Category: Great Ayton
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Flocking Together: Hebridean Sheep and Sheepdog Training
I heard, through the ever-reliable grapevine, that this small flock of Hebridean sheep at Aireyholme Farm is being used to train a young sheepdog. Predictably, just before this photo was taken, the dog had had its lesson, and the sheep were beginning to calm down. Hebridean sheep are apparently the darlings of the sheepdog training…
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The Bullfinch: Bouncer, Thief, and Reluctant Songbird
Ah, the Bullfinch. Black-headed Bullies. Blood-Olphs. Whatever you prefer to call them, here they are, battling the winter like pint-sized gladiators. The sun, feeble and disinterested, barely filters through the foliage as I trudge back to the village along the River Leven. A few shrivelled leaves cling stubbornly to the trees, while dead Dock stalks…
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Winter’s Teeth
Sometimes, one stumbles across a so-called fascinating photograph in the most banal of places. I happened upon this forest of icicles whilst driving into Middlesbrough. On the return journey, I abandoned the car in a field entrance and voila. There is an aesthetic beauty to ice-shoggles, as they were once called in the Cleveland dialect,…
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Wellies, Floods, and the Debate over Captain Cook
Billy Connolly once sang about the virtues of wellies: “Cause they keep out the water, and they keep in the smell.” This morning, I was rather pleased to have followed his wisdom, as the path to Little Ayton was a sodden mess thanks to the rain and snowmelt. Here is a photo of the path…
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Sliding into Oblivion: Adventures in Cliff Rigg Quarry
Ah, Twelfth Night at last—perhaps now we can be rid of those garish Christmas lights for another ten months, though no doubt someone will cling to their festive cheer until next month. After all the news programmes whipped themselves into a frenzy last might over the impending snowstorm and freezing rain, waking up here in…
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A Festive Hack or a Public Nuisance? My Meeting with the Hunt
Ah, the Boxing Day Hunt – that charming spectacle where tradition meets a total disregard for everyone else on the bridleway. How delightful to encounter the alpha redcoat, who generously allowed me some space before the rest of the merry field boxed me against the fence. Nose to tail they rode, oblivious to the fact…
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A Slog up Roseberry Topping and a Nod to Pagan Roots
I could claim it was a brisk dash up Roseberry Topping this morning, but in truth, it was more of a plodding trudge. Perhaps it only felt that way because I foolishly dressed for winter, not realising it would be unseasonably warm for Christmas Eve. This is the view from the summit, looking down on…
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The Loftus Mine Rescue of 1935 and the Bravery of George Heslop
On this day, 17th December, in 1935, a roof collapse at Loftus Ironstone mine trapped two miners, John Cooper Henry and Henry Murrell, under a heap of rock. Enter George Heslop, the mine’s Agent and Manager, who arrived at 9 a.m. to find that the roof was still collapsing and other miners were understandably reluctant…
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Great Ayton’s Flood Defences Save the Day
Last night’s Storm Darragh was excuse enough for a stroll along the River Leven. Something vaguely dramatic might have happened. The flood defence scheme had indeed sprung into action, with the old hockey pitch of the former Friends’ School now masquerading as a water meadow. Amusingly, before the school turned it into playing fields, it…
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Slacks Wood Quarry And a Stream of Many Names
A dreich morning. Rain, wind and low cloud forced me to keep low, sticking to the woods where I could at least avoid the worst of the weather. This meant I had little choice but to focus on the minutiae. Hence this stream. It cannot even decide on a single name. Near its source on…