A Bridge, a Bench and a Certain Disregard for Permission

The names clinging to these moors deserve more than just a passing glance. Beyond their historical weight, they carry a strange novelty. Take Great Hograh Moor. A name that will give nothing away until you have buried yourself in old documents, dusty dialects and philological works. That’ll stay firmly on the to-do list.

Baysdale is a curious sort of valley. The upper dale has been tamed into farmland and forestry, once hosting a medieval nunnery, whilst the lower dale surrenders itself to the wild character of the surrounding moorland. Here, bracken and heather press down the valley sides with steep, narrow gills that most sensible people avoid. Great Hograh Beck runs down one such gill, its banks thick with unmanaged upland oak woodland that rarely sees any human presence.

Above the woodland a small stone bridge crosses the gill, built in 1938 by estate worker and local archaeologist Roland Close, who lived nearby at Shepherd’s House. The bridge has since become a modest landmark, marked by an assortment of memorials. Mostly plaques, though someone went so far as to install a bench. A fine effort, considering the labour of hauling materials into such a place, and all done without the blessing of the landowner. A very British sort of tribute: determined, slightly improper, but unlikely to be removed.