Ahh, spring in Upper Ribblesdale. As I write, snow flakes are doing a drunken dance, not knowing which direction to take next. The village looks like a Christmas card, and I have to conjure up a vision of the surrounding hills because they’re shrouded in cloud, or should that be clouded in shroud. Let my photo diary record that this is all the fault of the Russians. They seem to be getting the blame for everything at this moment in history, so why not the weather? I’d best not go all political here. I was around when Russia got it the neck during the Cold War, today I have a war against cold around my neck. Top photo shows Penyghent just before the latest snow Ribblesdale.
I watched some new-born lambs looking distinctly miserable in temperatures that with added wind-chill dipped as low as -12 in Ribblesdale this week.
Langcliffe: rooftops at sunset, and the village ‘green’.
The bathroom needs a lick of paint. Unenthusiastically, I dug out a half-full tin of emulsion and a brush from the cupboard under the stairs. Of course, everything had to be removed from the abyss before I found said items at the back. I took them to the bathroom, wondering if I formally introduced them to the walls, would they strike up an instant rapport and just get on with the job themselves. As I turned to fetch a dust-sheet, sunshine burst through the bathroom window. Within minutes I was driving up Ribblesdale, camera by my side. The tin of paint and brush are still on the bathroom floor, walls remain unpainted. I’m presuming they didn’t form any kind of relationship. Perhaps they just need a little more time to get to know each other better.
A different angle on Whernside from Chapel-le-Dale. In my youth I followed that wall up to the top from Ingleton. What a slog. Thankfully, never again. I can’t imagine what hell the wall builders went through.Badly cropped photo of cows looking over Ribblesdale early in the week.Scaleber Force close-up.Above, and two following photos, a tree theme – early spring in Ribblesdale between Horton and Helwith Bridge.
Yorkshire Dales: 13 new photos here. I can find art that appeals to me almost anywhere I go in the Dales. The top picture is my kind of art – not the calibre of photography, which leaves rather a lot to be desired, but the view; Humans and Nature acting as one to create a beautiful experience. Okay, not to everyone’s taste, I know. But when you take the time to stop and frame a small part of the Dales landscape you can sometimes find a masterpiece. The scene is in Little Stainforth, a couple of miles up the road from my Ribblesdale home.
Art turned out to be a bit of a theme this week. Last Sunday after the deluge I travelled out of Settle to Scaleber Force (pictured above) which was looking and sounding dramatic. Besides taking a few predictable shots of rushing water I closed in for a couple of more artistic shots. I’m getting daring in my old age.
The sky cleared over the Dales the following day, tempting me out for a drive over to Littondale. Penyghent looked a picture and Belted Galloway cattle, looking like escaped pandas, provided an interesting foreground.
Daffodils soaked up the sun in Langcliffe churchyard and on the village green.
In 2010 I represented Dalesman at the opening of the Coldstones Cut sculpture (partly pictured above) near Pateley Bridge. Here, urban meets countryside, tourists meet workers. It’s an unusual space which challenges the senses. I went back there this week for a reminder of this unique piece of Dales art. To the east Nidderdale’s glorious landscape stretched out; burning heather sent smoke across the otherwise clear blue sky. Turning north, Great Whernside carried snow on its shoulders while to the west quarry workers were digging deeper and deeper into the Dales. Looking south the great golf balls of Blubberhouses early warning site were keeping an eye on Mr Trump’s imaginary enemies.
By ‘eck it wor a pull up that ‘ill on mi bike…View of Penyghent from Helwith Bridge in Saturday’s sunshine
During my career I was fortunate to edit Countryman magazine which champions the country’s glorious countryside and rural way of life. I left the magazine in the capable hands of fellow Yorkshireman Mark Whitley, who has this month produced a special issue celebrating Countryman’s 90th anniversary. Free with the magazine is a reproduction of the first issue published back in 1927 – well worth a read. http://www.countrymanmagazine.co.uk
A couple of shots from dusk in Langcliffe, Saturday
Photography took a back seat last week. But I did get chance to scan through the photos I’d taken over the previous 12 months. I’d not realised how many waterfalls I’d snapped while tottering gently around the Dales … or how poor I was at capturing their magic. I don’t usually take a tripod with me so I often struggle to hold the camera steadily enough get pin-sharp images, and my time-lapse stuff is sometimes shaky or over-exposed. I’ll make a late resolution to improve this year. Anyhow, I’m not after any photographic awards – I just want to capture the moment and a memory of all the special places around the Dales. The top photo shows Catrigg Falls, above Stainforth in Ribblesdale.
Clapham FallsScaleber Force, above SettleStainforth Force close-upScaleber from below on a dry dayThe mighty Hardraw Force in WensleydaleA small fall at Ribblehead quarry nature reserveTop fall at Thorns Gill, near RibbleheadThornton Falls at IngletonThree shots of Aysgarth in autumn
Wain Wath Fall, SwaledaleA lively Stainforth Force and packhorse bridgePeaceful Cotter Force, CotterdaleJanet’s Foss, near Gordale Scar
It’s a special time on the Settle-Carlisle line this week as steam-hauled trains take on part of the scheduled passenger timetable for the first time in 50 years. Tornado will be pulling packed carriages between Appleby and Skipton via Settle from 14-16th February – for more details visit http://www.settle-carlisle.co.uk/tag/tornado/
Excellent autumn light tempted me out into the Dales this week. I’ve been happy with the photographic results and, if my Twitter statistics are anything to go by, so have my followers. Then why do I feel a little down at the end of such a productive and enjoyable seven days?
Why? Because it’s becoming more apparent just how much the quality of our rural life is changing and how little the government seems to care about it.
There’s a new kind of industrial revolution going on in the countryside and it’s increasingly noticeable around the edges of the Yorkshire Dales National Park.
Humans have always exploited the countryside. Mills developed around natural water power while lead and coal mines along with stone, slate and limestone quarries have been regular features in the Dales for centuries.
Driving around now I see an ever-increasing number of wind turbines. This week I stopped to view the massive solar power station at Gisburn, where 20,000 panels have been installed across three fields. Many more will follow.
Thousands of solar panels at Gisburn
After bemoaning the fact that fracking had been allowed on the North York Moors a couple of months back, permission for fracking has now been granted down the road in Lancashire… despite the fact that the locals and the council didn’t want it to happen.
Further afield huge agricultural businesses are gobbling up small farms, turning millions of acres into featureless prairies or unnatural meat factories, ruining the countryside’s natural balance, destroying wildlife habitats and forever changing communities.
I live in a Dales village where the local primary school was closed a few years back – now we learn that the lovely school at Horton-in-Ribblesdale is seriously under threat. With it could go the life-blood and future of another rural community. Families will move out and the place will be filled with second-homeowners and holiday cottages. (Don’t get me wrong – those people are most welcome, but it is the community balance I worry about.)
Libraries and other local resources, including municipal parks, are also being abandoned by councils while funds for National Parks are being cut.
Yes, we must always look for solutions to problems concerning provision of food and power, but why must it be at the expense of our quality of life and the destruction of the things many of us hold so dear?
That’s ‘progress’ I’m told. Don’t fret youngsters, old dinosaurs like me will soon be extinct… unfortunately so will much of the countryside.
Talking of extinction, as I was heading home from Gisburn the other day I came across a farmer who was driving along a minor road, presumably next to his farm, in one of those golf-buggy-type-things. He pulled to the side of the road, grabbed his gun and fired it skywards. It was a tad disconcerting but something not to be too surprised at out in the countryside. I didn’t stop to find out what he was firing at, but I do hope it wasn’t a rare bird of prey – there have been too many reports of them being killed this year. That’s another sensitive rural subject concerning songbirds, farming and the hunting-shooting-fishing brigade – but enough ranting for one day… enjoy the photos.
Dales photos from this week
If you can’t sleep try counting the sheep in this photo – hundreds on the hillside in RibblesdaleCows – and a bull – gather at WinskillWatlowes dry valley as the early mist was dispersingAutumn sunshine and path at Langcliffe
Stainforth Scar showing some early autumn tints
Evening light on Ingleborough
Attermire in the afternoon
Ingleborough in the distance, seen from Langcliffe
Scaleber Force
Changing colours by the Ribble
More hints that autumn is upon us at Malham Tarn
I couldn’t go a week without a photo of Penyghent, could I?
A quiet moment on Langcliffe mill pond
I was lucky to have attended a school where outdoor activities were considered important. Many of us took part in the Duke of Edinburgh Awards scheme and learned about being prepared for venturing in to the Dales and on to the fells. Unfortunately, most education authorities won’t/can’t pay for such valuable lessons any more. Last week the Cave Rescue Organisation, based in Clapham, had to search for two men aged 19 and 25 who were attempting the Three Peaks challenge. They had set off on the 24-mile trek up three of Yorkshire’s highest mountains without adequate waterproofs, food, drink or map and compass and had got lost. What amazes me is the fact they were part of a fundraising event. I’m not one of the nanny-state brigade, but surely the organisers should have shown some responsibility and told any inexperienced, inadequately-equipped people that they couldn’t take part? The CRO took around two-and-a-half-hours to track them down. Both suffered nothing more than tiredness and sunburn but it could have been far worse, and we should be thankful the CRO volunteers didn’t miss out on attending a more serious accident elsewhere.
The Folly in Settle, which as mentioned in previous blogs is a favourite building of mine, comes under the spotlight tomorrow night (Monday 20th June). There are big plans for the town’s only Grade 1 listed building, and a drop-in session is being organised (3pm-8pm) so that local people can see what’s planned and also have their own ideas heard. http://www.ncbpt.org.uk/folly/
I’ve been busy this week with some freelance work so haven’t been able to get out in the Dales as much as I would have liked. At this time last year I could find an excuse to unshackle myself from the computer by popping out to photograph one of the regular steam trains which pass nearby. Work on repairing the landslip on the Settle-Carlisle line near Appleby means the specials are not running this summer (note – the passenger service is still running between Leeds and Carlisle – see http://www.settle-carlisle.co.uk/).
An ancient Dales world
After heavy rain in the Dales I’ll often pop over to Scaleber Force, above Settle, to witness what dramatic influence the downpour has had on the waterfalls. This week I thought I’d visit during a dry spell and was surprised at the difference in atmosphere. The busy, noisy chaos of a flooded dell changed to an eerie, dank, primeval scene. For once I could hear birds in the dense greenery; a gentle ‘plop’ of water in a dark corner echoed across stone platforms normally hidden from view by raging water. Instead of staring at foaming white I gazed around lush and verdant vegetation, broken branches and uprooted tree trunks, and peered into dark recesses which I’d not spotted before. A new world to me, but as old as time.
When you’re incapable of yomping over great hills and in need of short, flatish strolls, then the paths and tracks around Austwick and its beck are an ideal place to wander. The bare limestone escarpment of Moughton (top pic in blog) and the intriguing gritstone-erratics scattered across the moor above the village provide fine backdrops. The views from the Feizor road to Settle were good that day, too … Smearsett Scar and Ingleborough both looking stunning.
As I’ve slowed down in life I’ve become more aware of benches. I never realised how useful they were… for resting, contemplating, watching life go by, taking stock and admiring the Dales scenery from. They’re also fine foregrounds or features for photos. Besides the one near Austwick above, these two caught my eye on a local stroll around Langcliffe this week.
A twisted world
My childhood home was in murdered MP Jo Cox’s Batley & Spen constituency where my parents lived all their lives. My early years in that multi-cultural society, where thousands of immigrant families headed to work in the mills (and were paid a pittance by the millowners), laid the foundation for me to respect other cultures and beliefs. Other people with a closed mind, and those with more hatred in their souls, were not so tolerant and some became xenophobes and racists. Unfortunately, intolerance seems to be dominating today’s human world. More caring, thoughtful MPs like Jo Cox – people who fight against social injustice and greed – are rapidly needed, and self-centred, short-sighted bigots need to shake their heads and realise that their ways cannot exist in a civilised society.
My brief outings up and down Ribblesdale this week have been worthwhile – here’s a selection of scenes I’ve captured…
Track near Langcliffe, RibblesdaleForget France – Horton-in-Ribblesdale is the place for footieFloral display, LangcliffeDales meadow near SettleNot many straight lines in the Dales – between Langcliffe and StainforthNo wonder our ancestors believed in fairies at the bottom of the garden – I think it’s bog cottonTwo reflective scenes on the local pond
Old world values
Were she still alive my mum would have been 100 yesterday. I often wonder what she’d have thought of today’s world. I know she would have been bemused at seeing folk walking down the street grasping a plastic cup of coffee in one hand and holding a phone to an ear with the other hand. In her day she would have called to friends across the street inviting them to pop round for a cuppa and a chinwag – much more friendly and intimate.
I was going to end with a referendum rant, but like the politicians I’ve called a halt to campaigning. Instead here’s a beautiful Dales scene to lighten your week…
Scaleber Foss is a lovely location a mile or so above Settle in Ribblesdale on the road to Kirkby Malham. I got caught in a brief hailstorm while there this morning but managed a couple of photos before the soaking. Now, as I look out of my window while typing this blog, fluffy clouds are moving quickly across a pretty blue sky above Scaleber – such is life in the dales. Scaleber Wood is a Woodland Trust property and provides some good walking as well as the series of waterfalls. Foss is an old Norse word for fall and it is said that many Yorkshire words developed from the settling of Scandinavians in the county. I recently discovered that my Y-chromosone male line stems from the oldest tribe to have inhabited Europe (uninspiringly called Haplotype I, mutation M253). They lived in Scandinavia from before the Ice Age, then after the glaciers retreated 15,000 years ago began to spread to the British Isles and elsewhere. So perhaps it was one of my ancestors who brought with him endearing terms such as ‘sithee, eyup and what’s tha laikin at?’.
Ahh, spring in Upper Ribblesdale. As I write, snow flakes are doing a drunken dance, not knowing which direction to take next. The village looks like a Christmas card, and I have to conjure up a vision of the surrounding hills because they’re shrouded in cloud, or should that be clouded in shroud. Let my photo diary record that this is all the fault of the Russians. They seem to be getting the blame for everything at this moment in history, so why not the weather? I’d best not go all political here. I was around when Russia got it the neck during the Cold War, today I have a war against cold around my neck. Top photo shows Penyghent just before the latest snow Ribblesdale.
I watched some new-born lambs looking distinctly miserable in temperatures that with added wind-chill dipped as low as -12 in Ribblesdale this week.
