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From Drainage to Divination: The Cheshire Stone’s Secrets
I recently stumbled upon the theory that a stone – the Cheshire, or perhaps the Cheddar Stone as some insist on calling it – perched on on the edge of Urra Moor, has a natural basin which has been carefully modified in prehistoric times by the addition of a notch to channel the water outflow…
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Rosedale Wyke to Ruin: The Decline of Port Mulgrave
Every time I visit Port Mulgrave, I am struck by how little it changes—save, of course, for the gradual but ceaseless gnawing of the harbour by the North Sea. Today, I didn’t manage to descend to the beach, not that I missed much, for from Rosedale Cliffs I could see quite plainly that the old…
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The Overlords of Kildale
Park Nab, a smallish sandstone crag, much favoured by the climbing fraternity, who no doubt delight in the view over Kildale—suggested by some to be the dale of a forgotten Viking named Killi. Perhaps he might be one of those unfortunate Norsemen discovered inconveniently buried under the church floor during the 1868 rebuild. Quite fitting…
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Echoes of the Leven: A River’s Memory
A quick photo before raindrops splattered the camera lens. The River Leven is high, a few determined souls brave the weather, and the paths are mostly puddles. I have taken a photo from this spot before, though I only realised that after I got home. My computer, as ever, has a far better memory than…
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“Take Me To The Forest”
In a move that is sure to leave the squirrels bewildered, the National Portfolio Organisations‘ Wild Rumpus and Festival of Thrift have unveiled their grand plan to transform the tranquil forests of Guisborough into a festival of organised anarchy. They are calling it “Take Me To The Forest,” a spectacle destined to overwhelm the senses…
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Michaelmas Traditions: From the Devil’s Brambles to Cabbage Wars
One of my favourite sights is the spectacle of a temperature inversion in Bilsdale, when the mist rolls over the Cleveland Hills like a waterfall, spilling into the plain below. Such was the view this morning, on this day of St Michael’s Feast, or Michaelmas. Michaelmas, celebrated on the 29th of September each year, marks…
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After the Rain: Life on Newton Moor
A sky of blue is like a breath of fresh air after the dreary weather we’ve been enduring for the past week. It lifts the spirits, reminding us that sunlight still exists. It is not every day that one sees standing water on Newton Moor. While the ground is often damp and there are always…
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Great Fryup Dale: Cooking Up Change
Nestled in the dramatic expanse of the North York Moors National Park, where heather dominates the moors, trees line the becks in the dales, and the coastline is battered by the North Sea, lies Great Fryup Dale, a place as delectable as its name. It is, by all appearances, a great deal like its sibling,…
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The Miner’s Path: From Ironstone to Ypres
The constant rain has transformed Airyholme Lane into a stream, though it mercifully spills into the field before it reaches the farmyard. I cannot help but wonder what the weather was like on this day in 1917. The miners from Roseberry Ironstone Mine would have trudged along this track to and from their shifts. Did…
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Geese over the Moor, Jets in the Sky: My Morning Routine Disturbed
Wednesday mornings have become a predictable affair—each week beginning with a stroll across Battersby Moor. This morning, however, my private reverie were rudely interrupted by the coarse honking of a skein of geese, or what I dare venture to call greylags, flapping about in that charmingly organised way they have, perhaps several hundred strong, hurtling…
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