A rough-cut sandstone block lies abandoned at the top of an old quarry on Ayton Bank. It first appears on the 1915 Ordnance Survey 25-inch map. One wonders what caused the sudden stop—tools downed, the block left where it was, after the time and effort it must have taken to cut it, shape it, and drag it uphill the five metres or so from where it was quarried. Other half-worked stones still lie scattered in the grass.
Stone from these moors was usually sledged downhill, letting gravity do the hauling. Yet the old map shows a track running from the top of the quarry toward Gribdale Gate, which suggests a different plan for stones from this quarry.
What matters most about sandstone is its quality. From the Jurassic beds quarried all across the moors came stone for abbeys and churches, grand houses, railway bridges, civil works, town buildings, village homes, hillside farms and miles and miles of dry-stone walls.
Each quarry had its own traits, but it was the freestone—moor sandstone—that was most sought after. Easy to work when freshly hewn, it hardens when exposed. Always laid in flat, natural beds, it breaks free cleanly, its seams marked by fine layers of clay or silt. Mostly yellow, it turns brown with time and can be stained blue near the surface by heather. Raised in heavy blocks, it cuts readily into wallstones—often nine or ten inches high—which helped fix the local style: ashlar masonry in even, regular courses, seen across the region1Hartley, Marie and Joan Ingilby. “Life and Tradition on The Moorlands of North-East Yorkshire”. Page 96. J.M. Dent & Son. 1990..
This stone left behind is too short for a gatepost and too long for simple walling. More likely, it was being shaped as a lintel—until, for some reason, the work simply stopped.
- 1Hartley, Marie and Joan Ingilby. “Life and Tradition on The Moorlands of North-East Yorkshire”. Page 96. J.M. Dent & Son. 1990.
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