A footpath is submerged in floodwater, with a stock wire fence, and a newly planted hedge in plastic guards. A snow-covered hill is visible in the background. The water level is high, and the adjacent field is flooded.

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 submerged under floodwater, reflecting the dreary sky above. It is all very poetic—quiet, still, moody. A curving fence line with hedge saplings still cocooned in their plastic guards and the distant Easby Moor add depth to the scene. Then I ruined it by splashing through in my wellies.

Speaking of Easby Moor, its crowning feature is the monument to Captain James Cook, R.N., the beloved son of Great Ayton. Naturally, this is my cue to digress into the topic of monuments in general. Back in 2020, after the statue of slave trader Edward Colston took a rather dramatic swim during anti-racism protests, there was some local hand-wringing that Cook’s monument might be next. A group of gallant defenders even camped out to “protect” it. Their vigil ended after a few days of rain and a collective shrug.

Cook is without doubt a controversial figure, especially among indigenous peoples of the South Pacific, but as far as I am aware, no one actually threatened his monument high on Easby Moor. What is happening, however, is a broader effort—fueled by movements like Black Lives Matter—to introduce some nuance into our historical narratives.

This is not about erasing monuments; it is about adding context. The suggestion that we might dare to critique the likes of Cook using actual historical facts seems to terrify some people. In a democracy, it should be perfectly healthy to reassess our heroes. What is unhealthy is the idea that some figures should be immune to scrutiny, a notion more at home in a dictatorship than a society supposedly committed to truth. Those wailing loudest about this “attack on our history” seem to think the movement is just roving gangs armed with sledgehammers. It is not. But, as ever, outrage requires less effort than understanding.


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