Out & About …

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

Tag: National Trust

  • Deep in Newton Wood—in search of Cold Well

    Deep in Newton Wood—in search of Cold Well

    On a rather damp morning, likely the dampest of this winter, I seized the opportunity to explore something that has lingered in my thoughts for quite some time. Attempting to do so last summer proved futile due to the impenetrable undergrowth. Within Newton Wood lies a feature labelled as “Cold Well” on the 1st edition…

  • Ormesby Hall—from family home to National Trust property

    Ormesby Hall—from family home to National Trust property

    Perched proudly on the outskirts of a bustling housing estate, Ormesby Hall, a Palladian mansion, appears somewhat incongruous. Despite its seemingly out-of-place location, it maintains an air of refinement and is surrounded by parkland, a sharp contrast with its urban surroundings. In contrast to more opulent residences like Marton and Gunnergate Halls, erected with newfound…

  • The Price of Popularity—When stunning views become exploited gems

    The Price of Popularity—When stunning views become exploited gems

    I tend to avoid Roseberry summit on weekends. It’s bustling up there, not my cup of tea. I crave the sweet solitude of the hills. But these days, being out in the countryside is like the coolest thing to do. Blame it on the pandemic or whatever, but it’s not like the old days. Ah,…

  • Cockle Scar — where is the Cat Trod?

    Cockle Scar — where is the Cat Trod?

    Best viewed on the approach from the direction of Guisborough, Roseberry Topping boasts a conspicuous shelf around the 200-metre mark called Cockle Scar. Like a tiered cake, it is the top edge of the sandstone stratum recognised by geologists as the Staithes Formation. In his memoirs, ‘Half a Century of Sport,’ Sir Alfred Pease, a member…

  • Looking down on the folly and a marcescent oak

    Looking down on the folly and a marcescent oak

    A disappointing coverage of snow. A mere smattering. I reckon we had slightly more down in the village, but the Cleveland Hills in the distance appear proper snow-clad. This delightful early morning view is looking down on the folly from the western side of Roseberry. An oak sapling, stubbornly holding onto its dried leaves, occupies…

  • A Nature Whodunit: The Case of the Wayward Eucalyptus

    A Nature Whodunit: The Case of the Wayward Eucalyptus

    Attention green-fingered readers. Can anyone identify this tree? It’s growing in a pretty exposed spot on Cliff Rigg. According to the ‘Seek’ app on my trusty phone, it’s a member of the myrtle family, and opinion is that it might be part of the Eucalyptus genus. If that’s true, this tree has ventured quite a…

  • Wordsworth woz ere

    Wordsworth woz ere

    An outlook spanning Great Langdale to Stickle Ghyll, featuring Harrison Stickle and, adjacent on the right, Pavey Ark, its formidable crag wall softened by the mist. Wordsworth once found himself taken aback by the bleat of a lamb, resounding from Pavey Ark, while standing by Stickle Tarn. A recollection of that very sound inspired a…

  • Confronting Storm Gerrit and hunting Nessie in Newton Wood

    Confronting Storm Gerrit and hunting Nessie in Newton Wood

    On a day that could only be described as dire, I ventured out to confront the tempestuous forces of Storm Gerrit. With a strategic approach, I sought refuge primarily within the protective confines of Newton Woods. In my last posting, but one, I mentioned ‘pareidolia’. This is the tendency to see images of animals, faces,…

  • Scarth Wood Moor

    Scarth Wood Moor

    I’ve previously posted how Major Herbert Peake, of Bawtry Hall in Doncaster, gifted the 220 acres or so of Scarth Wood Moor upon the National Trust back in 1935. Peake has an interesting history. Born in 1859 to Henry Peake of Westholme in Lincolnshire, he wouldn’t have been exactly raised in the humblest of surroundings.…

  • Graeme’s Legacy — The history of Grime Moor

    Graeme’s Legacy — The history of Grime Moor

    On a dull overcast day, I found myself volunteering with the National Trust at their Bridestones property. The sun, playing hide and seek in the clouds, occasionally showered the moor with some spectacular lighting. Our task was on Grime Moor, supposedly named after Graeme, a onetime local landowner. We were making habitat piles from felled…