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Autumn’s Splendour and Shadow
Autumn colours never repeat themselves. Some years they dazzle, others they merely please, yet always they seem above the average. This season the woods and commons are blaze with bronze oaks, copper beeches, flashes of yellow, and the odd scarlet sentinel. Only the ash stands bare and grey, its leaves long gone. Even the bracken…
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Boltby Scar: The Quarry That Fetched Four Bob a Ton
A view along Boltby Scar, on the western edge of Hambleton Down, where the wind brushes across an Iron Age promontory fort and ancient round barrows. Beneath them lies a long-abandoned limestone quarry, silent now, but once echoing with the clang of hammers and the groan of wagons. Nearly a century ago, in 1927, it…
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Cliff Rigg Wood: An Old Tramway, a Broken Gate and Echoes of Cook
I thought it worth recording this path while it remains as it is—the bottom one through Cliff Rigg Wood. For posterity, as they say. It is due for “improvement” in the next few weeks, though I am not quite sure what the result will look like. The National Trust, in their grand design to upgrade…
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The Teesworks Deal: Who Gets the Gold and Who Takes the Risk?
An article in the latest Private Eye about the grand scheme to rebuild the old steelworks on the Tees set me thinking of Eston Nab, where I used to run at lunchtimes while working at ICI Wilton. The steelworks was also one of my sites back then, so its rise, fall and resurrection have always…
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A Mystery Beneath our Feet on Cold Moor
Last Sunday, the weather gods allowed a final memorable spectacle of blue skies over the North York Moors before the autumnal gloom. From the heights of Cold Moor, the view towards the Wainstones was as grand as ever, but my eye was drawn not to the distant crags, but to something rather more curious: that…
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Sleights and the Perilous Descent of Blue Bank
Once upon a time, Sleights must have seemed the very picture of rural contentment: a quiet, respectable village where weary visitors might escape the clamour of industrial England amid green hills and fresh air. It was, one suspects, precisely the sort of place where Whitby’s prosperous merchants might choose to end their days, away from…
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Larpool Viaduct: The Brick Monument of the Esk
Larpool Viaduct at Whitby stands today like a brick-red monument to an age when Victorian railway engineers thought artistically, even as they fought mud, tides, and buried forests. Completed in 1884 to carry the Scarborough and Whitby line across the deep valley of the River Esk, it was built entirely of brick, a deliberate rejection…
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Cringle Moor and the Cult of the Drone
A splendid day upon the Cleveland Hills, warm, sunny and kissed by a breeze so genteel it could almost be mistaken for civility. Cringle Moor was heaving, of course, the Viking Chase Fell Race transforming it into something between a checkpoint and a human anthill. And there, above the sweating masses, hovered the latest curse…
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The Twisting Plume of Ingleby Greenhow
A familiar landscape, yet on a still autumnal day in the Vale of Cleveland, when not a single turbine blade so much as twitches, an unexpected sight smudges the view. A solitary plume of smoke twists into the air, unsettling in its beauty, creating a scene both ordinary and strangely unfamiliar. At first glance, it…
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The Lettered Board Inn and the Mystery of the Two Georges
A lonely crossing on the Lyke Wake Walk. Halfway between exhaustion and achievement. This was once the place where weary walkers would find their support party, waiting with flasks of tea and stodgy puddings to fortify them for the bleak march across Wheeldale Moor. That was half a century ago. The ruin that once stood…
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