Shame, blame, radar, birds and trains

housebleaLast Sunday was one of those grey Dales days which have been all too familiar this summer. Nevertheless I drove to Ribblehead where often on a summer Sunday there can be more people than on Blackpool prom – but it wasn’t too bad. Knowing that a steam train was due to be heading back from Carlisle I walked up to Blea Moor until my head almost reached the height of the low cloud. Approaching Blea Moor signal box I recalled a diary piece I wrote around five years ago for Dalesman concerning the lonely house which is situated next to the box. It was in a poor state and the ‘garden’ was covered in tons of scrap metal – a real eyesore. This was the first impression many travelers got of Ribblesdale as they entered from the north-west and so the owner was asked to clean it up, which he did to a fashion. As seen in my pic above, It doesn’t look too good again today and the house seems deserted – a great shame.

saltpygHowever, looking back down the dale I managed to capture something more cheerful as a brief shaft of sunlight illuminated the valley while Penyghent remained shrouded in mist.

birdsbathI could hear the cat growling while he was sitting on the internal window ledge. This usually means there are birds outside which he can’t get at. Together we watched a group of sparrows and finches having a bath in the puddles –  but our thoughts about ‘capturing’ them differed somewhat.

traingiggIt’s steam train season here in Ribblesdale and during the peak summer period there can be five a week passing up and down the Settle-Carlisle railway. They attract people to the area and help keep the grand old line open. The politically correct may consider these great machines as eco-unfriendly. If they were running an hourly service every day of the year I might agree with them. But I’d still rather see one of these chugging up the dale than a hundred polluting cars any day. On Tuesday I captured this one as it was leaving Settle.

trainais1With a good forecast for Wednesday I’d planned to pollute the dales myself by driving over to Wensleydale through Mallerstangdale, then head back via Birkdale and Swaledale. Perfect timing saw me meeting another steamer on the line near Aisgill (above pic) where the line leaves Yorkshire and enters Westmorland. This is the final major climb for the train and a popular location for train buffs.

warningOn clear days the views as you climb the road out of Nateby are breathtaking. With the Eden Valley, North Pennines, Howgill Fells then bleak Birkdale and Ravenstonedale plus the uppermost reaches of Swaledale all visible, this journey is one of the best in the dales. In the distance can be seen the Air Traffic Control’s radar station on top of Great Dun Fell (2782 ft), in the North Pennines. The private road which ascends to the ‘giant golf ball’ is the highest surfaced road in England. Slightly further up the Pennine chain is Mickle Fell (2585 ft) whose summit is the highest point in Yorkshire (proper boundary).thwaite

Sadly I couldn’t manage the rest of Swaledale as the road was shut from near Thwaite (where I took the above pic) because of work on Usha Gap Bridge. Not for the first time a vehicle failed to negotiate the narrow bridge – and also Ivelet Bridge further down the road. These bridges weren’t built for big loads so the authorities need to do one of two things: forget about preserving the past and knock them down and build ones suitable for the 21st century; or ban unsuitable vehicles from the road. Knocking some common sense into drivers might also be a solution.

heronflightAfter being in the car for such a long period I needed a walk that evening and managed to capture this heron when it dashed passed me as I walked by the Ribble. Technically it’s not a good shot but it does show the superb aerodynamic nature of this ancient bird.

fieldlangThursday: the farmer created a new view on my regular walk by cutting one of his fields, while back in the village the memorial fountain was colourfully dressed for today’s VJ Service.

langmenflowLo and behold, I also encountered another train this time completely by accident. As I walked to the Hoffman Kiln in Langcliffe I saw photographers waiting for the arrival of the engine Galatea. The footpath is right next to the line and you can feel the ground rumble as the great monster gets up close and personal.

galatealangYesterday was a big day in the village as the efforts of talented locals were on view at the annual show. Sadly I was otherwise engaged but I did participate and was lucky enough to earn a first for three of my photos and a second for this black and white photo of New Street…langcliffeBW

Vapour, steam, bridges, foxes, reflections and ruins in Ribblesdale

vapour

I never left Ribblesdale during the last seven days – as my photo diary testifies. Poor weather for June really, so I kept local. But it all started so promisingly. The dale woke up on Monday to a bright blue sky littered with party streamers – vapour trails, which I blamed on Lancastrians on Facebook. I’d presumed they were sending planes from Manchester to pollute our Yorkshire skies. However, I learned later that the majority of them came from London – even worse.
The early stroll took me by an extremely low river Ribble where I saw a duck with eight cute ducklings struggling to keep up. I ‘m annoyed with myself for not getting a better photo of them but I couldn’t get close enough. The duck stayed hidden as a large grey heron was stalking the riverbank. It flew off as I approached and again I cocked-up the photo.

ducklingsheron
I did, however, get some some nice shots of cows drinking from the Ribble and spotted this amazing upside down hovering cow. It’s standing on the opposite bank, hidden behind the tree branches, but it’s reflection along with that of the sky is sharp on the still water of the river.

cow
From then the weather took a distinctly downhill turn. I got soaked on Wednesday lunchtime at Helwith Bridge waiting for the Fellsman steam train on the Settle-Carlisle. The engine was Leander 45690 for those who fret about such detail.  I don’t – but I love the spectacle of steam. The train makes such a dramatic entrance, full of energy and exuberance. The regular train snappers had taken up position at one side of the bridge but I thought there might be a more unusual portrait from t’ other, and was rewarded with this shot. I drained out what tiny specks of colour remained amongst all the rain, mist and steam.

fellsmansmall
Later that day I wandered down the Pennine Bridleway near Selside with the double aim of seeing the train on its way back and also to look in on a unique bridge over the Ribble. I was able to get up close and personal with the train as it coasted down the dale, reminding me of an old toy train set.

trainclose
When I edited Dalesman I witnessed the opening of a special wooden-arched bridge taking riders, cyclists and walkers over the river as part of the 200-mile Pennine Bridleway. At 174-feet long, Far Moor Bridge is said to be the longest of its kind of structure anywhere in the world. I remembered it as a bright, shiny piece of architecture, a little garish for its situation, but now it has weathered and is becoming part of a scene rarely visited by the general public. And apart from a couple of cavorting oyster-catchers there was no other life on this world record holder today.

bridge
A record for me was the sight, for the first time, of a fox prowling these parts. I’d no chance of photographing it as it disappeared as soon as we saw each other. It’s pretty rough land here, partly a flood plain, but there were lambs about and I wondered whether the farmer knew of the fox on his doorstep.

ruinrib
There’s also an abandoned farm building here. The land is bleak, the weather was dismal, and the derelict building reminded me of a poem I’d started to write a while back but never really developed:
Memories swirling around
silent stubborn stones
are recalled only by the ghosts
of those who once breathed
within the now crumbling walls.
They opened its doors
with faith and hope
of taming land so barren and wild.
No dreams of great riches —
enough to get by would suffice:
clogs for the children, meat for a pie.
But Nature at its wildest and meanest
knows nothing of sympathy
— or hardship or pain.
The futile battle was lost
and now Nature reclaims
what is rightfully hers.
Once a welcome refuge
for those who toiled the land
lies abandoned and forlorn,
inhabitants long gone —
only their memories swirl around
those silent stubborn stones.

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