Category: Roseberry Topping
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RIP SKIPPY: A Memorial Nobody Wants
Just below the summit of Roseberry Topping—a name that sounds like a pudding but is in fact Teesside’s iconic hill—there’s a large crag sandstone, rock that was laid down millions of years ago. The hill itself has only existed for twenty thousand or so, which makes it practically new money in geological terms. Moss and…
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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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The Summerhouse Below Roseberry
A small plaque fastened to the wall of this sandstone shell of a building offers a neat explanation. It claims this was once a shooting box, commissioned by Commodore William Wilson of Ayton Hall. A tidy story, except for one small problem. It does not add up. A sketch by George Cruit in 1788 proves…
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Down among the Thistles
The hedgerows are heavy with the spoils of summer. Blackberries shine darkly in the shade, crab apples blush among the leaves, and Rowan berries hang in bright clusters. Rosebay Willowherb releases its silky seeds to the wind, while the thistles too surrender their down, sending it drifting like smoke across the fields. Thistles are cursed…
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The Windmills Are Winning
Ah yes, a truly legendary clash of minds and metal, as the supremely rational, astoundingly gifted Don Quixote—sharp as ever—heroically attacks a gang of… consults notes… windmills. Indeed. Definitely windmills. Not, say, wind turbines, or anything remotely threatening like giant knights in armour. From atop Roseberry Topping, the view is tragic. The frontline of windmills…
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Swifts on Roseberry, Silence on Easby Moor
It has been a while since I last stood on Roseberry, looking down on clouds. And even longer since I came up here on a Saturday. Most seemed to have taken the yellow thunderstorm warning as a cue to stay indoors. Easby Moor, with its pointed monument to Captain Cook, rose clean above the mist.…
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Because It’s There: Tourists on Roseberry
Another day, another climb up Roseberry. I often wonder when someone first made the effort simply for the sake of it—“because it’s there,” as Mallory said of a rather taller peak. When did the first tourists arrive? And what exactly counts as a tourist? With its sharp outline and looming bulk, Roseberry Topping has always…
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Before the Ling: Bell Heather in Bloom
The moors will soon flush lilac with the bloom of Ling, but for now it is the Bell heather that holds court. Its deeper purple has lit the hills for weeks. This sweep across Ingleby Moor is the broadest I have seen. Bell heather usually prefers modest clumps, favouring dry ridges, crag tops, and path…
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Route Choice Down Roseberry
Today’s photo looks down the steep, green slope of Roseberry Topping’s northwestern flank. Below, Newton-under-Roseberry sits quietly among ripening fields. To the right, thick woodland hugs Bousdale Hill in dark contrast. What caught my eye was the wide grass path on the right. It appears to follow the Right-of-Way, though anyone trusting this blindly would…
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Ogy Ogy Ogy: Elegy for a Dog Named Skip
From the Great Pyramid to Trump’s sad obsession with giant flagpoles, mankind has always clawed at meaning. Mere survival is never enough. They must carve something, build something, paint something—anything—to shout, “I was here!” Whether it is a monument propping up social hierarchies, a prize history will laugh at, or for those with less talent,…