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, Little Fryup Dale—though, of course, it is the larger and presumably more self-assured of the two. The two dales, separated by the Heads, a convenient lump of moorland, present an ancient farming landscape, neatly divided into straight-sided fields, like a patchwork quilt.
Until 1655, this all belonged to the vast manor of Danby—a manor so large and pastoral that one might have mistaken it for a cattle ranch. In those halcyon days, when Catherine Parr looked out from Danby Castle, herds of placid cattle roamed, blissfully ignorant of the impending doom of enclosures. But alas, in time, the estate was sold off, and the two dales were carved into smaller, respectable parcels, each to be managed by diligent tenant farmers. The present straight-sided fields and dry-stone walls are the indelible stamp of this agricultural reformation.
Today, agriculture remains the lifeblood of the Fryup Dales, sustaining those hardy farmers who eke out a living on what is poetically termed “Less Favoured Areas.” This is a polite way of saying the land is at best grudging, thanks to an unfavourable combination of geology, altitude, and weather—none of which, it seems, have the slightest intention of making farming any easier. Nevertheless, the dales are peppered with independently run smallholdings, proudly defying both nature and the times, and continuing to graze their sheep and cattle.
The becks trickle through the Fryup Dales and join the River Esk, which in turn plays host to Yorkshire’s last bastion of the endangered freshwater pearl mussel. Once abundant, this mussel is now rare. Water pollution and the vanishing salmon and trout populations, on whose hospitality the mussels depend, have done the poor creatures no favours whatsoever.
To combat these affronts to both mollusk and man, the National Park Authority, with remarkable bureaucratic enthusiasm, has devised an array of schemes under the Farming in Protected Landscapes program. No stone is left unturned in this worthy effort to improve water quality, as a parade of ambitious projects rolls forth, boasting titles that evoke the pastoral idyll. Woodhead Farm, for instance, has embarked on the noble task of containing contaminated farmyard runoff. At Ellers House, hedges are being planted, presumably to delight the biodiversity and keep the floods in check. Slidney Beck Farm has installed a solar-powered water pump—a contrivance no doubt pleasing to the livestock, who are now excluded from their favourite beck. Meanwhile, at Prospect Farm, a wetland has been created, presumably to charm the local wildlife, who no doubt appreciate the thoughtful invitation. These small-gains, which might strike the cynical observer as rather like trying to hold back the tide, are nonetheless aimed at improving water quality and promoting sustainable farming practices. One might imagine the freshwater pearl mussels, few and tragic as they are, watching from their dwindling puddles with a kind of molluscan approval.
The National Park Authority has taken great pains to collaborate with the local farmers, whose ancient and time-honoured practices are now supplemented by solar pumps and hedge restorations. These noble custodians of the land have embraced this partnership with a combination of dutiful pragmatism and that quiet, unshakeable resignation which so characterises rural life. As a result, we are assured that the dales will continue to thrive, their ecosystems safeguarded for future generations, who will one day marvel at the ruins of solar-powered water pumps and wonder what on earth a freshwater pearl mussel ever looked like.
And so, progress marches on in the Fryup Dales, where history, ecology, and bureaucracy meet in what one might call an enthusiastic but fraught embrace. The sheep graze, the walls stand firm, the becks babble, and somewhere, in the shadows of this scenic effort, a pearl mussel clings to life, no doubt wondering what it all the fuss is about.
Further reading: FiPL spotlight: improving water quality in the North York Moors. Online: https://defrafarming.blog.gov.uk/2024/08/23/fipl-spotlight-improving-water-quality-in-the-north-york-moors/ [Accessed 27 Sep. 2024]
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