The dales donned winter clothes this week. Autumn hues hung around the route of the River Ribble while higher up, snow clung to the hillsides. The Three Peaks all dressed differently on the day I drove round the trio. Penyghent (above) caught a bit of sun and looked streaky and cold, yet inviting. Whernside looked settled and serene, the peak playing peek-a-boo through the clouds. Ingleborough seemed more angry about the whole affair, wrestling with the clouds. I felt an icy reception as I trampled around its foothills looking for a decent photo. We’re not really in winter yet but days like this remind walkers that the dales demand respect at all times.
Icy landscape looking up Chapel-le-DaleRainbow near Gearstones
Passport and phrase book in hand I left the Dales for the Lake District on Friday. As usual with my trips to the North West I head towards the blue sky over the distant South Lakeland Fells you can see from the A65 in Yorkshire – but which by the time I reach them they are covered in a grey fug. Still, after completing the job I had to do in Coniston I managed to grab a few worthwhile shots.
Sun halo over Coniston WaterLooking towards Coniston
I got to Coniston at 11am on the 11th of the 11th and pulled into the empty car park for two minutes of silence. That done I paid 20p for a toilet visit and had a quick nosey around the information centre. I then noticed that car parking cost £3 for a short stay then further arms and legs after that. The first 15 minutes are free and with the car clock now showing 11.17 I made a hasty exit. No wonder Coniston’s narrow streets are packed with cars and several businesses are for sale. I wait to see whether the number plate recognition system will take into consideration my two-minute stop to pay my respects. This is no place for tight Yorkshiremen.
Back in the Dales I tweeted a photo showing the war memorial at Horton-in-Ribblesdale with the line ‘Yet people still vote for those who promote hatred’, prompted by you-know-who’s election (clue: in Yorkshire slang his name aptly means ‘obnoxious smell emanating from ones posterior’). It truly astounds me that a country with 325m inhabitants could only come up with those two characters for their president.
Earlier in the week I was following the story of the sink hole in Ripon. I know it’s a very serious problem for those involved but I had to laugh at the BBC Look North’s tweet which included this quote from a resident: “I went outside and it was all dusty, my neighbour was out there in a dressing gown and it was a real mess.”
Never mind luv, my old dressing gown’s not that good either.
Regular followers will know I’ve taken many photos of Drybeck Farm here in Ribblesdale. I was pleased to receive this week a calendar produced by Agrii which features one such picture of mine. Proceeds from the calendar go to farming charities.
I think I developed an RSI problem with my camera clicking finger while photographing the Dales this week. Trying to capture what I believed would be the last of the best autumn colours I’ve driven many a mile through many a dale and taken many a picture. I won’t bore you with the full collection but here are some highlights plus a quick rant. The top photo is my favourite of the week. On Monday, reaching the highest point of Buttertubs Pass coming from the Swaledale end, this view opened up. It’s a bit of an unsteady hand-held zoom shot showing a distant Ingleborough, Widdale and hills in between. The light autumn mist in the dales and a mild pink sky created a beautiful sight. Better seen first hand than on a screen.
I drove through Wensleydale to Aysgarth Falls and couldn’t resist a black and white of the dominant Bolton Castle
I took dozens of photos at Aysgarth of the falls and the Ure. These are some I didn’t post on my Twitter account.From wide Wensleydale into narrow Swaledale which looked stunning. Reeth, Gunnerside and Muker were a picture in their autumn garb.
Lovely Littondale on Tuesday.I know, I’ve taken this shot umpteen times but it’s one of my favourites and it’s my blog so I’ll do what I want.Dale Head Farm and Penyghent. If I had the brass I’d help the farmer finish off that barn roof – it would make a lot nicer shot!Grey skies around Langcliffe but still plenty of colour on show
Ribblesdale: my weekly walk into Settle market on a Tuesday along the Highway from Langcliffe.
Dales town disgrace
At first I thought they were a Trick or Treat prank. But no, they were still in place the following day – I’m talking about those ghastly luminous yellow double-lines that now disgrace Settle’s lovely town centre. I’m in favour of preventing stupid parking but this vandalism is well out of proportion. They are garish, ugly, unwelcoming and urban. They can be seen from the surrounding hills and the Dales National Park, and probably from the Moon. I’ve been to other popular country places where a subtle thin line with appropriate notices about parking restrictions have satisfied the law, suited the town’s character and appeased the residents. Had some yobs daubed such graffiti in the town there would have been an almighty Halloween witch hunt. Which bureaucrat sanctioned this unsightly mess and why? Sorry about that Daily Mail reader rant but I really do find this particular excessive painting offensive and unnecessary.
Summer can be all too brief, especially here in the Dales. Hopefully there are a few more warm days to come. Here are fourteen shots from a Dales ‘summer’ …
First shot and above, sheep enjoying a summer sunset in the dales – both taken at Winskill, Ribblesdale
The signpost should really read ‘Good weather left, stormy weather right’
Looking the other way from the previous picture of Penyghent taken at Dale Head Farm, I like the way the wall follows the ridge
Looking across the Ribble near Horton in Ribblesdale
Shame about the telephone wires but still a nice shot of a tree in the Ribble meadows with Penyghent looming ominously in the background
There aren’t many flatish, open spaces in Upper Ribblesdale – this one is between Horton and Helwith Bridge
I posted a similar shot to this a few weeks back but prefer this one with a shaft of sunshine lighting up the meadow in Horton, and Penyghent looking dark and moody in the background.
Someone shouted ‘mint sauce!’ and started a stampede
A Dales stile and drystone wall with interesting sky. Fountains Fell in the background.
Sheep couldn’t care less about what’s happening in the Dales sky.
Not the clearest view of Pendle Hill from near the top of the Craven Fault above Settle.
Trees soaking up the summer sun in the ground of Langcliffe Hall, Ribblesdale. (I’m peering over the wall, not trespassing!)
Finally, a shot of Marsett in Raydale – hidden just over the hills from the Dales of Ribblesdale, Wharfedale and Wensleydale.
For the benefit of anyone tracing their family tree – particularly in West and North Yorkshire – I have now published a list of surnames connected to my own family. Click on the Family History page to see whether your surname is included – if so, please feel free to contact me via the comments section or by email on paul@jacksoneditorial.co.uk and we’ll discover whether you have a link to my lot.
After some poor weather I was desperate to get out of the house. So on Tuesday evening I drove through Ribblesdale, over Newby Pass to Wensleydale. The earlier rain had lifted the river Ure and adjoining becks so I thought two popular waterfalls might be worth visiting. Cotter Force (below) was shaded and mysterious, but pleasant, while nearby at Hardraw (above) the water clattered noisily into the great chamber of the scar. I was alone at both places and came over all poetic…
Cotter Force
Soothing sound
Quiet dale
Cackling water
Sweet cascade.
Languid heron
Patient angler
Lurches skyward
Seeing stranger.
Hardraw Force
Noisy neighbour
Violent slapping
Never ending
Diving splashing.
Green Dragon
Wood burning
Breathing fire
Landlord earning.
The Green Dragon remains an atmospheric pub despite some odd extensions and additions on the adjoining land. I don’t remember it costing £2.50 to enter the waterfall grounds the last time I was there, but I don’t begrudge the money to visit such a spectacular place. Many years ago when we camped nearby as youngsters we would walk through the churchyard to enter the great echoing theatre through which the beck flows, saving ourselves a thrupenny bit.
Short shaky video here https://youtu.be/h2I5fB3st4g
I just had to stop by the roadside to capture the black cloud heading towards Penyghent on the Silverdale road on Wednesday evening. The light was really dramatic. I was in two minds whether to use Photoshop to delete the telephone wire but then I thought it added something to the picture.
On the Silverdale road near Stainforth
Ribblesdale at its best
There’s a short, flat, circular walk of just a couple of miles or so around Horton-in-Ribblesdale which takes in one of my favourite sections of the Ribble. At this time of year the tree branches hang low over the water, their vivid green leaves shading the slow moving river from the evening sun.
A fish momentarily popped its head from the clear brown water to catch a midge, causing an elegant ripple – which of course I missed capturing on camera as I sat admiring the tranquil rural scene.
There are some great views of Penyghent to be had across the dale from this short section of the Ribble Way. There’s an abundance of wild flowers in the riverside meadows, and unusual plants I wish I knew the names of growing along the water’s edge.
In a meadow across the other side of the wooden footbridge two children ran freely, laughing as they chased each other along the grassy path, their father following on with an obedient dog. It was a scene straight from one of those middle class books from which teachers taught us to read in the 1950s – idyllic summers, a fresh unblemished countryside, well-dressed, perfectly behaved children… a million miles from my earliest years in a West Riding milltown.
I wondered whether those children in Ribblesdale on Thursday will ever realise how lucky they were right then. At that very moment in France a murderous monster not deserving of the title of human being was starting out on a hideous plan to kill innocent men, women and children no matter what their nationality, colour or faith.
A few Three Peaks finishers were dotted around Horton, sitting discussing their achievement or removing steaming boots. Others were putting up tents or enjoying a pint. Evidence that farmers had been busy lay all around and their neat rows cut of meadow provided a different foreground to Penyghent.
The trickle of traffic through Ribblesdale was brought to a standstill as a flock of sheep were cajoled along the road, noisily bleating their annoyance at being removed from their comfortable surroundings.
Serious Euro debate?
Earlier in the week I overheard a couple of elderly ladies talking while standing at the veg stall in Settle market. “I’ll be glad when they get rid of these silly metric thingies now we’re out of Europe,” said one. I couldn’t tell whether she was jesting or if she had actually voted to leave the EU because she can’t get to grips with metrification. (By the way, ladies, the EU did not ‘force’ metrification on the Brits as some Brexit liars had us believe – but I’m not going on the journey again… in miles or kilometres.) Which brings me to the point of this rant: I picked up a walks pamphlet the other day which gives all the heights in metric and all the distances in imperial; I also came across a driving booklet which gives stopping distances in metric only and speeds in mph only … and then shopkeeper’s wonder why old blokes like me just point at a lump of cheese and ask for ‘a fiver’s worth of that stuff’.
Thistles added a touch of colour by the Ribble yesterday. Below, a family gathering on Langcliffe mill pond last evening.
I’m out and about in Ribblesdale again. Even though I’m not capable of any decent walking yet, I’ve been able to drive round my ‘patch’ a bit more this week. Monday proved to be a surprising day of great contrasts in the Ribblesdale area. Late afternoon I set off on the old road from Settle towards Bentham before turning up to the wild moors of Clapham Common. I wasn’t hopeful of many long-range landscape shots because of distant mist but the bright yellow gorse proved useful along the way.
There was a bit more clarity as I climbed up the Slaidburn road to the grouse-shooting butts near Bowland Knotts. The Three Peaks dominate the northern landscape as you look back across Wenningdale. I tried some hand-held zoom shots and achieved some surprisingly decent results. Note to self: go back here with tripod on a clearer day. The top shot in the blog is of Ribblesdale to Penyghent and one of my all-time favourite views.
Ingleborough and Whernside seen from Clapham Common
Later I took minor roads back to Ingleton and over to Ribblehead where the shadows were strong. Chapel-le-Dale was moody, with just the top of Ingleborough lit up and the viaduct looking shady. Always on the look-out for new ways to shoot the magnificent structure, I reckoned this one might make a change to the norm…
The evening drive back home down Ribblesdale brought some of the most intense light I’d seen all day. I just had to take some stock shots around Horton-in-Ribblesdale. Here’s just a couple.
The previous day I was annoyed at having to turn down an invitation to a book launch at York’s National Railway Museum, so I was determined to try get my sciatica-troubled left leg into shape. About a quarter of a mile up a local track, with no shots in the camera, the leg collapsed and I ended on my knees. Embarrassed and frustrated I turned round and hobbled home. A friend’s suggestion that I could borrow his mother-in-law’s zimmer wasn’t appreciated.
The book I mention is for children and is the third in a series about The Cones, written by Chris Madeley. Her husband Keith, the indomitable ‘Mr Yorkshire’ www.mryorkshire.com provided this photo. Keith tells me he is busy (amongst 1001 other things) being filmed for a ‘Mr Yorkshire’ TV documentary. See more details of the book on my reviews page
Welcome addition to the Dales park
A while back I was a little disappointed that the lovely town of Kirkby Lonsdale wasn’t corralled into the revised Yorkshire Dales National Park. Mustn’t be greedy I suppose. However, most of the landscape seen from the town’s famous ‘Ruskin’s View’ (above), features the Dales side of the river Lune which will lie within the new border. Kirkby’s St Mary’s church – originally Norman but altered and extended greatly down the centuries – and its grounds, which contain a wildlife haven, are a must-see. Other interesting buildings and alleyways abound and there are some lovely shops, pubs and hotels. I’m starting to sound like a tourist guide, sorry, but I do recommend a visit even though it is just beyond the Yorkshire border – no passports required. Conditions weren’t brilliant when I visited this week.
Seeing photos of bluebells and wild garlic on tinterweb over the last few days has made me long even more to get out and wander around the local woods in Ribblesdale. This time last year I was walking from Malham to Gordale and witnessing this glorious sight beside Malham Beck near Janet’s Foss. Wait for me, please!
The car’s air conditioning was useful for all the driving I’ve done this week. But it’s not a modern luxury, as I discovered near Clapham…
I spent a great deal of my working life looking at photographs, deciding which should appear in the publications I worked on. Often the decision was down to the story told by the photo rather than its artistic or technical merits. When all those points were satisfied in one shot the chances were I wouldn’t be able to afford to pay for it. Now I’m retired but I still enjoy looking at photos. The internet provides a wealth of photographic material for me to view (get your minds out of the gutter, please!) but I also love visiting photo exhibitions where the art of printing and presenting also comes into play. On a very wet Wednesday I went to Wensleydale to see a photo exhibition by Selside photographer Hilary Fenten at the Dales Countryside Museum in Hawes. She captures the essence of the Dales extremely well and obviously has a natural talent. Seeing such work helps inspire me with my own photography. The top picture showing Horton Scar Lane tells the story of Thursday – see later on in the blog.
The rain was pouring down in Hawes, as can be seen in this shot of the beck through the town centre.
And back home in Ribblesdale, this shot was taken with a shutter speed of 0.3000s which tells you how quickly the Ribble was traveling over Langcliffe Weir.
While the river was raging like a good un just a few yards away, Langcliffe Mill pond looked serene. Stainforth Scar in the distance had a cloud for a hat almost all day…
Many folk had a fine sunset on Wednesday but a combination of low cloud and fog here created a strange light and the chance to take a direct photo of the sun.
The previous day had seen clear blue skies as I strolled into Settle from Langcliffe via the high path. Grazing on the steep hills is donkey work, but the animal is perfectly developed for such land with its long back legs and neck.
I always think Castleberg rock provides a dramatic welcome to the town centre…
The forecasters predicted the rain would cease on Thursday afternoon so I planned a stroll up Horton Scar Lane from Horton village to see the water pouring into Hull Pot. The main waterfall was a great sight and there were smaller falls seeping out through the sides, making it look like a leaking dam about to burst. However, there wasn’t much of a collection of water in the bottom of this great hole so there must have been plenty of room underground to take it away down the hillside to eventually join the Ribble. I’ve witnessed water up to about halfway up the hole while other people tell me they’ve seen it full. It’s an awesome place and deadly if you are unaware of its presence on a misty day. At 300ft long, 60ft wide and 60ft deep, Hull Pot is thought to be the largest (natural) hole in England – although personally I think that title belongs to London.
I watched the cloud clear to reveal Penyghent but I wasn’t tempted to head up to the top – my excuse being it may well have started to get dark on the way back (honest).
The small wood near Ribblebanks at Langcliffe always puts on its coat of many colours around this time of year and is best seen from the opposite hillside above the railway line. The view over the stoneworks isn’t so pleasant but then this part of Ribblesdale, with all its natural resources, has always been home to industry with quarries, limeworks and mills providing employment for centuries.
Hallowe’en passed by quietly apart from when I was preparing for bed. I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw a grotesque grey-haired old man looking back at me. Where did my youthful looks go?
I might not always see eye to eye with some decisions and policies made by the National Park Authorities, but all in all I think they do a fine and very necessary job of safeguarding our countryside. I’ve certainly never viewed them as being extravagant or a total waste of taxpayer’s money – unlike, say, the House of Lords. (In 2014 the net operating cost of the outdated House of Lords was around £100m while that of the Yorkshire Dales National Park was nearer £4.5m – and not all paid for by the taxpayer.) The National Parks have already suffered massive cuts and are are now faced with even more. Staffing has been slashed by 20 per cent meaning among other things that right-of-way management, visitor facilities, car parking, toilets etc have all been hit. I know there are many other pressing matters to be concerned over, but does this government see the British countryside as just another asset which they can sell off to the highest bidder? The parks have been told to raise more money themselves … we interrupt this Blog for a short advertisement …
———————— The McDonalds Yorkshire Dales National Park
Our walk-through diner on Penyghent now features the famous Barbequed Spare Ribble Platter. At our Dodd Fell branch you’ll find the McWensleydale Cheeseburger and our Snaizeholme McSquirrelnut burger for vegetarians. Our popular Sedburger Club Sandwich with our home-made Hawes Radish Sauce is popular at our Ingleborough branch. The Malham McMuffin with Maple Syrup will delight you at the new Cove Experience outlet. While our exciting Strawberry Strid Milkshake is free with every Wharfedale McWrap bought at our Bolton Abbey franchise located in the former priory. Admission fees apply. The Yorkshire Dales … I’m Loving it.
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I’ve taken more than 250 pictures this week so it’s been a bit tricky narrowing down a selection for the blog. I’ve even ventured slightly outside my normal patch of Ribblesdale into Sleddale, Wensleydale and Clapdale. No wonder I’m feeling a bit jet-lagged today … or maybe that’s more to do with the beer consumed while drowning my sorrows watching the Rugby Union. Rather than base my choice of pictures on technical prowess or prettiness, I tend to go for those which tell a story or remind me of the occasion, so professional photographers please look away now.
Last Sunday I did a lovely circuit from Langcliffe – these trees on the route at Stackhouse (top picture) will look superb in a couple of weeks – towards Feizor then back via Giggleswick Scar (pic of my boots from there pointing to Settle) . There were some terrific views, including Penyghent, Ingleborough, Settle and Stainforth Scar (2nd pic), despite an ever-present distant mist.
Monday I followed the ancient track from Horton to High Birkwith, returning along the surfaced road via Newhouses Tarn and the smart hamlet of Newhouses. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between the clouds and vapour trails and today they mixed to form some interesting patterns in the sky.
I often wonder how many of those hundreds of Three Peakers who charge through this area in a bid to chalk off the mountains, actually stop and take in the extensive views from this side of the valley.
It had been many a year since my last visit to Aysgill Force in Sleddale so on Tuesday I returned to find it in a sedate mood. I recall it gushing like a mini Niagara last time, but today a steady flow, captured here without any clever time-lapse photography, seemed to perfectly match my mood. It was great too to see a red squirrel scurry along a fence – far too quickly for me to capture. Wensleydale looked gently rural, too, and I liked this farmer’s humour …
As if my hair wasn’t grey enough already… heading back down Ribblesdale, near Selside, one farmer was determined to make me look even older.
Scaleber Force also looked laid back in the evening. I’d gone out to capture a sunset from Stockdale but couldn’t resist a quick look at the falls above Settle. Then, looking west from Stockdale, the sun said a colourful farewell. Looking in the other direction, the limestone scars of Warrendale and Attermire took on a warm pink glow.
On Wednesday my intention was to head up to Ingleborough from Clapham. The walk started well as I took the route via Clapdale’s fortified farm (pictured below), part of which dates back to the 13th century. Some of the walls are said to be 5ft thick and built to ward off rampaging Scots. (Before any friends snigger, accusing me of avoiding paying the fee to walk through the estate grounds, I really was genuinely interested in seeing the building, honest.)
However, by the time I got to Gaping Gill having struggled up Trow Gill (below) my knees were giving me such pain that I decided it would be wiser to turn back than have to call out Mountain Rescue further up. The other picture is of an unnamed pot hole close to Gaping Gill looking towards Little Ingleborough.
Thursday morning I struggled to make it downstairs to brew my morning cup of Yorkshire Tea such was the stiffness in my knees. I decided there and then to curtail my walking for a few days, and I looked up the price of a teasmaid on t’ internet. Not on my pension. I did manage to pop out and capture this speckled wood butterfly sunbathing on the house wall and later enjoyed another fine sunset from Winskill.
I was back at Winskill yesterday to see if there was a temperature inversion shot to be taken over Ribblesdale. But it was the heavier stuff – fog drifted in very quickly – the two shots below were taken just five minutes apart. My own fog is beginning to lift now so I might go try out the old knees again today.
One of the great pleasures about having kids AND a camera is that you can store up a great deal of ammunition to be used at a later date for embarrassing or threatening them. Instant access to their friends and family through Facebook means you have everything a parent with an evil streak needs to pass away rainy days. This week I was accused of being cruel to my son for posting a photo of him when he was in a brief punk phase, so I’d like to apologise to him via this week’s blog and promise not to do it again … this week.
Early doors on Monday this horse and I were up enjoying the summer flowers in a field between Langcliffe and Settle, while on Tuesday I had more of a mission. I’d come across an old Victorian drawing of Thorpe, near Burnsall in Wharfedale, and wondered how much it had changed over the years. I called in at Linton on the way and just managed to get a photo of the bridge without any cars in the shot.My last visit to Thorpe was a few years back when I interviewed an artist there for Dalesman. Little has changed since then but that earlier Victorian artist would have noticed several differences. It looks like one of the buildings in his drawing has disappeared now, many houses are now second homes, and large 4-wheel-drive machines cruise the narrow roads in and out of the village as I found to my cost – how come it’s always the smaller car who has to do all the reversing? Bullies.
I walked by the river in Burnsall, a place like Bolton Abbey which I normally steer clear of during the height of summer (I’m a miserable old bugger who doesn’t like crowds). A fly fisherman seemed oblivious to the constant foot traffic along the riverside path, in his own little world, pitting his wits against a fish which more than likely didn’t realise it was taking part in a game. I hope the chap isn’t recognisable as I’d hate him to have told the boss he was at his grandma’s funeral, or his wife that he’ll be late home from work because of an important meeting.
I don’t like grey squirrels – tree rats, taking over our parks and countryside at the expense of the reds – but I admit they can look cute and I spotted this one by the Wharfe, no doubt full from tit-bits fed to it by pub-lunchers at the Red Lion.
The cloud which tends to hang around the Dales had completely broken up by the evening so I drove up Ribblesdale for some stock shots of Penyghent from Horton. Cliches perhaps but they always attract a lot of comment on Facebook and Twitter so people must like them.
On Wednesday the Fellsman train was hauled by Galatea and I watched it trundle across Ribblehead viaduct on its way back to Lancashire. I find it so annoying that these special steam trains can use the line from Blackburn and Clitheroe via Hellifield and Settle but there’s no direct passenger route which would easily link this part of the Dales with Manchester and all points west. With more rail finance cutbacks announced this week no doubt the route will never open in my lifetime, yet the multi-billion HS2 link for the wealthy and London commuters, which will chew up millions of acres of our countryside when built, will no doubt somehow be found the brass.
I paused during Thursday evening’s stroll by the Ribble to look at the ducks. Yeah, big wildlife guru admiring common ducks … but really, when you observe them closely they really are beautiful, colourful birds – especially the mallard (can’t seem to get trains out of my mind at the moment).
When I was buying my cottage, the conveyancing solicitor (an internet company from down south) told me they’d have to state a minor flood risk for insurance purposes because I was within a certain distance from the river. I called him to ask if anyone in the office could read an OS map because if they could they would see that the cottage is actually more than 100 feet higher than the river – ‘brown contour things on the map’ I said sarcastically – and that if the river flooded to this depth then it’s also likely that all of the York Plain, Norfolk and London would also be totally submerged. ‘We have hills in Yorkshire’ I reminded him. I heard nothing else on the matter. Anyway, the point of this rambling is that there is a path from the village down the hill which leads to a mill pond alongside the river. It’s a lovely little spot, full of wildlife and plants. I risked being attacked by biting insects to take a couple of photos on Friday evening. The pond is being gradually taken over by iris pseudacorus which are flowering now. The overflow which heads to the river has little bridge over which the sheep play Billy Goats Gruff to annoy the troll.
I forgot all my cares and worries today as blue skies tempted me into another drive up Ribblesdale. This is a wonderful Dales scene: smoke from Dry Beck farm chimney; the ewe with its new-born lamb, a grand steaming pile of fresh dung and two dozen crows dancing noisily overhead… all against a backdrop of that famous Ribblesdale icon, Penyghent. I carried on past Horton-in-Ribblesdale and parked near Ribblehead Viaduct before taking a short walk to the picturesque Thorns Gill bridge and falls. I hope this is a taste of things to come for spring.
I was greeted by snow, hail, sleet, ice and freezing temperatures as I headed for the top end of Ribblesdale this morning. Your not-so-intrepid blogger made a u-turn at Selside when I realised that my own tyre tracks were the only ones to be seen in either direction. And it’s a little disconcerting when you put your foot on the brake pedal and nothing happens; the car continues on regardless as if it has a mind of its own. You press a little harder on the brake and suddenly you start sliding sideways towards a sturdily-built drystone wall. The bad weather followed me back down the dale but at the front edge of the storm I just managed to capture this shot of St Oswald’s at Horton and one of Penyghent before it became engulfed in cloud. At my age bravado gives way to comfort every time.
The dales donned winter clothes this week. Autumn hues hung around the route of the River Ribble while higher up, snow clung to the hillsides. The Three Peaks all dressed differently on the day I drove round the trio. Penyghent (above) caught a bit of sun and looked streaky and cold, yet inviting. Whernside looked settled and serene, the peak playing peek-a-boo through the clouds. Ingleborough seemed more angry about the whole affair, wrestling with the clouds. I felt an icy reception as I trampled around its foothills looking for a decent photo. We’re not really in winter yet but days like this remind walkers that the dales demand respect at all times.
Regular followers will know I’ve taken many photos of Drybeck Farm here in Ribblesdale. I was pleased to receive this week a calendar produced by Agrii which features one such picture of mine. Proceeds from the calendar go to farming charities.
