Category: Bilsdale
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The Ancient Hollow-Way to Nowhere in Particular
The Public Bridleway from the hamlet of Urra winds its way up to another Right of Way that follows Billy’s Dyke, that Bronze Age boundary fortification of earth and stone. This grand construction supposedly gets its name from Billy Norman, better known elsewhere as William the Conqueror, who apparently managed to get lost in a…
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Scorched Earth: A Cool Burn on Hasty Bank
Ah yes, the wonders of the so-called “cool burn”—a delightful little exercise in setting fire to the heather in supposedly small, controlled patches. The idea, we are told, is to clear out the old heather without charring the peat or moss underneath, thereby avoiding carbon loss and allowing for quick regrowth. The fire, they assure…
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Urra Moor on Pancake Day
Up on Urra Moor this morning, the sun made an appearance, but the wind still had a bite to it. This is the view across Bilsdale to Hasty Bank. If you strain your eyes, you might just make out Roseberry Topping in the far distance. I suppose I must acknowledge that it is Pancake Day—though…
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The Sheep of Clough
A heap of moss-covered sandstone, once a farmstead, now a sheep stronghold. This is Clough, where the path from Bilsdale Moor West meets another from Staindale to Raisdale Mill. In 1781, William Hunton lived here, followed in 1826 by John Garbutt, who managed thirty-five acres. Today, the only residents are the sheep, who seem perfectly…
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The Witch-Mare of Orra—A Forgotten Nightmare Myth
Ah, Urra—barely discernible through the oppressive cloud that choked my aimless trudge around the moor it so generously lends its name to. It is also the setting for the utterly enthralling tale of the Witch-Mare of Orra. A legend I have alluded to with tiresome frequency, though clearly without bothering to grasp its finer points.…
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Brume, Roke, and Other Vapourous Delights
There is something magical about mist creeping up the dales of the North York Moors, at least if you’re being sentimental. Behind me, the mist—sorry, ‘brume’—was crawling up the Vale of Mowbray, but that was less of a spectacle than this show over Raisdale and Bilsdale. Speaking of brume, it is the ideal word for…
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Bilsdale and the Curious Journey of Road Salt
Another thrilling morning on the North York Moors. Freezing temperatures, frost blanketing the valley, and snow still stubbornly clinging to the high ground. How enchanting. This is a view of Bilsdale from Hasty Bank. For days now, the gritters have been tirelessly scattering salt as if the very fate of civilisation depends on it. It…
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Raisdale’s Constablewick and the Bones of Bert
This morning was cold, but not that cold. No puddles bore that brittle layer of “cat ice,” and the dead Bracken fronds remained frost-free. Compare that to last Saturday, when midnight brought a sultry 15°C, according to the car thermometer—a temperature fit for short sleeves. Earlier that day, as Storm Bert howled and hurled snow,…
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Hasty Bank and an Old Gatepost
Whenever I‘m Out & About, I rarely start out with any sort of plan. There might be a vague idea of a route, but more often than not, I just make it up as I go along. Some might call that reckless, others might deem it inconsiderate or just plain annoying, but I like to…
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From Drainage to Divination: The Cheshire Stone’s Secrets
I recently stumbled upon the theory that a stone – the Cheshire, or perhaps the Cheddar Stone as some insist on calling it – perched on on the edge of Urra Moor, has a natural basin which has been carefully modified in prehistoric times by the addition of a notch to channel the water outflow…