13 photos. The cackle of a stream over water-worn pebbles; hidden birds striking out perfect notes. The sight and smell of wild garlic; bluebells gently swaying in dappled sunlight. A Dales wood is a delight on such a day. The few people I meet are cheerful; happy to be out and about in this peaceful haven, forgetting the world’s troubles and its greedy fools.
At the start of the week I was contemplating changing the name of my blog to Scribble by the Pebbles, such was the lack of water in the Ribble and elsewhere in the Dales. Many stretches of the riverbed near my home could easily be walked across which is very unusual as this is an area where water has traditionally been collected for meadows and powering mills.
One day I popped over to Wensleydale to see how low Semerwater was looking. The two large boulders by the car park (top pic) were totally exposed. I took photos of the naked rocks for posterity. In fact, I got a bit carried away with camera clicking this week and had a job whittling down the choice for the blog so I’ll let the pics do most of the talking.
No water heading over Langcliffe weir earlier this weekThe millpond provided sanctuary for this familyOutbreak of wild garlic at Langcliffe
Bluebells and ramsons basking in the sun by the Ribble
Looking down on SemerwaterBainbridge in Wensleydale
Time to top up the tan in the Dales
Looking across the meadows towards Malham Cove on a walk to Gordale
Standard Dales shot of Gordale Scar. I posted more on Twitter and Facebook earlier in the week.
I find it hard to get the exposure right when inside steep-sided Gordale which is usually in strong shadow. Again, the waterfall was nobbut a trickle.Sawley Abbey lies beside the Ribble on the traditional Yorkshire-Lancashire border. The monks at Sawley owned the land around Langcliffe and Giggleswick for around 400 years.Stone carvings at Sawley Abbey, done a almost 1,000 years ago – I wonder if my blogs will still be hanging around the Dales in 3017?
Malham is nobbut five miles from home but sometimes you’d think they were a thousand miles apart. One morning last week I looked out of my window at a lovely blue sky and thought it’ll be a grand day for photography and a stroll around the limestone features of Malhamdale. Wrong. Less than two miles up the road out of Ribblesdale I could see a great grey mass of cloud shrouding the scene to the east. Ah well, I managed one or two decent shots, and some lent themselves to black-and-whites. Forget the cove, isn’t the top photo one of the most recognisable and memorable shots of Malham? I remember going in that shop over 50 years ago.
Regular Malham visitors will have strolled to Gordale Scar via the field paths by the beck and through Janet’s Foss Wood. I once again visited the wood, which later in the year contains a fantastic display of wild garlic but sadly no snowdrops here yet. I was pleased to see that the Bee Library survives. In 2013 twelve book-nests were created for solitary bees. The books all have a bee theme and have been transformed into nests in ash trees (in recognition of ash die-back disease). The library at Janet’s Foss was the fifth to be created and the first in a National Park. It is dedicated to Ken Pickles, author of Beekeeping in Wharfedale, who became allergic to his own heather honey following the Chernobyl disaster. Read more of the Malham story here http://www.the-bee-bole.com
One of the books in the bee library
It was sad to hear of the death of Ken Morrison this week. I don’t want to give the impression that I regularly rub shoulders with the country’s self-made millionaires but I met Ken a couple of times at awards functions when I edited Dalesman – and instantly liked him. A gentleman, unpretentious and generous. Obviously I never worked for him and can only guess at what kind of a boss he was. I imagine he led by setting a good example. I doubt that Ken would ever have believed he could take his business methods onto the political stage and become a country’s leader like one trumped up egocentric bigot I could think of.
Janet’s FossYou won’t see the detail if you’re viewing on a phone or small tablet but this was the stunning scene on my journey back from Malham
This isn’t the crispest shot I’ve ever taken – a hand-held zoom in poor light – but a beautiful reminder of exactly what I saw as I drove along the Settle to Malham road in the Dales before people began to fill up the day. The photo was taken at 5.45am on Friday near the brow of the pass between Ribblesdale and Malhamdale. The temperature gauge in the car read -1 deg. Facing me, a glorious blood-orange horizon with a tiny strip of the tarn sparkling out of the gloom. I motored on and stopped at the tarn to watch the sunrise.
Gradually the colour of the surrounding hills began to redden. Although the tarn remained shaded from the rising sun for a while, the water weakly reflected the hue of the transforming hillsides; the lake was still and cold. The peaty ground crunched gently as I walked around the tarn’s edge. The previous day’s puddles wore a thin veil of ice.
A curlew called and a pair of peewits were up, whirring about above my head. Four geese in an unruly line barked like dogs, their conversation echoing round the natural bowl as if in an empty swimming pool. There was a faint rustling then a flash of colour as a grouse scuttled off just two yards from my feet. A nervous lone rabbit scanned the scene before hopping it. In the adjoining field a group of sheep remained seated on their warm patches of moor, chewing and wondering whether it was time to get up. Black silhouettes of cattle stood on a dark distant hill like a hastily arranged background for a school play.
Suddenly, the bright new sun popped up from behind a thicket on the horizon. I couldn’t look at it without damaging my eyes but I pointed the camera in the general direction and hoped for the best. Once again the Sun had successfully made its way up Mastiles Lane from Wharfedale and was about to head over the hill to Ribblesdale.
I left the dreamy scene and drove slowly back towards Langcliffe, watching the dales country waking up as the sun followed me home, first lighting up the eastern side of Penyghent and Plover Hill.
The higher slopes of the distant Ingleborough were next to be illuminated, then the western slopes of Ribblesdale: Little Stainforth, Smearsett Scar. Giggleswick Scar swapped a miserable grey coat for a nice creamy number.
I’ve taken many shots of the setting sun from Winskill Stones but this young light is very different – harsher. Now, in spring, each day the sun shines here the scene becomes greener and fresher.
Is the sunrise better than the sunset in the dales? From a photographic point of view I have no preference – they’re just different. Philosophically, is the birth of a new day with its promises and hopes preferable to the death of the day which may have brought us joy and good memories, or perhaps stress and sadness? Sunrise every time for me this time. What do you think? Below is a sunset photo of Ribblesdale taken last week.
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Since semi-retirement I’ve changed my sleeping habits by going to bed and also rising later than I used to. On work days I would regularly roll out of my pit at 6am – I think it stems back to early teenage years …Dad got up at 5am to go to t’ mill, and he would wake me so I could do my morning paper round before school. Perhaps we should all wake up at dawn, shake hands with the Sun and say ‘thanks for providing another day’.
Folly exhibitions
I visited one of my favourite buildings, The Folly in Settle this week to see the two latest exhibitions. Many locals were there talking to each other about how the town used to be. The ‘Back in Settle’ exhibition is a collection of old photos from the area inspired by a Facebook group set up by Mick Harrison https://www.facebook.com/groups/backinsettle/
‘1916: Chronicles of Courage’ is the third in The Folly’s series of World War One exhibitions and highlights the part local dales people played in the war. Not long ago I researched the part my own family played in the war. This large bronze medallion – a Dead Man’s Penny, as they were known – was given in honour of one of my granddad’s brothers (he didn’t have a wife or any children) and it is now in my possession. There were more than 1,355,000 plaques issued – a sobering thought.
For more details of the exhibitions visit http://www.ncbpt.org.uk/folly/
Dales weather
Yesterday morning I was admiring the pink blossom sprouting on a neighbour’s tree under a warm blue sky; in the evening I witnessed some very sad daffodils, their heads hanging low under the weight of heavy snow. That’s dales weather for you.
13 photos. The cackle of a stream over water-worn pebbles; hidden birds striking out perfect notes. The sight and smell of wild garlic; bluebells gently swaying in dappled sunlight. A Dales wood is a delight on such a day. The few people I meet are cheerful; happy to be out and about in this peaceful haven, forgetting the world’s troubles and its greedy fools.
