It’s a shame you can’t hear this photo. I popped out for a bit of air at lunchtime, despite the rain, to see how Stainforth Force was looking. I could hear the mighty thundering of the Ribble from several hundred yards away; standing beside the fall it was deafening. Perhaps it doesn’t look so impressive in the photo but you have to remember that this is normally a short series of falls… at times today it look like one powerful cascade – and incredibly there were salmon trying to leap against the flow. Daft beggars.
The packhorse bridge here is one man-made structure no one could ever object to in the dales.
Stare for long enough at my photo of the Hoffmann Kiln at Langcliffe in Ribblesdale and you’ll see an enormous eye looking back at you… or maybe it’s just me being over-imaginative who can see it! This is a rare building, a remnant of Craven’s industrial past when lime used to be burnt here. The kiln, named after the German who invented it, has stood since 1873. Most tourists drive straight past unaware of its presence just off the road to the Three Peaks. It closed in the 1930s. There was a tall chimney here once but strangely, just as it was due to be demolished in 1951, it fell down on its own accord, the day before the planned ceremony, when there was no one around.There’s no charge for looking around the kiln so I’m surprised more Yorkshire folk don’t visit.
As I was heading away from Ribblehead the other night after watching the sunset, this little train trundled very slowly across the viaduct. I’d heard some time ago that toxic waste is sometimes taken along the line from the north west. Can anyone fill in the detail? The truth is out there! Anyway, I thought it made a nice picture.
Last night’s weather show in north Ribblesdale was brilliant. I sat as near to the end of a rainbow you can get, watched mighty clouds marching rapidly across the sky changing the scenery by the minute. From beneath the arches of Ribblehead Viaduct I saw a fine sunset. In Kingsdale I witnessed shafts of sunlight light up first the western slopes of Whernside then like a great theatre spotlight switch across the valley to Ingleborough. I got so giddy I took eighty photos – thank goodness for digital cameras. The top one shows the sunset from underneath the viaduct, with the flat top of Ingleborough on the left; the other shows the light on the viaduct a couple of moments before the sunset. Keep looking here for more pictures (not compulsory – just a suggestion.)
I’ve come across many quirky little places as I’ve wandered around the Dales. This unique scene shows a peculiar mix of dales landscape, industrial intervention, nature’s guile and man’s ingenuity. You’ll only come across this strange spot if you head up Littledale on the path from Ribblehead Viaduct to Bleamoor Tunnel. Victorian builders of the Settle-Carlisle railway created a channel to divert the stream; a tree managed to root itself in the minutest of cracks on the wall top; then recent wall builders decided the tree’s efforts should not be in vain and left it room to grow. Some folk find Man’s meddling with the countryside downright irritating, but now and then it can prove interesting and entertaining. Further along this track – the Craven Way – are some fabulous views over Dentdale. Walkers can also branch off up Whernside or follow the line of the tunnel to Dent Head from here.
There was so much greyness around the Dales this morning that there wasn’t much adjusting needed to turn this photo into black and white. The limestone pavement is at the foot of Ingleborough; in the background is the long mass of Whernside. A few hundred yards behind this view is Douk Cave (below) which today felt more primeval than usual. The sound of trickling water echoed around the chasm in which it sits. Ancient ferns, mosses and shade-loving plants looked lush against the limestone, and the summer growth on the trees which cling to the steep sides virtually roofed the whole scene.
I managed to capture one of those magical Dales skies this evening. There seemed to be so much happening – shadow and light dancing along the ground and layer upon layer of clouds and muted colours above. A razor-edged shaft of light came in from the left just for a few seconds to give the scene even more interest. The distant cloud is just brushing the top of Ingleborough. Many a time I’ve watched the sun go down from here at Winskill, up above Langcliffe in Ribblesdale.
Thought I’d stretch the little old legs with a walk out of Chapel le Dale despite the grey, misty weather. I took a look around the tiny church where the navvies who died while building Ribblehead Viaduct are buried. Plenty of snowdrops in the churchyard but the daffs haven’t made an appearance yet. Took a slight diversion to gawp down Hurtle Pot . It felt a little eerie, dark and dank standing in this great gully with the only sound being the echo of a screeching raven high above. There was very little water and the River Doe was running completely underground. I mooched around the dry river bed a while in a pointless search for Weathercote Cave before heading up the hill towards the limestone scars. The landscape beside the track is weird here. Limestone rocks are scattered everywhere and are coated in thick moss and fungi about which I know nothing. Large trees grow from the crevices despite there seemingly being little to sustain them. Half way up the track is a rusting old statue created by a famous (so it says on t’ internet) sculptor called Charles I’Anson – hard to tell whether the creation is supposed to be an archer or an alien. There’s a plaque which says that the statue was vandalised in 1983 and subsequently found by cave divers in 30ft of water down Hurtle Pot. ‘Time will tell if the spirit of the boggard of Hurtle Pot is now enshrined in the statue’ states the plaque. Strange coincidence maybe, but I’anson died in 1983. A bit further up the track a sheep’s skull lay in the path looking towards Whernside. I took this as a hint that I shouldn’t venture that way. The opposite way didn’t bring me any photographic joy though, as a still snow-laden Ingleborough only reluctantly and briefly appeared in the distant mist. Perhaps the omens were against me today but in some perverse way I enjoyed the walk.
