Author: Fhithich
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Grinton Smelting Mill
Grinton Smelting Mill is one of the best-preserved lead mills in the Yorkshire Dales. It sits in Cogden Gill, just south of Grinton village, at the confluence of two becks. The site offered water, level ground, and easy access to ore. One of the becks had to be diverted, culverted and partly covered to make…
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Who Was Mitchell Atkinson?
Most of you know I am no admirer of memorials. Benches, plaques and carved rocks scatter the moors like litter. Yet this one is somewhat different, as if justified by age. Hidden off the main paths above Greenhow Botton since 1972, I had no idea it existed until I came across it, a few years…
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The Bridge at Baysdale: A Relic of a Lost Priory
This bridge in Baysdale is more than a quaint curiosity. Its single arch spans Black Beck with quiet dignity, yet the quirky little parapets give it certain character. These are later additions, added in the seventeenth or eighteenth century by someone with a flair for decoration but little sense of symmetry. The bridge was originally…
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Aireyholme: The Humble Launchpad of Empire’s Favourite Navigator
From the summit of Roseberry Topping, the Cleveland landscape performs its finest impression of timeless rural charm: undulating green fields stitched together by hedgerows, with Aireyholme Farm sitting unobtrusively in the middle like it’s been dropped there by a distracted cartographer. This was the patch of the country where the young James Cook grew up,…
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Michaelmas: When the Devil Trod on the Brambles and the Lord Held Out His Hand
The ling has faded, overtaken by the red leaves of bilberry. A fine day, and fittingly Michaelmas: the day the Devil put his foot on the brambles, ending the season for blackberries. A myth, perhaps, but tidier than admitting people simply tired of picking them. Michaelmas once mattered. It was one of the four quarter…
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Osmotherley Moor: Sheep, Turf and Shooting Rights
Dramatic skies hang over Black Hambleton, its summit almost clear of cloud. The view is from Solomon’s Lane, a grand name for a track that no longer exists. The surrounding expanse is Osmotherley Moor, part of which is “waste land of the manor,” now the subject of an application by the Open Spaces Society to…
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Freedom to Roam: Lessons from Sweden
Back home on my own patch, though I still feel justified in milking our recent sojourn in Sweden for another post. In 1706 Kräkmyren was dammed to divert its water to the Falun Mine. Sweden was then at war with Russia, and Russian prisoners of war are said to have built the earthbank. Over the…
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Where the RogsĂĄn Meets Varpan
The RogsĂĄn river slips quietly into the northern end of Lake Varpan, where the small settlement of Ă–sterĂĄ rests. Today it seems peaceful, but in earlier centuries this was a centre of roaring furnaces and hammering waterwheels. From the 1400s until the mid-1800s, copper smelters lined these shores, owned by miners tied to the vast…
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The Silence of the Ski Jumps
The ski jumps tower over Falun, stark against an empty arena bare of snow. Without the clamour of spectators they seem even more imposing, a reminder of the engineering that went into their creation. Every summer, rain gnaws at the slopes, an annual battle with erosion. Falun’s twin hills—the Normal (K90) and the Large Hill…
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Beneath the Blue Sky of Falun
A family visit to Falun in Sweden. Today the skies are clear, but three centuries ago the air here was so thick with smoke and fumes that the heavens were rarely seen. When Carl Linnaeus travelled through Dalarna in the summer of 1734, he wrote of Falun’s air as foul and suffocating. It was then…