Out & About …

… on the North York Moors, or wherever I happen to be.

Category: North Yorkshire

  • Ashmore, Benson, Pease and Co.’s tank at Rounton Grange

    Ashmore, Benson, Pease and Co.’s tank at Rounton Grange

    Rounton Grange, the ancestral home of the Bells, is now a bit of a no-show, given that the house was demolished back in 1965. The site’s now reverted to woodland. But a few buildings in the grounds are still hanging on. Like this one with an unmistakable cast iron tank proudly sporting the name of…

  • Beyond the Mist — The Battle of Stokesley

    Beyond the Mist — The Battle of Stokesley

    This morning, the air on Great Ayton Moor was crystal clear, but away in the south-west, a low mist crept up the Vale of Cleveland, making the wind turbines at Seamer look like they’re levitating. That white house yonder caught my eye. Turns out, it’s Howe Hill. Now, I can therefore take a brief detour…

  • The Friends’ School’s Plan for Invasion in 1914

    The Friends’ School’s Plan for Invasion in 1914

    Dominating Great Ayton’s soggy High Green, this soggy Monday morning is the stern façade of the erstwhile Friends’ School, now converted into residential dwellings. The village well, no longer in its original spot, was moved to make room for extra car-parking. I recently read an account detailing the school’s arrangements in case of a prospective…

  • “Gerroff Moy Land!” and don’t even look at it

    “Gerroff Moy Land!” and don’t even look at it

    On this rather dreich morning, I found myself compelled to focus my photographic endeavours closer to home. When I first moved into the village, the scene before me would have been an open field stretching toward a gate nestled in the distant hedge. However, as time has gone by, the path has become enclosed by…

  • The Ghost of Stokesley Town End

    The Ghost of Stokesley Town End

    Yet another tale spun by the industrious quill of Cleveland’s venerable chronicler, Richard Blakeborough. This piece has lingered on my to-do list, biding its time for a fitting photograph. Regrettably, my patience has waned. Let this image of Aireyholme and Cliff Rigg suffice. Look closely, and the roof tops of Stokesley reveal themselves in the…

  • Hutton Rudby and its history of cockfighting

    Hutton Rudby and its history of cockfighting

    Hutton Rudby must be one of the prettiest villages in Cleveland, particularly when adorned in the splendid hues of autumn. However, beneath this picturesque facade lurks a shadowy past. Despite the outright ban on cockfighting in England with the Cruelty to Animals Act of 1835, the so-called ‘sport’ persisted well beyond the legal decree against…

  • A Pluviophile’s Paradise — Strolling by a Swollen River Leven

    A Pluviophile’s Paradise — Strolling by a Swollen River Leven

    Earlier today, I was told, the renowned TV doctor, Dr Michael Mosley, graced the airwaves to sing praises about walking in the rain. In a routine I’ve adhered to my entire adult life, I can’t recall a day when I haven’t ventured out for my daily exercise, regardless of the weather. Evidently, rain confers a…

  • A Kepwick Mystery

    A Kepwick Mystery

    For your delectation, another folk tale of the North Riding of Yorkshire from the pen of Richard Blakeborough. This story appeared in an article in the Northern Weekly Gazette on the 15 November 1902. I was reminded of the tale as I descended Gallow Hill toward Kepwick village, a tale fitting for the approaching Halloween…

  • Storm Babet

    Storm Babet

    A deserted High Street in Great Ayton. Not a soul in sight. Everyone’s hunkered down. For me, a pluvious and tempestuous battle up Roseberry, though I skipped the summit. A short walk, leaving the rest of the day for housework. There’s an Old English word that suits our usual cleaning routine — ‘scurryfunge.’ It means…

  • Sunday Morning Coming Down

    Sunday Morning Coming Down

    Though Johnny Cash’s song is as clear as crystal about solitude, the blues, and the foggy haze of a Sunday morning after a wild Saturday night, it oddly echoes the serenity of this particular Sunday morning, which coincided with the first frost of the season, a gentle nudge reminding us of the impending winter’s chills.…