Category: North York Moors
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The Impossible Rescue—a Victorian Lifesaving Legend
A fine day today on the coast south of Robin Hood’s Bay, the sort that invites postcards and ice creams, albeit a little chilly. In January 1881 it was another matter. A storm was brewing, snow lay in eight-foot drifts on the high ground, and the village was all but cut off from the world.…
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A Path Marked Clearly, Only it Points Left
About twenty minutes today went on scrubbing the graffiti off the rock faces, as I posted yesterday. Fortunately, it was water-based. They are not perfect, their shadow still lingers if you squint. Still, it is a sight better than the mess that was there before. Progress, slow and steady, like pushing treacle uphill. On the…
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Beyond Apathy — Learning to Care Again
Appreciation of nature arrives like sunrise through a dark forest. What was once the shadow of youth becomes colour. Grass, rock, heather all minding their own business, doing it well. For the moment the world makes sense and you do too. You are small, but not spare. You fit. That is enough. Then, darkness returns.…
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Hiding the Snowbones
I woke to a fresh cover of snow and a wall of fog. One lifted the spirits, the other did its level best to flatten them. Ten minutes after leaving the house and starting the climb up Roseberry, the sky had a change of heart and slowly thinned to an azure blue. The temperature inversion…
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Shelter in Stone — Bee Boles in Glaisdale
It is eleven years since I last walked this stretch of Glaisdale, and it is a quiet pleasure to find the bee boles still standing, having endured the long attrition of moorland winters. Even the ungainly stock fencing has earned its keep, discouraging sheep from testing their climbing skills. Bee boles are recesses built into…
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The Quiet Side of the Wainstones
Folklore has a habit of latching itself to a place, especially when the landscape looks as if it needs an explanation. A strange rock, an awkward slope, a stone where no stone ought to be, and the human mind gets to work, explaining things away with a story. Few landmarks on the North York Moors…
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The Belt of Venus
I came across an article the other day about the Belt of Venus. It is one of those quiet marvels the sky puts on without fuss, turning up often enough, yet missed by most people because they are too busy staring straight at the sunset or sunrise like moths at a bulb. The trick is…
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Newton Wood and the Afterlife of a Dying Ash
Just after dawn, Newton Wood sits under a light dusting of snow. The sky is a hard, clear blue. Bare deciduous trees stretch their thin arms upward, as if hoping for better weather later. Left of centre stands a prominent ash tree. Its trunk is tall and thick, brutally pruned and cut short. It looks…
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Snow on Great Ayton Moor
Despite the cold and the driving snow, the figures about to pass on this path on Great Ayton Moor carry a quiet determination. The dog walker pushing into the headwind shows a calm determination, choosing fresh air and motion over comfort. His dog, meanwhile, remains happily unaware of the brief, restless drama of the falling…
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Grey Weather and Old Ways on Newton Moor
A crisp, delightful morning on Newton Moor, in spite of a forecast that promises trouble. A depression over the Baltic is dragging down sharp northerly winds. That slab of grey on the horizon looks close enough to touch, yet, if that is so, it will be hanging over Scandinavia. In the foreground runs a straight,…