By Ribble’s stream I’ll pass my days,
If wishes aught avail;
For all that mortals want or praise
Is found in Ribblesdale.
So goes the first verse of Novello’s madrigal, The Charms of Ribblesdale. (I’d love to hear it sung so if anyone knows of a recording please let me know.) The poem’s sentimentality may be a tad OTT but I did feel the need to sing the dale’s praises myself on Monday. Wandering alone – give or take a few dozen sheep – around the deserted settlement of Thorns I wondered why anyone would ever want to leave such an idyllic spot. After just a short ascent from the crumbling buildings glorious views of the dale open up – without the effort and toil of struggling up one of the peaks. 
I continued a little further along the Ribble Way which heads from Thorns towards High Birkwith. Within half a mile of Thorns is another derelict building, Back Hools Barn (note to self: find out about that name!).
One sheep on lookout duty at the door alerted a gang of other sheepish looking characters obviously up to no good inside. They scarpered as I took a nosey at the rotting wooden partitions and beams. The stone doorways and window lintels were nicely carved and a mason’s mark showed he was proud of his work.
Barns and walls are the furniture of the dales and, despite being man-made, without them the whole area would be less appealing. Back in 2006 the National Park did a sample survey which showed that 58 per cent of all traditional farm buildings were in a state considered unfavourable. Of 310 such sites surveyed in Ribblesdale 32 per cent were classified as poor or worse (ruinous or demolished) while 37 per cent were classified as good or excellent. Of the rest, 17 per cent had been converted to residential use and 14 per cent were classed as fair. I’d be interested to know what the figures now show.
On a wet day this week I looked back through some of last year’s photos and posted on Twitter and Facebook this sunset on Ingleborough. It caused quite a stir and brought me more’ likes’, ‘favourites’ and ‘retweets’ than I’d ever got before. Funnily enough, I think my previous ‘best’ was of a similar light on Penyghent. I would go for a hat-trick with a shot on Whernside but its position at sunset is not as favourable – perhaps a sunrise would suffice if I can be bothered to crawl out from under the duvet early enough.
On Thursday I set off on a gentle circular walk from Helwith Bridge beside the river to Horton, intending to return below the quarries to Foredale. However, a sign informed me that part of the return route was closed for the rest of the year – which seemed a bit draconian just for a couple of hundreds yards of path. Curiosity didn’t get the better of me this time but I might do some discrete investigation at a later date. The little bunny on the other side of this dramatic ‘no entry’ sign either can’t read or is a bit of a rebel.
Foredale’s row of cottage with unforgiving background always reminds me of a Welsh mining scene or a landslip disaster waiting to happen. It’s not like that at all really and if you haven’t seen the film Lad: A Yorkshire Story which is shot in this area, I recommend you do so immediately.
The railway line was busy during my walk – goods going up and steam coming down.
The river certainly livened up as the week wore on, and after last night’s storms today the sun is out once again. And so am I.
Tag: goods train
The ups and downs of a Dales summer
People were rushing for their sunglasses in Ribblesdale this week – not to shade their eyes from the welcome sun but to prevent glare from my milk-white legs which I exposed to an unwary public for the first time in a couple of years.
Last Sunday there was some lovely evening light which I was lucky enough to witness at Lower Winskill. The peaks of Smearsett Scar and a distant Ingleborough looked cool.
On Monday I popped back down to Langcliffe Mill pond to see if the tiny chicks were still around and was relieved to see there were still nine despite the presence of a huge heron.
A goods train from Carlisle passed beneath me as I trundled over the footbridge and I thought what a better way this was to transport stone from the quarries than via the hundreds of noisy trucks which pass on the nearby B6479 road.
I felt sorry for the sheep on a humid Tuesday as they struggled with heavy woollen coats but found some shade beside this cute little barn next to the Ribble. Close by are these lovely allotments – a credit to those who tend them.
An earlier comment I read on Facebook had reminded me of a Grade ii* listed building in Ribblesdale called Lodge Hall, sometimes known as Ingman’s Lodge. Many walkers doing the Three Peaks will have passed by the 17th-century building which, along with several outbuildings, doesn’t look in the best of condition. I’m in no way having a go at the owner but I would have thought English Heritage or similar would want to ensure this architectural treasure is maintained for future generations to admire. The dog here didn’t seem too pleased with my interference.
The same day, I drove down the top end of Dentdale and happened upon this steam train leaving Dent Station, and I also managed to capture it as it crossed Dent Head Viaduct. A great sight and tribute to those who worked hard to keep the Settle-Carlisle Railway open. (Can I assure friends here that I DO NOT need an intervention regarding any perceived obsession with trains.)
I got up early for a stroll by the Ribble from Langcliffe to Stainforth on Friday. But I was left downbeat by the sad state of the area around Stainforth Foss. It looked like there’d been a mini-Glastonbury Festival there … cans, bottles and other garbage strewn everywhere, even in the river. Goodness knows what it was like over the weekend – the place means a lot to me and I dare not go look just yet. Come on, Park Rangers and police – this behaviour is not just a disgrace but also illegal – do something about it.
On my way back home, as I was chuntering to myself about how I’d make the morons pick up the litter with their teeth, I popped my head into the Hoffmann Kiln. The light reflected from the bright, sun-lit greenery produced a stunning effect inside this man-made cavern. My first thought was what a tremendous art gallery this could become.
The weather? It’s been a week of sun, rain, hailstones the size of golf balls, high winds, gentle summer breezes and soaring temperatures, not to mention the thunder and lightning which played havoc with my electricity and computer. The ups and downs of summer in the Dales.