Photos of the Yorkshire Dales Paul Jackson Ribblesdale
One of the best things about Yorkshire is that you don’t have to climb great big mountains to enjoy fabulous views. Even a distant mist couldn’t spoil the outlook yesterday as I walked around Moughton Scar above Austwick. The views down Crummackdale and over the clints and grykes of the limestone pavement to both Penyghent and Ingleborough were stunning. I’m going to be writing up the walk shortly – here are a couple of pics to whet your appetite…
Up with the birds this morning, I decided to stroll round the village taking photos of some of the trees as they enjoyed the early sunshine. (Apologies to the lady just opening her bedroom curtains – I REALLY was taking pics of the trees… I’ll see you again in court.) St Mary’s churchyard in Long Preston looked particularly stunning, especially this sycamore. What a fabulous way to start the day.
Packed the passport and translation guide; filled an emergency box with pies, Wensleydale cheese, Yorkshire puds and curd tarts; ferrets were caged up in t’ boot. I donned flat cap and keyed in sat nav details… for Dartmoor. A Yorkshireman ‘abroad’ can’t be careful enough. I’d heard t’ weather darn sarf could be fair to middlin’ this time o’ year so the remaining sun tan lotion from my last trip abroad (Majorca 1998) was deposited in the glove compartment. The drive gave me a numb bum. Couldn’t thoil service station prices so I drank my flask of tea and ate my Wensleydale and beetroot sandwiches with all the other Yorkshire folk leaning against their motors in the car park. I was fair capped when I got to Dartmoor – it’s almost the same as Yorkshire but not as grand. The Tors reminded me of Nidderdale around Brimham Rocks; the distant views of the North York Moors towards the coast; and the bleak, wild moors of the South Pennines above Holmfirth. Makes you wonder why I bothered doing a round trip of over 700 miles really. The folk there talk funny, not like us, but they’re friendly enough. So if you ever feel an odd urge to get out of our county without really leaving it, I can recommend heading for Dartmoor (but beware, there are some bloody strange spots in between). Oh, the weather was drizzly, misty and windy – just like in Yorkshire.
I’ve put together a walk of around six miles, starting and finishing at Helwith Bridge in Ribblesdale. It uses the Ribble Way by the river to Horton then a minor back road to Dub Cote. From here it’s uphill to join Long Lane back down to Helwith Bridge. There are three pubs on the route. Have a look here…
http://www.long-preston.co.uk/site/editorial_files/walkingflip/index.html
I’m hoping to put a few more Ribblesdale walks together so I’d appreciate any comments about the appearance and ease of use of the site. I know the picture files make it slow loading and I’m working on that aspect.
There was some lovely late sunlight t’ other night which called for a little drive. From Settle I took the Malham road over the moor, stopping off for five minutes at Scaleber Force – not as spectacular as I’ve seen it, but a magical place and always worth a visit. Malhamdale, wearing its green and grey uniform, opens up in front of you as you head along this quiet back road. But this night the tops of the western facing slopes were a warm yellow as the sun began to slip behind Malham Moor. I just managed to get this shot of the cove, now empty of the usual hordes of visitors. Then it was up and over the moor back into Ribblesdale to watch the sun finally go down over Ingleborough from Winskill – pictured below. This is why I love living in the Dales.
I’ve damaged tendons in my right shoulder doing some DIY (don’t ask!) hence the lack of activity on my blog page. I can type for a little while as long as my forearm is flat on the desk. Doc’s given me a cocktail of tablets to take which I’m quite enjoying – I might ask if I can have a prescription for recreational use. Funny how the simplest of tasks become virtually impossible when you temporarily lose use of one arm – putting on a shirt, washing your hair, driving, cooking… try it for a day, you’ll be surprised. Fortunately I’m ambidextrous when it comes to drinking. At least I’ve spent some time relaxing in the sun today and if it is the same weather tomorrow I’m off for a walk in Ribblesdale – it’s my shoulder that’s duff not my little old legs.
So say the lyrics of some song sung by someone I can’t remember and can’t be bothered to look up. I’ve felt the same melancholy looking out of my windows this week so I tracked back through my photo archive to see what the weather has been like at this time of year over the last decade. This picture is one from 2010 – taken because I thought I saw the face of a cat in the sky. I hadn’t been drinking, honest. I used the photo in a blog I did for Countryman magazine at the time and several readers wrote in to say they spotted it too… can you?
The photo was taken at Bookilber, above Long Preston in Ribblesdale
I managed to capture one of those magical Dales skies this evening. There seemed to be so much happening – shadow and light dancing along the ground and layer upon layer of clouds and muted colours above. A razor-edged shaft of light came in from the left just for a few seconds to give the scene even more interest. The distant cloud is just brushing the top of Ingleborough. Many a time I’ve watched the sun go down from here at Winskill, up above Langcliffe in Ribblesdale.
At the weekend I took this photo of a run-down farm high on the hills between Slaidburn and Bentham because the scene reminded me a little of an Ashley Jackson painting. It’s missing a dramatic glowering sky but contains several other elements of his enigmatic work… even down to the poles and power/telephone lines. The moors here are rough and windswept; the buildings show the scars from endless battles against the elements. This area above Stocks Reservoir has more of a feel of Ashley’s South Pennines than the limestone Dales further north, a bridge between the two distinct areas. If you swivel left of this view you can usually see Ingleborough peeking between the hills which guard the infant river Hodder in its steep sided valley. A minor road snakes through this dale like some mini Alpine pass. On clear days, to the west you can pick out the beginnings of the industrial areas of Lancashire… so the less said about that the better. Ashley describes Yorkshire’s moors as his mistress… hope he doesn’t mind me flirting with her a little here.
PS I can recommend a visit to Ashley Jackson’s Gallery in Holmfirth – see www.ashley-jackson.co.uk (and no, we’re not related. Although, come to think of it, we’re both short with grey hair… and my dad did have a bike…)
(I played around with the picture in Photoshop to create more of a watercolour effect.)
If you get the chance, drive along the road between Stainforth and Halton Gill. This Silverdale which joins Ribblesdale with Littondale around the east side of Penyghent – there are some fabulous views. Went there late afternoon when I spotted some blue sky. By gum it were fair windy but at least the cobwebs were blown away after I’d had four hours of dealing with Countryman emails. Here are some pics from the first half of the journey – the sheep mistook me for the farmer and they got a bit miffed when I didn’t feed them.
