Category: North York Moors
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Kildale Moor Revisited
Ah yes, for the second day in a row, I found myself wandering around Kildale Moor, once again staring down at Sleddale Slack—though, to keep things fresh, I chose a slightly different vantage point. Variety is the spice of life, after all. Off to the right, perched on the high ground, is Percy Rigg, home…
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Kildale Moor: Cairnfields and Forgotten Paths
The sky is a washed-out blue, untroubled by clouds. Even in their dreary winter shades, the moors still manage to look grand. I find myself on Kildale Moor, a vast expanse littered with prehistoric cairnfields, settlements, and funerary monuments. Allegedly. In reality, one must squint to discern any such features. The standing stone, however, is…
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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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A Costly Collop — The Ubiquitous Smoke of Burning Heather
A view south-east, straight into a hazy sun, down Lonsdale and across to Kildale Moor. The scene is, of course, marred by a hibernal plume of smoke from the burning of the heather, because no landscape is complete without an artificial smog. But enough about that. Today is the penultimate opportunity for carnivorous indulgence before…
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Baysdale and a Digression into the Art of Grave Digging
Baysdale today, perhaps the remotest dale in the North York Moors, accessible by car only from its head. This is Shepherd’s House, the last in the dale—or perhaps the first, depending on one’s perspective. I have already posted about Baysdale ad nauseum, so instead, I shall give you a little snippet from the Newcastle Guardian…
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Beyond the Pale: The Lingering Echoes of Kildale’s Past
The sky was an unnervingly perfect shade of cerulean this morning, while overnight frost clung on stubbornly in the shadows. This is the view from Percy Rigg towards Coate Moor, the back of Captain Cook’s, the monument making a feeble attempt at visibility—you will need to squint or zoom in if you are truly desperate…
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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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Family Farms or Tax Havens? The Debate Over Farmland Inheritance
A picturesque view of Roseberry looming over the Cleveland Vale, a landscape dotted with the usual mix of arable and livestock farming. A typical lowland farm grows wheat, barley, and oilseed rape while also rearing cattle and sheep. These farms are mostly family-run or tenanted, though one suspects that “family-run” has a rather flexible definition…
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A Brief and Unnecessary Guide to Burrs
When I was a lad, I remember a Saturday morning BBC Radio programme called Children’s Favourites. One of the songs frequently played was I Know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly, sung by an American named Burl Ives. I thought Burl was an cool name. At the time, I had no idea that ‘burl’…
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Cliff Rigg Scallywags Hideout
A year ago, I wrote about the Great Ayton Scallywags Patrol, a secretive Auxiliary Unit stationed in the area during the Second World War. Unlike the familiar, shambolic image of “Dad’s Army,” these men were part of a covert Home Guard unit. If the Germans had invaded, they could expect to last about a week—hardly…