Tag: Three Peaks

Ribblesdale, Lambs, Goths & Romans

 

ribblesdale st leonarda

One grey day this week I motored up Ribblesdale and stopped off at St Leonard’s in Chapel-le-Dale. I’d made a mental note to return to see the snowdrops in the churchyard and on neighbouring land. Snowdrops here are usually a little behind those elsewhere but my timing was perfect. The beck had totally disappeared underground, and the moss-covered limestone and walls hereabouts created an other-worldly feel.

ribblesdale snowdrops
The little chapel’s entrance faces mighty Ingleborough as if in defiance. Its graveyard spills over into nearby land having had to cope with the deaths of more 200 souls who worked on Ribblehead Viaduct between 1869-76. The building mostly dates to the late 17th century although some parts are older. A chapel of ease (built for the local community who found it difficult to travel the eight miles or so to Bentham) is recorded as being here from the late 16th century. There are 18th century alterations and it was restored in 1869. The chapel wasn’t know as St Leonard’s until the 1940s.

ribblesdale roman

I took the narrow former Roman road down into Ingleton. You hope not to meet anything large coming the other way. Alas… living in the Dales you get used to reversing a quarter of a mile. There are very few places to stop and admire the scenery and interesting topography but I recommend a walk along this part of the dale and on nearby footpaths which run alongside Twisleton Scar. Ingleborough always looks impressive from this angle. Good to see the tea van back at at Ribblehead. I only live a few minutes down Ribblesdale but always enjoy a cuppa while staring at the Three Peaks.

Ribblesdale lambs

On Sunday I was still celebrating Huddersfield Town’s 4-1 mauling of Leeds United the previous day. All I captured on a short walk on a grey day were some lambs. The internet is a funny old world. Some people say it reflects the real world – I don’t, but that’s a discussion for a late night when too much booze has been drunk. Sometimes I post what I consider to be a stunning landscape photo on Twitter or a Facebook group and it creates a ripple of appreciation. This week I offered a simple, quickly snapped photo of a lamb with its mother and it prompted a tsunami of responses. Hundreds of internetters leapt for their like buttons and emojis and exclamation marks. They wrote gooey sentiments or humorous lines about mint sauce. I had to turn off the pinging alert on the computer. When I edited magazines I learned that the number one rule is to give the readers what they want – not what you, the editor, wants. If you don’t supply the right material then your regular readers will not continue to buy the magazine. I don’t have to satisfy accountants or directors now, however. I can post whatever I want (if the internet masters deem it appropriate) and if viewers don’t like what I post they can just move on. Not everyone feels able to move on quietly; some have an urge to voice their opinion no matter how crass, petty or vindictive it makes them sound. So, in the hope of satisfying my readers, here is a brief collection of lamb pictures. Coo away…

lambsribble lamb lambssunribblesdale lambs

I was in Harrogate on Monday for the funeral of my sister’s husband Frank who was a lovely man and will be sorely missed by all the family. Everything went well apart from dreadful traffic all around the town. Will Harrogate’s road problem ever be sorted I wonder. Billions is to be wasted on shaving a few minutes off train journeys to London through High Speed rail, when for far less money local rail services could be improved easily to entice more people off the roads. I heard later in the week that the X75 bus service between Skipton and Harrogate has been halted because accountants say it is no longer viable, mainly due to government subsidy cuts. Once again the elderly, the young and the lower paid will be the ones to suffer most of all, while motorists continue to pollute and clog up the roads. Harrogate came out tops in the north-east section Sunday Times Best Places To Live guide (call me cynical if you like, but maybe it came out tops because more people read the Sunday Times in Harrogate than, say, Cleckheaton?). Anyhow, road congestion apart, it is a lovely place (so is Cleckheaton) – the flower displays were fabulous and weeks ahead of those in my part of the world in the Dales.

ribblesdale cat

The cat and I both felt a little down about not being able to get outside due to some miserable midweek weather in Ribblesdale.

ribblesdale eldroth

ribblesdale trig

The weather picked up eventually and I got away from the Good Friday crowds with a morning stroll around the Eldroth area. The name Eldroth conjours up a sense of the Gothic – but it actually means ‘alder hill’ from Norse words elri + hofuth. It was recorded as Ellerhowyth in 1383. Here, west of the Craven fault line the millstone grit takes over from limestone. Rolling drumlins hide dozens of farms from view. Ancient paths and tracks join them all together like veins, criss-crossing the landscape in all directions. Farmstead names tell their own stories… Rigghead, Black Bank, Ravenshaw, Butterfield Gap, Howith and Accerhill Hall are just a few. I pass through King’s Gate to a hidden trig point at a height of just 207m.

ribblesdale butterfield

For sale

There’s an old quarry near Eldroth where an abandoned vehicle of some kind is parked far from the nearest road. FOR SALE: one careful owner. Genuine mileage. Needs some minor attention.

ribblesdale old car

Blimey, a quarter of the year’s gone already. Ribblesdale, and especially Settle, is gearing up (pardon the pun, given the impending cycle race) for a very busy season. http://www.visitsettle.co.uk/whats-on.html has details, as do several other sites.

Ingleborough: peak viewing

Ingleborough2

Ingleborough is once again the focus of my blog this week although it didn’t set out that way… A bit like the myths surrounding Giggleswick’s Ebbing & Flowing Well (mentioned in my blog of 06/03/16) the legend of Robin Hood’s Mill, just a couple of miles away, arose because of the area’s geology. Just off the Stackhouse road from Little Stainforth to Giggleswick, near the parish boundary, there is a hollow which according to local folklore was the site of Robin Hood’s Mill. The tale goes that Robin was a miller who worked all hours and even on Sundays. As a penance for working on the Sabbath, the weight of his clanking machinery sank further and further into the ground until it completely disappeared from sight. It was said that if you put your ear to the ground, you could still hear the millstones grinding deep below. Before the last war, cavers explored the hole and also heard the rumbling sound. Afterwards, the noise seemed to stop; it is likely that the noise was gurgling water and that the cavers’ excavations merely created more of a sound barrier.

ingleborough 4

ingleborough3

These photos were taken close to the ‘mill’ last Sabbath while I was out working on photographing my patch – I wonder what fate awaits me.

Ingleborough1

The snow was still laying deep on the higher hills as I walked into Settle on Monday from Langcliffe. White-topped Ingleborough contrasted starkly against the greener lower dale.

ingleborough 5

The donkeys in a field above Settle are becoming local celebrities with many walkers heading up the steep gradient from Constitution Hill on the Malham trail using the sight of the animals as an excuse to stop and draw breath. They were sunning themselves against the wall. My comments on twitter and Facebook brought in hundreds of likes and retweets:
‘You see, young un, this is why we have front legs shorter than those at the back,’ says the top donkey.
‘But Mum, when I want to warm t’other side I fall over,’ replies the youngster.

ingleborough donkeys

On a clear day…

Later in the day I drove to Tatham Fells and then on to Kingsdale (first pic in blog) to view the majestic Ingleborough from other angles. The panorama from the Great Stone of Fourstones, just above Bentham, was the clearest I can recall seeing. The Three Peaks and Gragareth looked splendid but such was the clarity that the Lakeland Fells seemed within touching distance.

ingleborough lakefells

ingleborough 6

Back down in Ribblesdale I couldn’t stop myself taking yet another photo or two around St Oswald’s in Horton.

ingleborough 7pyg

More dramatic

After a couple of days stuck mainly indoors I headed up to Ribblehead Quarry to stroll around part of the Ingleborough National Nature Reserve. Yet another angle on Ingleborough showed some melting of the snow had taken place but you certainly wouldn’t describe it as spring-like! Whernside and Penyghent weren’t to be ignored, of course; the limestone pavement and quarry rocks provided interesting foregrounds.

ingleborough whernside

ingleborough 8

ingleborough penyghent

New life

The deaths this week of a former work colleague, followed by a cherished family member, has left me somewhat deflated. I was cheered a little by the sight of new life though in the local fields where lambs gambolled without a care in the world. So many new things to discover and adventures to be had. Oh to have that innocence of youth again. The lamb on the right reminds me of my own childhood – my mum was always having to sew knee patches on my trouser legs, too!

ingleborough lambs

Seeing red (and black-and-white) in Ribblesdale

Ribblesdale - postbox1

Funny how we take everyday things for granted. Postboxes for example. On my regular Ribblesdale stroll this week I noticed snowdrops growing by a postbox — and have to admit that until I’d seen both snowdrops and postbox together I’d not taken much notice of that bright red metal thing. It got me thinking about other postboxes around the Dales. I hunted through my photo archive for some more examples … and found these in Chapel-le-dale, Langstrothdale (above) and Mallerstang.ribblesdale postbox2

Ribblesdale postbox3ribblesdale postbox4If you know of any postboxes in picturesque Dales locations let me know – I might do a bit of ‘collecting’ myself. Apparently there is such a thing as the Letter Box Study Group www.lbsg.org with a website and more than 600 members. I shan’t be joining, but surely taking photos of postboxes is more acceptable than searching the country to capture gas holders? I read this week about one chap who has this as a hobby. His pastime came to the notice of the newspapers when it was decided that the famous gas holder beside the Oval cricket ground in London (yes, non-cricket fans, it really is famous) is to be saved from demolition because it is seen as some kind of icon. Historic England adds: ‘…but our other beautiful gas holders are going’ [to be demolished]. Beautiful? Come on! Seems it is acceptable to churn up hundreds of miles of priceless countryside for the pointless HS2 railway, and to allow our green and pleasant land to be fracked up to kingdom come, but not to knock down a rusting, useless gas holder? It’s a mad, mad world.

Ribblesdale sunsets

ribblesdale sunset1

Took my first sunset shots of the year last Sunday up on Winskill Stones in Ribblesdale. The late evening sunshine lit up the limestone and also the distant western side of Penyghent. The last few minutes before the sun disappeared over Lancashire provided some startlingly vivid colours.

ribblesdale sunset2

The following time-lapse shots are a bit arty-farty for me, I know, but I display them only to show the speed of the water at Stainforth Foss on Tuesday following heavy overnight and morning rain in Ribblesdale. The shutter speed is set at just one-fifth of a second which tells you much about the volume and speed of the water passing in front of my camera lens. If you’d like to join me for a couple of minutes at the popular spot you can see a video here https://youtu.be/Agba6D6Txvg Excuse the quality — it’s taken on my normal camera not a video camera, and I was being buffeted by a strong wind.

foss2

foss1

stjohn

langsnowAfter the rain came Wednesday’s snow. The village (Langcliffe) took on a different persona — cosier, somehow. The photo of St John’s church (above) looks like a black-and-white, but it isn’t. And despite seeing them a thousand times before, I just had to take a trip further up Ribblesdale to see how the Three Peaks were looking in the snow – and they didn’t disappoint.

sledingle

whernsnow

pygmarch

This week I’ve had to endure one of life’s greatest hardships. It’s not been easy for me, especially living on my own. Having no kids or partner around to help out has been a total nightmare. Yes, the TV remote broke. Getting up to manually change channels or just to turn the damn thing on and off has left me exhausted and frustrated. Must be the batteries (the remote’s, not mine) I thought, so off I trotted in the snow in search of power. Alas, new batteries didn’t solve the problem. So, another trip to town for a replacement zapper — no one had anything suitable for my TV. Amazon it was then. Three days delivery they said. Aargh! Just how did folk manage before remote controllers?

thornsold

Regular readers will know of my fondness for the deserted Ribblesdale hamlet of Thorns (pictured above), just a mile or so from Ribblehead Viaduct. Thorns was an important location on a former packhorse route. Records of the settlement I often visit for quiet contemplation, date back to 1190, when it belonged to Furness Abbey. Wills, parish records and censuses indicate that there were five tenements in 1538, three households in 1841, and one uninhabited dwelling in 1891. Those stats are courtesy of the charity Yorkshire Dales Millennium Trust (YDMT) which this week announced it was looking for budding archaeologists to take part in an archaeological survey of Thorns. Visit the website www.ydmt.org for more information.

Yesterday was my birthday. It’s the 63rd time this as occurred so I’m used to birthdays and I don’t take much notice of them now. However, I must admit I was a bit taken aback when I read that a birthday flypast tribute by the Red Arrows had been arranged. How pleasing too that my big day was also the 80th birthday of the Spitfire and I could share my special display with that great invention.

Ribble Rant

The village school closed back in 2007. It was sold six years later for £230,000 and remains unoccupied, the new owners’ plans being refused permission by the National Park. I’ve often wondered who pocketed the money and what was done with it. What I do know for certain is that some accountant somewhere declared that the school as an education establishment was ‘economically unviable’ and shut it down. Its closure certainly wouldn’t have been decided by locals or teaching staff. Village schools help keep dales communities together – but that’s not something an accountant working on behalf of government can quantify in monetary terms so it is ignored.
I know a lot of teachers – or more precisely ex-teachers (many of them jumping ship as soon as their pensions would allow them to do so) – and I’m probably more sympathetic to the plight of teachers and how the education system is being run than a lot of the general public. I attended teacher training college before finding an opening in journalism and I was married to a teacher for many years. So I’ve kept an eye on education matters – as we all should, really … after all, this is the country’s and our children’s/grandchildren’s future we’re talking about.
The problems and solutions are far too numerous and complex for me to go into in depth here. But I will say that I wish politicians would just leave alone something about which they know and understand very little. Many of them attended expensive private schools which bear no co-relation with the education of the masses. Most have no idea about the everyday life of teaching a class or running a school, yet ministers (and accountants) decide the rules and regulations by which our children are educated. I have the feeling that government would prefer if teachers just brainwashed children so that they don’t have any individual thoughts, or think creatively or question their elders.

One of my singer/songwriter heroes is Tom Paxton, and this week I listened again to one of his songs from the 1960s, called ‘What did you learn in school today, dear little boy of mine?’. The verses, although based on the USA at the time, could well ring true today in this country and elsewhere. Here are some of the words which his little boy said in response to the question:
…
I learned that Washington never told a lie.
I learned that soldiers seldom die.
I learned that everybody’s free.
And that’s what the teacher said to me.
…
I learned that policemen are my friends.
I learned that justice never ends.
I learned that murderers die for their crimes.
Even if we make a mistake sometimes.
…
I learned our government must be strong.
It’s always right and never wrong.
Our leaders are the finest men.
And we elect them again and again.
…
I learned that war is not so bad.
I learned of the great ones we have had.
We fought in Germany and in France.
And some day I might get my chance.

That’s what I learned in school today.

Hidden Ribblesdale, bridging north-south divide, dales immigration issues

Ribblesdale viaduct

Ribblesdale calls me… having been tied up with other matters, and also due to yet more poor weather, I’ve not been able to take the camera for a walk much this week. But on Tuesday I wrapped up well for a trip to the head of the dale. The Three Peaks were all hidden under their cloud-caps, but the sun did make a brief appearance to light up Chapel-le-Dale. Ribblehead viaduct looked majestic against the backcloth of an ever-changing, moody sky. It would have made the perfect setting for a TV drama … (I didn’t see it – some folk tell me I didn’t miss much).

ribblesdale whernside

Hidden Whernside

Doing the Boot-Boots Hop

While I was parked at Ribblehead, scoffing the chocolates I’d stuffed in my pocket from a seemingly endless bag received at Christmas, I laughed to myself as I watched a couple who had parked next to me doing the Boot-Boots Hop. That’s the name I give to that silly little dance attempted by walkers who open the boot of their car and try to don their walking boots. We’ve all done it: hopping, balancing, gripping on to our walking partner or to some section of car so as not to get wet feet or pick up grit under your socks (which becomes a constant nightmare as you walk – do you, like me, shake your foot about like someone with a nervous tick to try shift that tiny annoying piece of grit until finally, half an hour later, give in and take off your boot to eject the blithering thing?). Worse still, the Boot-Boots Hopper slips down the slope because when they backed into the parking spot they ended up too close to a ditch. I hope the couple didn’t see me smirking.

Bridge over the Thames

You might, like me, not be too interested in what Boris and his cronies are up to in London. Well, while we in the north are struggling to get round the place because of damaged and collapsing bridges due to flooding, in the capital they’re well on with planning the ‘London Garden Bridge’. This will be a pleasant not-so-little bridge spanning the Thames, dressed up like something from Chelsea Flower Show. The website https://www.gardenbridge.london states it will cost £175m to deliver the project. Around 65% of the capital costs to build the bridge will be fundraised from the private sector. More than £145 million has been pledged already and there is a business plan to cover the £2 million annual maintenance and operations costs. Transport for London and the Government have together contributed £60 million in total. It’s unbelievable that more than £200m can be whipped up for such a vanity project.

ribblesdale thames

This is a Yorkshire bridge over the Thames in Giggleswick – before anyone writes in and says this is the Tems, not the Thames, I direct you to early Ordnance Survey maps which clearly states the latter spelling. Perhaps someone in London later thought Giggleswick was getting a bit too big for its boots and ordered a spelling change.

ribblesdale chapel

I bought a small pamphlet/book about Giggleswick from those doyens of Ribblesdale history, Phil and Rita Hudson of Settle – a very interesting guide to the ancient township. It contains a walk around the village and details of some fascinating architectural features. On Wednesday I did the walk and added an extra mile or so. On this view of Settle’s situation in Ribblesdale you can see the rooftops of the houses sitting snugly beneath the massive limestone scars, with Castleberg Rock in the middle right. The school chapel, which took four years to build and was opened in 1901, dominates Giggleswick’s skyline from many a different angle.

ribblesdale settle

On Friday, snow hit Ribblesdale from Selside northwards and on higher ground. Penyghent was shrouded in cloud for most of the day but I just grabbed this shot from Winskill Stones in the late afternoon as it briefly emerged:

ribblesdale penyghent

Ribblesdale immigration issues

A few years ago, for an article I was writing about family history, I had my DNA tested. Turns out I’m descended from an immigrant, probably from somewhere in Scandinavia. I have a ‘mutation’ (I know, you already thought that) in my genes which developed thousands of years ago and is found mainly in people from Denmark and in Sweden at frequencies above 30% of the population in those countries. In England this mutation is found in 15% of the population and is most prevalent in northerners. It is possible that my lot hired a longboat about 1600 years ago, and on seeing Yorkshire thought ‘that’ll do’ and decided to set up home here. I drift down this line of thought after being challenged by a Wensleydale chap last week who on hearing me speak said, “Tha’s net fro’ rahnd ’ere, es ta?”
I told him I was born in the Heavy Woollen district of Yorkshire but had lived most of my life around the Craven and Ribblesdale areas. “Thowt so,” he said dismissively. I felt a bit miffed – is Yorkshire such a big place, I thought, that I’m considered a foreigner in my own back yard? I now wonder whether had I told him my male line in Yorkshire goes back to at least 400AD, and perhaps earlier, that he would have been more accepting? Anyway, I bet he was descended from some marauding Scot.

Footnote: when I scribbled a couple of weeks ago about the poor quality of country and wildlife TV programmes, I most certainly wasn’t including anything by David Attenborough. Watching in wonder and listening to the 89-year-old talk with such authority in his Great Barrier Reef series this week reminded me of how spoilt people of my age are to have grown up with such a wonderful ‘teacher’ and presenter.

Dales images 2015, fracking hell, litter louts, curlews calling

dales images viaduct
I wrapped up warm and headed for the the head of Ribblesdale on Sunday to see what the snow was like and hopefully capture some more Dales images. Obviously, the top photo was not taken last weekend, but I just couldn’t bide having yet another grey-sky shot to kick off the blog. To greet me at the gate of Ingleborough National Nature Reserve was a large brown bag from McDonalds left by some inconsiderate half-wit. It included containers of partly-eaten food. The nearest outlet is more than 30 miles away from Ribblehead, and I wondered just how many bins the moron passed on his/her way to the beauty spot. I put the rubbish in my car boot, took it home and binned it – not too difficult a task – but I certainly wasn’t ‘loving it’. Ice and a cold wind didn’t lighten my mood but at least I didn’t encounter any rain – for at least an hour or so.

dales images icyquarry

A few outdoor types also leave evidence of their presence in the Dales. I read this week on www.grough.co.uk that a group put together by Kuta Outdoors bagged 16 sacks of rubbish on a clean-up around the Yorkshire Three Peaks route. Kuta Outdoors, who take groups along the Three Peaks routes several times a year, organised the litter pick with people who had walked alongside the company in the past raising money for various charities. Company owner Phil Lee said: “If everyone who comes to the Three Peaks picked up a bit of litter when they saw it, the peaks would stay clean all season.” Well done Phil and the litter-pickers but you really shouldn’t have to do this.

Curlew calling for help

The call of the curlew comforts me. It’s one of the signposts that reminds me I’m tramping the Yorkshire moors. I listen and watch out for the bird from April as it nests around here, and I’ve been known to follow the Ribble to dales images curlewMorecambe, where it spends the winter, to watch it paddling about in the bay. Sadly, the curlew is now on the RSPB’s ‘Red List’ of endangered species www.rspb.org.uk  They say the problem is caused by changes in upland management and increased predation. Nature is so finely balanced. Too often we forget we’re not the only species on Earth. I snatched this photo of a curlew as it carried out a fly-past over my head while I was walking between Helwith Bridge and Silverdale earlier this year.

images ribbscar

Trees please

I won’t be sending Christmas cards this year. Instead I’ll be making a small donation to the Woodland Trust. Sorry if that sounds like I’ve a bit of a ‘holier than thou’ attitude. I also think that dedicating a tree to someone is better than giving them a box of Quality Street – bet you’re glad you’re not on my Christmas list. The Woodland Trust does a great job campaigning against indiscriminate felling of trees and saving ancient woodland. Above, trees on Stainforth Scar; below, Gisburn Forest.

dales images gisburn

Wow! Amazing!

I’ve been a fan of Nature and outdoors programmes on TV for many years but I must admit to tiring of them now. Constant dumbing down; the way they give us a five-minute chunk of a story then ‘come back to it later’ really frustrates me. ‘Experts’ are given the shortest time possible to explain things properly so that OTT presenters can ‘have a go’ – I really don’t give a damn if ‘Ellie can milk a llama’ or not. And I’m constantly asking myself what these TV presenters said before they discovered ‘wow’ and ‘amazing’? Must be an age thing.

Fracking hell

Remember the way the Tories heralded their ‘localism’ idea of a few years back? Locals will get to decide on local matters and we’ll all live happily ever after, they claimed. And do you recall how they promised our National Parks and green spaces would remain free from developers and be kept for us all to enjoy? Guess what – they were lying. I’ve watched industrial wind farms spring up all around the Dales and on the edge of the National Park like some giant fence – most being erected against the wishes of the locals. I’ve seen bits of green land gobbled up by developers, again against the wishes of the locals. And now they are allowing more capitalist friends of the government to frack up our countryside. There are parts of the USA and Australia where fracking has taken place on a massive scale; where the consequences have included the contamination of water supplies, toxic waste destroying fertile ground, plants, trees and animal habitats, and huge disruption to the lives of residents. For a map of possible UK fracking sites click here http://frack-off.org.uk/locations/

Dales images 0f 2015

On re-reading this week’s blog, it seems like the persistent damp, grey conditions here in the dale are definitely making me grumpy. At least the bad weather has given me chance to motor on with an idea to portray a year in North Ribblesdale using my snaps. I’m going to be pasting on the site a photo (or two) from every week during 2015, starting this month with Dales images taken between January and April. I’ve not necessarily chosen the best technical or artistic shots, just the ones that tell a story or portray the dale at the time. Hope you enjoy them – May, June, July and August to follow next week (unless we have cracking weather and I’m out and about instead of staring at a computer screen getting even more miserable and political). You can click on the Dales images on the carousel to enlarge (automatically scrolls every 3 seconds). Merry bloody Christmas.

Three Peaks alternative & There must be Dales in Paradise

2peaksajbrownPrinted in the first Dalesman magazine (April 1939) is this little snippet describing an early Three Peaks walk – certainly not the route walkers would normally take today but an interesting one-way trek from Dent to Kilnsey.  A J Brown was a popular walking-book writer between the 1920s and 1950s. Striding Through Yorkshire, written in 1938, was one of his most popular books and can be picked up for a song on Amazon, Ebay or second-hand bookshops. He was a prolific walker – his book, Four Boon Fellows – a Yorkshire Tramping Odyssey (1928), was about a 100-mile walk he did one Easter weekend from Barnard Castle to Ilkley.
I’m not sure how far Brown’s Three Peak walk was – my guess is between 35-40 miles depending on the exact route. Not bad for a day’s trek which included three of Yorkshire’s highest mountains (and two pubs).
hurtlepotInterestingly, the route took in Weathercote Cave. I visited neighbouring Hurtle Pot (pictured) on Monday, close to the Ribblehead Viaduct Navvies church of St Leonard’s in Chapel-le-Dale. Nowadays Weathercote Cave, just a few hundred yards north of Hurtle Pot, following the mysterious disappearing Chapel Beck, can only be visited by gaining permission from the landownstlener.
In days gone by Weathercote Cave was a major tourist attraction –  visitors paid to view the spectacle, described as follows by Victorian writer Harry Speight:
‘The rocks here ascend to a vertical height of 108 feet, and the water is seen leaping from a large cavity 33 feet below the surface, and, expanding into a misty sheet of bright dissolving particles, drops 75 feet below with such tremendous violence into the stony whirlpool at our feet, that the noise and reverberation of the clashing waters render conversation an impossibility.’
The painter Turner visited the cave several times and it has been described as one of the wonders of England, especially when the beck is in full spate. However, the place was closed to the public in 1971 following the death of a visitor.
If you can’t obtain permission then the next best way to see Weathercote Cave is to visit
http://oldfieldslimestone.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/the-darling-of-early-tourists-cave-this.html

Back to A J Brown – I was reminded of  him at Bill Mitchell’s funeral when one of Brown’s poem’s was mentioned. Anyone who loves the Dales will relate to Brown’s sentiments. Here is the full verse:
There must be dales in Paradise
or what would a dalesman do?
There must be dales in Paradise
to wander through and through
Bold Pen-y-gent and stern Whernside
are wondrous fair to see
And bonny Dentdale’s sunny slopes
are paradise for me.
To feel the rhythm of the pace that
wanders far and free!
To stride rough pastures of Cam Fell
and Langstrothdale so fair!
On steps above Wharfe’s waters bright
to breath the moorland air
Is nectar to tired townsmen who
the asphalt deserts flee.
But when we’ve done with wandering
amongst these well loved hills.
When Earth has loosed its hold on us,
its blessings and its ills.
We’ll find familiar pathways as
we reach fair Zion’s strand.
And our feet will know the blessings
of that beauteous Beulah Land.

Monoliths, aliens and a conflict of interests in the Dales

greatstonebw

Standing on top of Great Stone of Fourstones, which marks the Yorkshire border with that other county whose name escapes me, you can enjoy one of the best ‘driveable’ views of the south-western dales. The Three Peaks, Gragareth, Howgills and the distant jagged teeth of the Lakeland Fells are laid out before you. The 16ft-tall glacial deposit is the only one of four large stone outcrops remaining on this spot on Tatham Fell, near High Bentham – the others probably having been broken up for buildings and tools.  I wanted a view but not a trek on Wednesday and this monolith once again proved an ideal location. With a 200mm zoom lens I was able to make out the layered-cake effect of Ingleborough and capture Whernside looking particularly dominant above Twisleton Scar.

inglebwwen

wherntwis

After writing last week’s blog on Sunday I wandered up Ribblesdale and on to Stainforth Foss where dozens of people were on salmon-leap-watch. I wondered whether there would be any conflict here today, as just a few yards down river from the falls were two anglers … salmon fishing? Poaching? I didn’t stop to find out, but headed further downstream to Langcliffe where the colours on the riverbank and millpond stood out starkly against a drab sky.

ribbcolours

pondcolours

I reckoned this week would be one of the best for capturing the changing colours and I was right. On Monday I took a stroll around Malham Tarn – almost ignoring the tarn and concentrating on the surrounding bogland, shrubs and trees. The last time I’d been in this woodland I’d been startled by a deer but there was no sign this time.

malham1

malpath

The blue sky came out later and I got some good shots of the eastern side of Penyghent. I was also able to snatch some great scenes around home later that day in the evening sun.

pygcold

dramastain

spirelang

St John the Evangelist in Langcliffe might not have the history or ancient architecture of older dales churches but it is certainly a pretty Victorian building within well-kept grounds and it looks a picture when caught in the evening sun.

stjohn

At this time of year I like to raise my eyes above the area’s wonderful landscape and take in the ever-changing autumn sky. It’s been a treat this week with a variety of clouds, shades, and sunsets.  On Friday I sat  above Winskill and watched an invasion of aliens beaming up all before them … I woke up Saturday morning with ‘REJECT: Beyond Best Before Date’ stamped across my forehead.

abductions

Yesterday, after strolling by the Ribble in some glorious changing light, I drove up to the old road between Settle and Feizor to watch the sunset. I also waited as long as I dare for an unsteady hand-held night shot, to capture an outline of Ingleborough.

feizorsun

ingleoutline

A twist in the tale of a dale

ribblehead

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.

Lovely sisters of the Dales

swaledale

Driving through Swaledale this morning I doubted there was a better place I could possibly be. I travelled up Ribblesdale, in amongst the Three Peaks, before heading over Buttertubs Pass and negotiating my way around sheep that had serious suicidal tendencies (they were sunbathing in the middle of the road). Almost got run over myself while taking some photos of the meadows near Gunnerside (shame the Kings pub has now closed). Then, in sharp contrast to the neatly walled enclosures of the dale, it was over the wild open heather moorland to Redmire in Wensleydale and back home via Bolton Castle and Hawes. Yorkshire writer Alfred J Brown (1894-1969) once wrote: ‘One of the charms of the Yorkshire Dales is that they are all characteristically different, like lovely sisters of the same family.’ Nicely put.

Beating the Dales traffic

bowder

It’s that time of year when I make my first sighting of the greater-spotted caravaner  (tardus progressio) along the A65 near home. On Bank Holidays I tend to dip into my repertoire of back roads in order to find a quiet drive, a short walk and a nice pint. Good Friday was far from good on the main Dales roads so I ventured off the main route to the Lakes, down to Bentham and followed the narrow road over the moors to Slaidburn. I took in the scene over the Three Peaks and Gragareth from that enormous and weird Great Stone of Fourstones (pictured) before tackling the winding way over the tops. In places, roadside snowdrifts hung precariously over the car roof, while on the bleak moors the fierce wind had created crazy snow patterns amongst the tufts and the walls. A sharpish walk beside the river in Slaidburn helped ease the guilt of spending most of the day on my backside then it was off to Tosside for a welcome pint.

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