How the Dales have changed since 76

During the long, hot summer of 1976 the Yorkshire Dales were my playground. I was 23, fit and energetic and starting to create a career in journalism. Move on some 42 years to another sunny summer, and here I am: overweight, fond of an afternoon doze and I’m a pensioner – but at least the Dales remain my playground.

While idling my time away on the slopes beside Ribblehead Viaduct one day last week, waiting to photograph a steam train crossing the mighty structure, I thought about how the place had changed since the 1970s. Yes, the topography is pretty much as it was back then but the atmosphere is very different.

Today I walked up the track towards Blea Moor alongside people who were wearing flip-flops. The recently extended car parking areas were full to the brim. A group on a sponsored Three Peaks hike ploughed through the sightseers. A small helicopter landed and took off again ten minutes later. A chap tried out his new drone (unsuccessfully).

Two noisy Chinook helicopters made their way over the Dales like annoying flies, circled over the viaduct then headed back over Cam Fell. Flashes from mobile phones greeted their arrival and departure.

I’d arrived to my spot early to find a good uninterrupted view of the viaduct with Ingleborough in the background. Two minutes before the train was due a family of four plus a loose and inquisitive dog plonked themselves right in my sight-line. The Dales were never so in the 1970s, or perhaps in those days it was me who was being the nuisance?

I’ve taken so many photos since my last blog – even a cartload of snaps from a few days in the Scottish Borders around Kirk Yetholm at the end of the Pennine Way – that I’ve had difficulty narrowing down the selection. Anyway, here I share a few. The top pic shows the view from above Buttertubs Pass back towards Ingleborough.

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Shades of brown, looking towards Ingleborough again, this time from Giggleswick Scar. Below, the other direction with Giggleswick School chapel dome above the trees.

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From near the same spot, a sheep shelters from the sun and the view down towards Settle.

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Not sure what happened here.
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In case the previous photo has anything to do with Trump then I’ve sussed out where to head: Hoffmann Kiln, Langcliffe.
Above, church gate decorations in Langcliffe plus two shots up Pike Lane, in the village.

Gargoyles at St Michael’s, Spennithorne near Leyburn.
The Eden Valley seen from the road to Keld.
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Stock shot down Swaledale taken while the grass was still green.
I went to get a shot of a train, well here it is at Ribblehead quarry.

What, no train photos? Fear not, train buffs, I will be putting up special page for you when I get a spare moment. Meanwhile, here’s a moody Ribblehead Station.

I’ll not bore you with my snaps of the Scottish Borders but here’s one from a garden in Yetholm Town … it’s not gnomal, is it?

A fond farewell and those frightful Dales

DalesTravelling through the Yorkshire Dales in 1724 Daniel Defoe got to Settle Bridge. In his diary he wrote: “Looking to the north-west of us we saw nothing but high mountains, which had a terrible aspect and more frightful than any in Monmouthshire or Derbyshire, especially Penigent Hill. So that having no manner of inclination to encounter them, merely for the sake of seeing a few villages and a parcel of wild people, we turned short north-east.”
You’d think that the chap who created such strong characters as Robinson Crusoe and Moll Flanders would have had a bit more about him than to worry about the good folk and the landscape of upper Ribblesdale. Anyway, he missed a treat.

During my own travels up this ‘frightful’ part of the Dales this week, I sat in the shade beneath a beautiful tree showing off its new spring clothes. I listened contentedly to the cackle of water over the pebbles of a low Ribble, and to the chirping of excited birds. Sheep and lambs, cows and calves mingled in a field across the river – there was no human-style dispute over who had the right to graze here.

The smell of wild garlic filled the air, and a small fish popped up briefly to cause a ripple on the shallow water – and surprise a duck and her tiny offsprings who were showing cowardly Defoe-type tendencies. The scene reminded me once again of how lucky I am not to be shackled to some hectic city street or suffering in a war-torn country.

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All the above photos were taken by the Ribble near Langcliffe.
Clouds and steam

As I waited for this week’s Dalesman steam-hauled train to pass over Ribblehead Viaduct I watched wispy clouds floating aimlessly over the Dales. The mass of Whernside, seen in the panorama below, looked glorious in the midday sunshine.

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This week’s Dalesman steam excursion on the Settle-Carlisle line… with Penyghent in the background, on the way up (above) and back down (below).

Farewell for now

I’ve been blogging here every week for more than four years now. That’s well over 3,000 photos of the Dales and goodness knows how many meaningless words. It’s time to give it (and you) a rest. I’ll continue to post photos on social media and, occasionally, on here – and I’ll also update the Yorkshire surnames section of the site once a month. Thanks for taking an interest in the blog – have a great summer. My Twitter feed is @paulinribb

While at my son’s house I asked if I could borrow a newspaper. He said, “We don’t have newspapers any more Dad, get with the times – use my Ipad.”
I’ll tell you what, that annoying fly never knew what hit it!

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St John’s, Langcliffe.

April hues, ewes and awws in the Dales

It’s the end of April, a third of the way through the year – where has time gone? Seems like only yesterday I was thinking about snowdrops not making it through a layer of snow. Now already the daffodils are on their way out and the lambs are growing up. Soon the flower meadows will be bursting with colour here in the Dales. I seem to be getting old very quickly nowadays so my vow is to get out and enjoy the landscape; smell the flowers and listen to the birds as much as possible as spring turns into summer.

I hadn’t much chance to get out with the camera this week but here’s a medley of April photos showing how different the month can be. The first two pictures were taken during ‘this week’ a year apart. (Top near Moughton Scar, the other showing Ingleborough.)

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Warrendale Knotts (above) one evening this week, and Halton Gill (below) last week.

“The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day.
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud come over the sunlit arch,
And wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.”
– Robert Frost, 1926

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Two evening scenes from Horton-in-Ribblesdale taken this week. That’s Penyghent in the background on the shot below.

Do I ever travel ‘abroad’ to take photos, you ask. Well yes, of course – I took these at one of my favourite places outside the Yorkshire Dales: the NE coast around Bamburgh and Lindisfarne. I love the Yorkshire coast too, but the vast skyscapes and the unspoilt Northumberland beaches with their dramatic castles and history take some beating.

So we go to the polls again next week, once more trying to convince ourselves that we live in a democracy; that the ‘will of the people’ will triumph; that our cross on a bit of paper will bring us nearer to the Utopia we crave. Will you vote for a political party, no matter who the candidate might be? Or vote for someone who is actually looking to care for your corner of the country? I’d like to see local council elections stripped of all political labelling and backing; and for council chambers to cease trying to be mini-Houses of Parliament where party policies and in-fighting become more important than actual local issues.

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Typical Dales April: above, Penyghent from the road to Halton Gill from Stainforth in glorious sunshine last week; below, this week Whernside hidden by low cloud as a goods train passes over Ribblehead Viaduct.

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April ewes, ears and awws.

Spectacular Dales show without Ant and Dec

DalesThe Dales shower didn’t bother me; I wasn’t cold. There was no fierce easterly wind biting as it did last week. I stood on Winskill Stones and watched a perfect semi-circle rainbow form above Ribblesdale. There was a dusty mist in the valley, dark streaks of rain drifted into the distance as the shower passed through. A grey veil hid Ingleborough’s flat summit.
The underside of heavy cloud to the west was tinged purple by the glow of a magnificent setting Sun. Just for a few minutes I forgot about problems caused by humans and marvelled at the wonder of a far superior Nature. Too briefly, shades of gold and red filled a stage in the sky. A beautiful Saturday night performance played for the benefit of many but attended by few. And people say they’ll miss Ant & Dec.

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A friend asked me to settle an argument about where the River Ribble starts. I’ve been through this before via the blog, with me spouting some high and mighty claptrap about it never starting or finishing, as it is just rain water which heads to the sea, evaporates and falls again.
Not satisfied with my theory I was told to point to a place on a map. Annoying my pal further I insisted that there isn’t one particular source. There are so many tributaries, some just starting out as trickles of water off the highest fells or from springs dotted around the dale.
I’ve read a dozen books in which the authors have put forward arguments for different ‘sources’. There’s a spot on Cam Fell where water can either go east through Wharfedale or west through Ribblesdale; water from Batty Moss can head off to Morecambe Bay via Chapel-le-Dale or join the Ribble for a longer journey west. From up around Newby Head and surrounding fells, water can head down into Wensleydale to the Ure or find its way via various gills to help form the Ribble. Even the mass of Park Fell and Ingleborough on t’ other side of the dale can lay claim to providing a ‘source’ for the Ribble.
The people at the Ordnance Survey aren’t much help, either. On a Dales map from the mid-1800s (reproduced here) is marked a spring, and beside it is printed ‘Ribble Head’. Later editions of the map don’t include this. In fact, the terms River Ribble and Ribblesdale do not appear on the later versions of the OS map until various water courses have joined forces near Selside.
We ended up agreeing there are bigger things to worry about in life, like whose round it was.

DalesI have a treasured signed copy of Bill Mitchell’s book, Summat & Nowt, which is looking a bit tatty now having been read half a dozen times and referred to on numerous more occasions. I’d already known and worked with Bill for about five years when in 1998 he dropped off copies of that newly published book at the Dalesman office. He liked to pop in to talk of journalistic matters and be reminded what life was like ‘at the coal face’, as he would say.
The book has a chapter called The Long Drag, which is culled from a book he wrote of the same name. It’s a lovely piece on the Settle-Carlisle Railway – not about the intricate technical details the train buffs prefer, or a dry account of its construction and history – but of the characters who brought the line to life. The drivers, signalmen, station masters, tea lady – and a host of other volunteers who dragged the line through its darkest days.
So this week it was a great pleasure to be invited to the unveiling of a plaque at Settle station to commemorate Bill’s contribution to the railway. His son David and daughter Janet gave moving accounts of their dad’s affliction: Settle-Carlilitis. Photo shows David and Janet beside the plaque (yes, it was cold, Janet).

Talking about the Ice age … here’s a good example of how those vertical cracks form and destabilise rock faces (near Ribblehead):

Some more shots taken on a freezing trip around the former quarry at the top of Ribblesdale:

Further into the Dales: I had a quick trip down Widdale into Wensleydale early in the week – stopped to capture snow blowing up Burtersett High Pasture:

Another shot of Ribblehead Viaduct:

 

Ice to see you and paws for thought – 15 dales pics

I suppose I have to talk about this week’s weather here in the Dales. As a nation we’re not very good at dealing with cold winds, snow and ice, are we? Thankfully, there are a lot of individuals who can cope – and not surprisingly they tend to live in the country’s higher, more exposed regions.
I had an early* walk in a blizzard for some emergency tea bags one day and saw that a farmer had been up early* to bring his sheep down off the hills and spread out some hay on a low-lying field for his animals.
(*The difference between my retirement early and a farmer’s early is about five hours.)

Dales hill-farmers knew what was coming and when it would arrive; they were prepared, took action when needed and just got on with dealing with the job without much fuss. On TV I heard someone complaining because he was being restricted to driving at 30mph in his 4×4, and another person moaning about her recycling bin not being emptied. Before I start on a Jonathan Pie-style rant (he’s brilliant, by the way) I’ll move on …

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Battling through a blizzard in search of Yorkshire Tea. Below, I did check to see there was no one asleep on the bench.


My son ‘kindly’ reminded me that I was a child during the bad winter of 1962/3 by asking what it was like in those days. I lived in a town in those days but there were plenty of hills, and I remember the enormous icy slides and much sledging … and scraping ice from the inside of our bedroom windows.
He and I have also being trying to identify paw prints in the snow around our houses. Stray dogs seem to be the most numerous – I say ‘stray’ because I’d hate to think pet owners were chucking out their dogs on such cold nights.

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Left to right: fox, dog, cat, badger.

Photography-wise, I’ve not felt inclined to dig out the car for a drive around the Dales looking for stunning snowy scenes – I’m not sure I can justify that heading into the wilds to take pictures is a ‘life-or-death journey’ (unlike the aforementioned tea-bag catastrophe). But I have managed some local shots …

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Frozen mill pond, Langcliffe
Snow drifts between Langcliffe and Settle
St John’s Langcliffe
Mill pond overflow, leading to the Ribble.
Snow-bound lane from Langcliffe.
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Snow-topped rubble on the Ribble.
Wintry sunset over Langcliffe.

Dales Three Peaks path plea

If you haven’t already seen this, please watch the video here, uploaded by the Dales3Peaks people, and help maintain our paths around the Dales: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcrZftnuhqw&feature=youtu.be

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Two views of Whernside seen earlier in the week. Above, looking over Gauber; below, with Ribblehead Viaduct.

And finally … ice monsters emerging from the depths to slowly climb the memorial in Langcliffe. Don’t have nightmares, folks.

Dales trains, waterfalls, sunsets and kittens

dalesIt’s a pleasure to see a steam-hauled train dashing through the Dales. Here Galatea makes its way off Ribblehead Viaduct on the spectacular Settle-Carlisle line (yesterday evening).  There were just a few remnants of snow on Whernside but looking at the weather forecast it seems like there’s more to come.

DalesI thought it was about time I tried a longer walk this week to see if my injured (ancient) left hip and knee could stand it. Four miles around Ingleton was enough. I took in part of the waterfalls walk and although the lighting was poor I managed to add a few shots to my collection.

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The collection of Dales twilight and sunset shots also grew a little fatter this week. Social media platforms such as Twitter, Facebook and Instagram etc are not really geared up to show subtlety in photographs but I hope, even on phones, you can get some idea of what I was aiming for in these shots taken in Ribblesdale.

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Penyghent under a sunlit cloud.

As mentioned in previous blogs, if I want to clear my head I’ll often drive on the road from Clapham up to Bowland Knotts and have a little saunter around. I love the view over the western Dales but by heck it was cold earlier in the week.

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The other two of the Three Peaks, Whernside and Ingleborough, as seen from Bowland Knotts.
If you look closely all three can be seen in this photo.

If you’ve got a ‘Hi-Dad-hope-you-are-ok-can-you-do-me-a-favour’ offspring then you’ll know that most of what you’ve said to them over the years has probably gone in one ear and straight out of the other without saying the briefest hello to any active brain cells. A few weeks back my son said he’d love a kitten for his new home and I dutifully (and boringly) informed him about all the pitfalls about costs, smells, vets, food costs, leaving it alone while at work, keeping you up at night etc, etc. Last week he got one – of course. I must admit he’s the cutest thing (the cat, not my son) and his picture (the cat, not my son) is now my screensaver. I reckon the cat, who looks very smug, will take as much notice of my son as my son does of me. Photo by William Jackson.

Dales in the twilight hour (11 pics)

Once again the Three Peaks area of the Dales has captured my attention. The whole of the Yorkshire Dales National Park is well within an hour’s drive from home – and I love it all, but the Three Peaks are on my doorstep so I get the chance to see them in all their moods in changing weather and light.

Crepuscular. Yes, you heard me correctly. Crepuscular is my word of the week. It’s a word for the twilight and those rays of sunshine that poke through the clouds. If you’re standing on the right vantage point at the time they appear you can scan around the dales and pick out the places they highlight. I zoomed in from Winskill to catch one on Ingleborough (top photo). Above, the setting sun on Friday.

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Two more shots from the same evening.

Below – lovely to look at but not for the unwary or badly equipped, the Dales trio of Penyghent, Ingleborough and Whernside capped in snow this week:

I like this view of Ribblehead Viaduct (below). Probably not close enough for the train spotters but it helps prove what an achievement it was to build the structure in such an unforgiving landscape.

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Earlier in the week I posted on Twitter a shot taken further down this lane in Langcliffe but looking the other way. Below, frozen quarry pond at Helwith Bridge.

From Dales to Town

Sheep pretending to be rocks – or rocks masquerading as sheep? I’m writing the blog earlier than normal because football is now run by TV companies (bear with me – the dales, sheep, TV and football will all be linked, eventually).

In the past, wool from the ancestors of these Dales sheep would have been transported further down the Pennine chain to the West Riding towns and turned into some of the finest cloth and carpets in the world. Mill owners built their fortunes and mansions off the backs of these sheep and the hard-grafting working class.

However, trade deals struck up with far away countries with even cheaper slave-labour (ring any bells?) virtually brought an end to the industry, bringing about unemployment, the destruction of communities in its manufacturing heartland, as well as the demise of many a farmer’s livelihood in the Dales.

Some of my ancestors headed from the Pennine hill farms for employment in the mill towns, hence my connection with the industrial West Riding. Nowadays I follow the old wool route from the Dales to Huddersfield to watch my football team, who thanks to TV scheduling have been ordered to play at the ridiculous kick-off time of noon on a Sunday. Baa.

Why the Dales are top of the pops

I see that several of my favourite areas of the Dales are featured in the list of Britain’s top 100 walks. Many of the 8,000 people who contributed to the list have walked in my footsteps. It’s good to see the promotion of a healthier lifestyle, and when it benefits local traders, accommodation providers and publicans etc, then so much the better.

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Earlier in the week Ingleborough looked like it had been ‘lime-washed’. The walk from Clapham up to Ingleborough summit features in the top 100 walks list – you wouldn’t have got me up there on this day for all the tea in Yorkshire.

My small gripe about the list is that most of the walks are already popular and the publicity is likely to attract thousands more boots over those same paths. I wonder how many walkers (or TV programme makers for that matter) will be willing to pay for the upkeep of those over-used routes.

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Another of the favourite walks is the Ingleton Falls route. Picture shows Pecca Falls.

Before you have a go at me, I know that in a way my blog and other writing down the years has also contributed to attracting more tramping of the fells – I’m not being hypocritical, I have given (and still give) money towards path repairs and Mountain Rescue charities in the Dales.

https://www.ordnancesurvey.co.uk/getoutside/itvs-britains-100-favourite-walks/

Since slipping on icy steps a few weeks ago and injuring my left hip and knee I’ve not done much strolling, so thank goodness I also have a car to get me around the dales. Top photo in the blog shows Penyghent from near Brackenbottom. To complete the Three Peaks trio here’s a wintry looking Whernside and Ribblehead Viaduct.

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Looking from Horton-in-Ribblesdale across the quarry workings to Ingleborough.

I’m saddened to hear this week of the death of the inspirational Hannah Hauxwell (91). I only met her briefly at some ceremony or other. Being involved with Dalesman at the time I asked if she and her neighbours up in Baldersdale still considered themselves as Yorkshire folk (since the political boundary changes in 1974). Hannah replied firmly that they always thought of themselves as Yorkshire and felt no association with Durham. I hope everyone born on the south side of the Tees still thinks the same. Hannah was a lovely lady unspoilt by all the attention she received.

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I watched the sun go down from the old back road between Clapham and Ingleton on Wednesday. The golden glow belies the fact it was below freezing thanks to a strong westerly wind.

I must add my congratulations to everyone involved with Langcliffe Community Gardens on winning the Greener Craven Award category of Craven Community Champions. A great effort by those neighbours of mine who got involved. Plenty of snowdrops to admire in the local churchyard, too:

The Snowdrop

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid,
Ever as of old time,
Solitary firstling,
Coming in the cold time,
Prophet of the gay time,
Prophet of the May time,
Prophet of the roses,
Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid!

Fans of steam trains make sure you buy a copy of this month’s Countryman magazine (now in the shops) in which I reminisce about the golden age of railways. The Settle-Carlisle and Keighley & Worth Valley lines are included. http://www.countrymanmagazine.co.uk
In February’s Down Your Way magazine I write about the surname Loftus/Lofthouse. http://www.downyourway.co.uk

 

The Dale that Didn’t Die – 15 pics here

daleThis week I had a day in ‘The Dale that Died’ (allegedly) – Grisedale, just off Garsdale on the Yorkshire-Westmorland border. A TV film made in the 1970s and a book by Barry Cockroft labelled it The Dale that Died, but notice of its death was greatly exaggerated. Grisedale – or Grisdale as it used to be called but for some reason it gained an extra e during the 20th century – has not yet had its life support machine switched off.

daleI get the impression that the few people who live or have holiday cottages there would rather we all stayed away from this lonely dale. I don’t blame them – the Dales should have more places where cars and buses and kiss-me-quick-hatted-type tourists can’t venture.

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Blake Mire in the middle distance.

The footpaths across Gris[e]dale’s boggy surrounding hills can be difficult to follow. On several occasions I was ankle deep in gunge while heading over from Garsdale Head to Blake Mire – an ancient farmstead bought a while back but to which only recently were the new owners allowed to build an access track (previously the only way to it was on foot). Wish I could have afforded it.

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Not the most inspiring picture or landscape you’ll ever see – but I include as few people will ever get to view this place as it is so hidden away. Grisedale Beck.

Not quite as isolated is Crummackdale where I ventured on another day, making my way up from the hamlet of Wharfe. I’d wanted to walk along the edge of Moughton Scar to capture the views across the limestone, but the cloudy weather put me off so I just did a circular walk using some of the old drovers’ paths.

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My grey day in Crummackdale. Below is the slab footbridge near the Dub Wash field.

I sat and watched a bird of prey for a while – I’m not going commit myself to saying what it was – probably a sparrowhawk – it didn’t get close enough for me to identify or photograph successfully – but its aerobatic display was impressive.

I had similar weather up in the Lakes on Monday. I’d fancied a drive through Great Langdale to snap the spectacular scenery but cloud came down and it turned out very grey – as it often does up there. I did have an enjoyable touristy-type walk from Elterwater to Skelwith Force though.

It was back home in Ribblesdale, where of course the sun really came out. The views lifted my spirits …

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There was a slight delay in publishing the blog as I waited to include a photo of Flying Scotsman on the Settle-Carlisle line through Ribblesdale. Here it is on Sunday lunchtime near Salt Lake Cottages. Below, Monday’s steam special crosses Ribblehead Viaduct.

I also post a selection of photos during the week on Twitter which are not included here – look up @paulinribb

Clouds, trains, signs and poems in the Dales

Dales Clouds RibblesdaleA mixed bag of Dales weather created photographic allsorts this week. I spent one morning admiring the changing cloud formations as they passed over Ribblesdale. I had a few goes at capturing the steam specials up and down the Settle-Carlisle line (pics at foot of post) – a bit disappointing really. Besides been very late on a couple of occasions, the engine wasn’t giving off much ‘oomph’ coming up the Long Drag from Settle. I tried to get a shot of it passing by the old limeworks at Langcliffe on the return journey from Carlisle but got so carried away taking photos of the Hoffmann kiln (pic below), the train whizzed by before I got to the track – early for a change.

One evening I had a drive over the minor road from Settle to Kirkby Malham, then on to Malham for a walk up to the Cove.

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Not the Dales but a view of Pendle from the Settle-Kirkby Malham road.
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A distant shot of Malham Cove from the same road.

The evening light was strong and the area was sparsely populated apart from some climbers and a few more cheery walkers who prefer Malham after the bulk of tourists have departed this pretty part of the dales. Have you ever noticed just how many notices there are at the entrance to the National Trust fields? I’ve done a montage of just a few of them …

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A fine welcome!

Dales legends

Several years ago I was chatting with Bill Mitchell in Settle town centre when we were interrupted by two elderly ladies – as often happened whenever and wherever you were with Bill. He introduced me to one of them, Edith Carr – well known in these parts. I’d previously read about Edith’s life in the Dales at Capon Hall on Malham Moor, and remembered a lovely story Bill had written in Dalesman about her life at the isolated farm, and the time it was cut off for weeks during a bad winter (1947 I think). Two coincidences this week got me thinking about our meeting in Settle (I wish I’d had a tape recorder that day as it was a cracking conversation between two great characters). I drove past Capon Hall on my way back from taking pictures of Malham Cove. The pleasant evening light was shining on the old building – modernised greatly since Edith’s day but you could still feel the isolation. The previous day I’d been to Langcliffe Church to have a browse through the second-hand books on sale there (always worth a look if you’re passing) and picked up a copy of Edith’s verse, called Cobblestones. She moved to Langcliffe later in her life, where in her words she could ‘still see limestone hills so dear to me’. That line is from one of her poems, The Riverfields. I have strong empathy with the second verse, reproduced here:

A sylvan stream our Ribble here, gliding and bubbling on his way,
O’er moss grown rocks, through banks so steep, where golden catkins
Dangle on the bough of hazel tree and willows tall.
The setting sun glows red o’er all.
A tawny owl begins to call, his sharp talons hold
On twisted branches, gnarled and old.
As watchful bird its vigil keep,
’Tis time for man to take his sleep.
Eventide, the busy day is o’er, shadows deep pass over all.
Peace at last.

I’ll treasure the little book both as a reminder of my brief meeting with her, and the fact it came at a good Yorkshire price of just 50p.

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Selside looking pretty in the sun this week. Never before noticed how much that telephone box leans.
All aboard the Dales train

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And a non-steamer for those who like that kind of thing.
And finally… mushroom omelette anyone?