Category: North York Moors
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Sunset Over Kikdale and a Sporting Legacy
I suppose I’m not necessarily a diurnal sort of person. But at this time of year, I have yet to shake off the winter habit of retreating indoors as soon as the temperature drops and dusk approaches. So, finding myself on Park Nab, looking over Kildale at sunset yesterday, was something of an anomaly. The…
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Cleveland: A County No One Wanted
All Fools’ Day 1974—the perfect occasion for bureaucratic tomfoolery. On this particular day, the North Riding of Yorkshire relinquished half of Roseberry Topping to the nascent “County of Cleveland.” A curious choice of name, given that “Cleveland” means “hilly land” in Old English, whereas this new county was largely flat. Nonetheless, the boundary was drawn,…
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The Government’s Proposals to Curb Heather Burning
Gisborough Moor, from across Sleddale, is marked by neat, rectangular patches of scorched heather. These are “swiddens,” the product of controlled burning, a practice designed to create the perfect environment for grouse. The idea is simple: burn the old heather, let fresh shoots grow, and produce an abundance of birds ready to be shot in…
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Surveying the Past Before the Grouse Take Over
The final day of trudging around Brown Hill, dutifully noting the remains of Bronze Age cairnfields, settlements, and funerary monuments. By Monday, the moor must be left undisturbed so the Grouse can multiply, ensuring there are enough targets for the guns on the Glorious Twelfth. The weather, as ever, was obliging. No rain was forecast,…
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Lake Greenhow: A Forgotten Relic of the Ice Age
Yesterday’s post led me to glaciers, glacial lakes, and the like. At Botton Head, my imagination ran riot. Difficult as it is to picture now, 10,000 years ago, a glacier covered the Tees Valley before me. The ice sheet, it is well-known, never quite managed to smother the North York Moors. So, naturally, I wondered…
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Newtondale: A Gorge Too Big for Its Stream
North Dale sits at the top end of Newtondale, a gorge that stretches all the way to Pickering. Newtondale is an oddity, or so everyone says, because the little Pickering Beck, which now trickles through it, could never have gouged out such a deep, narrow valley. At its tightest points, the valley is only 500…
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Mouldwarps, Misconceptions, and Mass Extermination
Only the other day, we were marvelling at the sheer number of molehills littering the fields this year. Which, naturally, means an abundance of moles—or, if one prefers their grander, more traditional name, “mouldwarps,” an old English term meaning “earth-thrower.” I remarked that their presence must indicate rich soil teeming with earthworms. The so-called “gentlemen…
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On this day in 1933, Germany passed the Enabling Act
Also known as the “Law to Remedy the Distress of People and Reich,” the act was a charmingly titled law that, in reality, handed Hitler absolute power and turned Germany into a totalitarian dictatorship. Yes, the “Gesetz zur Behebung der Not von Volk und Reich”—a masterclass in euphemism. A harmless little law that merely allowed…
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Toads and Toadies—Spanghew and Sycophants
I came across this small fellow today. Brushes with nature are always a delight, especially when they happen out of the blue, so there was no real competition for today’s photograph. Toads, as everyone ought to know, are entirely harmless. They rid gardens of unwanted insects and yet, for centuries, have been maligned as vile…
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A Stone that Once Mattered — A Forgotten Boundary
A low-angle view of a nondescript triangular stone, half-buried in a bleak expanse of dry, brown heather. The pale sandstone stands out against the darker, tangled vegetation, with the occasional patch of golden rushes breaking the monotony. In the distance, the low hill of Easby Moor stretch across the horizon, its gentle slopes leading to…