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: Penyghent
Shame, blame, radar, birds and trains
Last 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.
However, 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.
I 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.
It’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.
With 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.
On 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).
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.
After 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.
Thursday: 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.
Lo 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.
Yesterday 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…
It's all Nature's fault
A major fault led to my best moments this week. I’m talking about the Craven Fault, caused by a prehistoric act of Nature which created some of the country’s most magnificent and intriguing landscapes. A walk following the fault-line from Clapham in the west to Grassington in the east would surely be one of the most spectacular trails in Yorkshire – over to you, trailblazers. I trod two sections this week – the first from near Feizor across to Giggleswick Scar where views down Ribblesdale and the floodplain early evening on Tuesday were exceptional.
On Friday I walked the Settle Loop – part of the Pennine Bridleway – which includes views of the fault-line over Malham and Malham Moor. For me though, the tiny valley of Stockdale provides one of the greatest panoramas. Heading from the Malham direction, the Settle Loop reaches the top of Stockdale and squeezes between the Rye Loaf Hill and the limestone scars of Attermire and Langcliffe. Here Warrendale Knots stand guard on the border between limestone and gritstone, and here the grand sweeping valleys of Ribblesdale and Airedale open up before you. Being there on a warm summer’s day certainly makes you feel glad to be alive.
(That’s not me in the picture – hope you don’t mind whoever you are.) Back to Sunday … after I’d written last week’s blog the day brightened up so I drove to Selside and a nice little photo spot near the start of the track to Alum Pot. Here Penyghent is perfectly framed by the trees which somehow grow from the limestone pavement.
On Monday I strolled from the village up to Winskill to find that one of my favourite pointy-signpost-photo-foregrounds had been switched for a short stumpy little effort. I suppose it helps open up the view a bit but I like signs that have place-names on them. Perhaps the authorities have been instructed to remove all signs containing names because there’s an imminent invasion threat?
I got the rare urge to desert the Dales on Wednesday and use my senior railcard on a trip to York. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the holidaying population of the UK and beyond had decided on the same destination. As you’ll gather, I’m not one for crowds but the experience was bearable thanks to the many attractions of this magnificent little city, and I saw many sights and heard sounds I’d never normally come across back home …
With the sun still having its hat on yesterday I walked up to Castleberg Rock to take a panoramic view of Settle and Giggleswick. I made a very short video with my normal camera – something I’m not very good at, as you’ll see here …
Walls, cavemen, storm clouds, overcrowding and a little bit of luck
I concluded this week that drystone walls make up the greatest man-made structure in the Dales. I’d looked at all other elements such barns, abbeys, viaducts, quaint cottages and posh houses etc and decided that the humble wall reigned in the dales. No fancy drawings by architects, no cement, no GPS help needed — not much more than a hammer, a bit o’ twine and a good eye have created a masterpiece in the landscape. Above is a photo I took on Thursday evening looking south-west from near Winskill showing the waller’s art.
Hobbyist photographers like me need a bit of luck to end up with photos we’re happy with. I just carry a medium quality digital camera around with me and if I something catches my eye I snap away. I often come across photographers who look like they’re setting up an outdoor studio, and who sit around for hours awaiting the perfect conditions — I’m not knocking them; their results are usually fantastic, and if it’s how you earn a living then you need the best possible results. Last Sunday evening I briefly popped out for a breath of air and spotted these two opportunities as threatening clouds drifted over Ribblesdale. Within a few minutes the scene was completely different — such is the luck of the draw in the dales.
Similarly, on Wednesday I was just walking back home over a railway footbridge near Langcliffe when I heard the sound of a steam train approaching and was able to capture this shot with Penyghent in the background.
I had to spend most of Thursday indoors but fortunately by teatime and with the sky clearing I was able to head up to Victoria Cave. I can see why prehistoric tribes made their home here. The views together with the limestone escarpments of Langcliffe and Attermire Scars plus Warrendale Knots make this one of my favourite regions in the dales.
Photos below show the views east and west from near the cave.
Friday had been pretty dismal but I caught a bit more luck in the evening when I visited one of the former quarries at Helwith Bridge. There’s a small one by the main quarry entrance which has been given over to Nature and I’ve been told that around dusk long-eared owls can sometimes be spotted here. I didn’t see one but was lucky enough to capture some late rays of sunshine both on the water and on Penyghent, one shot reminding me of Ayers Rock in Australia – not that I’ve ever been, but you know what I mean.
Spotted this old forgotten road sign yesterday on a stroll down to the river Ribble which as you can see from my photo by Langcliffe Weir was running low.
I don’t usually have much luck with plants so when I stock up pots and baskets in spring I usually include more than enough, presuming some will die. However, this year it seems all the fuschias in my hanging basket have taken and are now complaining of overcrowding.
Steamy memories, upsetting sights, gates and idiot drivers
Why do some drivers hurtle through the Dales like they’re on an audition for a Top Gear presenter slot? I was forced off a narrow lane by two idiots driving shiny new petrol-guzzling Range Rovers one day this week. They were obviously not the local farmers who once again have had to put up warning signs along the lovely road between Stainforth and Halton Gill. It should be obvious to most sensible people that farm stock (and children) wander around the countryside. And the views are fantastic – so why dash through like demented rats?
While not a rat – I’m not sure what it is actually (mink?) – this dead creature in a cage is perched on a wall near Giants Grave beneath Fountains Fell. I’m uncertain what point is being made by leaving it here for all to see. Perhaps someone in the know could enlighten me. It certainly met a gruesome end.
Nearby is something much more pleasant – Nature’s garden, a colourful limestone rockery and stream with Penyghent in the background. No need for a trip to the smoke to see those pretend – or should that be pretentious – gardens at Chelsea.
Kingsdale, where I visited on Wednesday, is short and sweet; a hanging valley swung like a hammock between Whernside and Gragareth. A narrow squiggly road runs beside Kingsdale Beck – a flow of water with a real identity crisis. It quickly assumes the name River Twiss before joining the River Doe at Ingleton; later it forms the Greta and then the Lune at Kirby Lonsdale before heading for the Irish Sea.
A couple of farms are the only signs of human habitation in the dale while four gates on the road between the head of the dale and neighbouring Deepdale help slow down any over-eager motorists. Here I go again… but why would anyone want to speed through this breathtaking countryside?
Leaving the loneliness of Kingsdale behind, the lush greenery of Deepdale opens up before you at the road’s 1570ft summit. I pulled in where a track leads over to Barbondale (a trip for another day) and now the camera goes into overdrive. The contorted Howgills (pictured above) to the west seem to grow with every step up the track. In front of me, Deepdale joins Dentdale on stage and the great mass of Aye Gill Pike provides the dramatic backcloth. The steep slopes of Deepdale Side and Whernside help shelter the scooped-out valley of Deepdale from the strong easterly winds. Farmers are busy making hay while the sun shines (not a euphemism for anything).
‘Must get myself a gate-opening passenger’ (again not a euphemism for anything seedy) I mutter after closing the fourth gate before winding slowly down the narrow road to Cowgill.
There are some interesting ancient bridges down this part of the dale, one near the Sportsman Inn which is in constant need of repair due to persistent misjudgements by motorists (yes, a further moan about them). Another bridge, near the tiny church which is worth a visit, contains a stone plaque which reads:
THIS
BRIDG REPER
ED AT THE
CHARG OF TH
WEST RIDING
D 1702
Either the original stonemason didn’t plan his work properly or later repairs have obscured part of the wording – but we get the gist.
In the late 1950s, early ’60s, along with many other boys, I would stand on a railway bridge and wait for a steam train to pass underneath. We’d get covered in smoke, steam and soot and that would be considered time well spent in the days before girls and t’ internet came along. To evoke those memories I stood on a bridge at Stainforth this week and waited eagerly for The Dalesman train. For any other sad fools like me, visit this link to see my very short video.
https://youtu.be/H4Uc3Cv4CfU
I also managed to capture Galatea near Langcliffe to satisfy those who moaned about not having any train material in last week’s edition of my ‘wot I did on my hols’ summer blog.
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.
Fountains Fell holds no fear today
Managed to drag myself up Fountains Fell early this morning. First time I’d been up the 2000-footer in around 40 years. I needed plenty of photo stops on the way up. The boggy uneven plateau is just as I remembered it; completely inhospitable and dangerous in low cloud or rain but today conditions were near perfect. The summit is a few hundred strides from the Pennine Way as it heads from Malham to Penyghent. The views were good round 360 degrees but it was the sky that caught my eye for this shot taken from the top looking towards Ribblesdale.
Nothing buddha best in the Dales
The western edge of Yorkshire missed out on yesterday’s sunshine and bright blue skies but today more than made up for it. Penyghent and Plover Hill proved picture perfect as I drove along the Silverdale road from Stainforth in Ribblesdale to Halton Gill. There were great views down Littondale and even that boggy lump of Fountains Fell looked inviting. To top it all the setting sun is glorious as I type – and is being lapped up by the buddha statue in my kitchen…
A taste of spring to come in the Dales?
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.
A twist in the tale of a dale
I was in Three Peaks territory this morning but the peaks were nowhere to be seen. This freight train was crossing the viaduct just as I reached Ribblehead and as you can see, the cloud completely obscured the view of Whernside… as well as Ingleborough and Penyghent. I’d hoped to take a Ranulph Fiennes-type walk up to Twisleton Scar and take a photo across Chapel-le-Dale, looking towards Ingleborough but it would have been a waste of time.
Recently I noticed in a magazine – not Dalesman I hasten to add – that Twisleton has been spelled with an additional t after the s. I once let the same incorrect spelling go through to print while I was editor of Dalesman. Consequently I was buried under a deluge of letters from readers eager to point out the error of my ways. The name means ‘farm at the fork of a river’ from Old English words ‘twisla’ and ‘tun’ – in this case where Kingsdale Beck meets the River Greta. And why did I mention the slightly mad Ranulph Fiennes earlier? Because his full Sunday name is Sir Ranulph Twisleton-Wykeham-Fiennes. One of his ancient ancestral lines must have stemmed from the area. Some thought goes into these blogs you know.