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Of Dogs, Grouse and Bureaucratic Logic
My trusted weather source, yr.no, claimed with confidence that rain would begin at noon. The climb from Guisborough had been hot and close under a humid sun. At 11:50, standing on Potter’s Ridge, the sky had turned grim. A few minutes later, the rain came — sudden, heavy, and, in truth, rather welcome. I had…
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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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Obelisks and Obfuscation: Rethinking Cook’s Monument
Three heavily-laden walkers trudge away from Captain Cook’s Monument towards Gribdale. One of them had, moments earlier, stood on the railings and appeared to kiss the obelisk. Quite what prompted this act of reverence is unclear, but it brought to mind an article I once read claiming the monument is less about Cook and more…
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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,…
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Summer Solstice on Roseberry
I had not expected the summit to be empty, but the quiet that met me was unexpected. A small crowd sat scattered on the rocks, all facing east, waiting for the sun. They were silent, respectful, marking the midpoint of the year with stillness. Even the stonechats seemed to join in, their song fitting the…
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The Priory Gatehouse: Overshadowed but Not Forgotten
I had reason to visit Guisborough today and took the chance to walk around the old priory. I have posted before of its great east wall—impressive as it is, it remains only a fragment of what must once have been a formidable complex. The priory met its end in 1540 with the Dissolution. Ten years…
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The Battle for the Barrows
In a tide of encroaching bracken, a few exposed stones on a low rise suggest something hidden just beneath the heather. I am standing on a Round Barrow—one of four, perhaps five—in what was once a Bronze Age cemetery. These circular burial mounds, called barrows or cairns when built of stone, are the most common…
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A Hidden Hollow-Way on Coleson Bank
This morning’s constitutional threw up a surprise. I have used the so-called ‘Green Lane’ on Coleson Bank before, climbing out of Battersby, and even posted about it. You can just make out a glimpse of it in the photo. But I do not go that way often. The narrow gulley attracts off-road motorbikes, which makes…
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Where the Sheep Went Swimming
Sheepwash, ever the draw for Teesside’s day-trippers, earned its name in the most literal way. It was once a place where sheep were hauled into the cold beck and scrubbed clean before shearing. Until the early twentieth century, many farmers still followed the old habit. The idea was to coax new wool to rise from…
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