollen the river can get at times.

I left the Ribble Way, saving the walk to Rathmell for another day, and turned up by the former Runley Watermill, continuing on up Lodge Road. Then it was back along Brockhole Lane to Settle. ‘Brock’ is the old name for a badger which is a bit of a coincidence as I’d just seen a dead badger near the Ribble. It had a dead bird on its back. How they met their fates I don’t know. It’s not pleasant coming across death on your walk – I apologise if the photo upsets some people. I’m not being sensationalist – similar scenes appear all over the countryside and you have to get used to them, even on public footpaths.

There have been some great variations in light this week. The top photo in this post was taken yesterday evening from Winskill, looking towards Ingleborough across Ribblesdale. It’s a bit grainy and the light is fading but I liked the shades of colour as late sunlight was filtered through thin mist. Penyghent also caught my eye again on another clear evening…

With all this talk of death I thought I should be a little more cheerful and include a couple of new-life shots… all together now, aawww…

Three Peaks rules and a girly Scotsman

There’s barely a day goes by when the Three Peaks or the Settle-Carlisle Railway don’t crop up in conversation around this part of Ribblesdale. In the last seven days we’ve seen a massive influx of folk from all over the country head our way to watch Flying Scotsman – which apparently is a ‘she’, not a ‘he’ (I blame the confusion on kilts) – travel up the line to celebrate the reopening of the stretch between Appleby and Carlisle.

The old ‘girl’ certainly has pulling power, not only in the physical sense … just how many people lined the whole route from Oxenhope, where it started the journey on the Keighley & Worth Valley line, to Carlisle I can’t imagine. I got a photo as it passed Langcliffe in the morning, then I joined hundreds of people at Ribblehead Viaduct for the evening return beneath Whernside.

Earlier in the week I took a quieter (and less expensive) train for a day in Appleby. There are some pleasant easy walks around the town beside the River Eden, lovely churches and buildings, but it was a shame the castle gardens were not open on such a lovely day.

On the train I ear-wigged a conversation between three young walkers (young to me being under 40) who were chatting about the Three Peaks walk which they were now thinking of taking on after seeing the view through the windows. They were talking about Three Peaks ‘rules’ – which I thought was a shame really … ‘You’ve got to do the ‘official’ route, log in and out, complete within the time allowed etc.’ they said. What tosh – just go out there and enjoy the walk and scenery, I thought. There is no ‘official’ route – it can be between just over 23 and just under 26 miles depending on which way you go. The walk takes as long as you want it to, or are capable of.
Author and writer Alfred Wainwright was a miserable old fart like me, and he wrote about the Three Peaks: ‘Some participants have chosen to regard the walk as a race, and this is to be greatly regretted, walking is a pleasure to be enjoyed in comfort …,’ he grumbled.
According to that ever-reliable (!) source of all knowledge, Wikipedia, the first recorded ascent of the three hills was in July 1887 by J R Wynne-Edwards and D R Smith in a time of 10 hours.
Amongst my collection of old books (which I refer to as Jackopedia) I uncovered this paragraph from Victorian artist and rambler G T Lowe, written in 1892: “Looking round from the viaduct at Ribblehead, one can appreciate the feat which of late has occupied the attention of a few of our Leeds pedestrians: the ascent of Ingleborough, Whernside and Penyghent in under ten hours. Starting from the Flying Horse Shoe at Clapham, the whole journey over the three summits to Horton-in-Ribblesdale is over twenty-five miles as the crow flies, and affords a grand variety of views of mountains and moorland. Being in good training, we found it a comparatively fair day’s work.”
A love the Victorian understatement – and the fact they used the railways for their day out: Leeds to Clapham – walk the peaks – return Horton to Leeds. I wonder if that version of the Three Peaks can still be done using today’s timetable? Over to you train buffs.

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?

Ribblesdale-by-the sea: a welcome distraction

Ribblesdale isn’t too far from the sea. From several lofty points in the region you can see Morecambe Bay and every so often I feel in the mood to leave the grassy limestone features of Ribblesdale for some seascapes and to breathe in some salty air. My week started on a low point when I had to have my 16-year-old cat put down. The farewell to him on the vet’s table will remain in my memory for ever. Afterwards, I set off driving and ended up in Grange-over-Sands where I’ll bet there were plenty of retired ladies called Doris but the storm of the same name had not yet arrived. Back in Ribblesdale Penyghent went through several changing moods during the week, and helicopters buzzed overhead either picking up distressed hikers or dropping off hardcore for paths. The top photo was taken from Dale Head Farm on the Silverdale road shortly before stormy weather descended.

Locally I had a couple of short wanders around Austwick and Clapham which, despite it being half term for many schools, were remarkably quiet. Holidays might well be the only time we see children in Dales villages in the future, with under-funded councils seemingly determined to shut down small schools. Sadly, it seems life is gradually being squeezed out of many rural areas. Communities need to take control – Clapham Village Store is a good example of positive action.

Why Ribblesdale’s all steamed up

Not Trump – or Blair – or Brexit – no, this week’s hot topic in Ribblesdale is the Tornado. Follow link for more photos. Whether a railway fan or not, the sight of a steam engine running between Skipton and Appleby pulling a regular service has certainly brightened a dull winter here in upper Ribblesdale. Train buffs in their thousands descended on the region for the first scheduled passenger service on a British main line for almost 50 years. More than 5,500 people travelled on the 12 scheduled runs and thousands more watched from stations and vantage points along the scenic route.

ribblesdale railway — Giggleswick in the background

I felt a little inadequate with my cheapish lens and camera as photographers around me brandished equipment the size industrial vacuum cleaners, drones buzzed overhead and even helicopters hovered above the line – especially at Ribblehead Viaduct. There are hundreds of shots far better than mine to be seen on tinternet but here are half a dozen I took from locations in Ribblesdale.

ribblesdale rail — Near Selside heading backwards towards Settle

ribblesdale sun — No, this one’s not showing steam. One decent sunset this week in Ribblesdale.

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/

Tag: Ribblesdale

My war plans for Yorkshire unveiled

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See life and death beside the river

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Three Peaks rules and a girly Scotsman

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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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Ribblesdale-by-the sea: a welcome distraction

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Why Ribblesdale’s all steamed up

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Dales waterfalls provide memorable moments

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When I get older losing my hair… etc

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