Tag: history
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A Ruined Shelter, a Romantic Name, and some Random Latin
An opportunistic photograph, captured during a rare moment when the winter sun managed to pierce the unrelenting gloom of an overcast day. Here I am on Cold Moor—or, if you are feeling fanciful, Mount Vittoria Plantation. I prefer the latter; it has that pretentious 19th-century flair. This narrow strip of heather moor overlooks the Donna…
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From Leprosy to Ropewalks: The Forgotten History of Spital Beck
A tired old fishing boat, its hull a faded patchwork of blue and white, sits abandoned on the shingles at Whitby harbour, marooned by the tide and neglect. It has not tasted the sea in years. This sad tableau, no doubt, repeats itself in harbours all around our coast. In the background, a jumble of…
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Where Birch Meets Rust: A Forgotten Landmark
Descending from Highcliff Nab to Guisborough, I felt a sudden urge to revisit a landmark I often passed on my runs around these woods many years ago. This viewpoint, on top of a spoil heap from the Belmont Ironstone Mine, was mercifully spared the blight of commercial conifers—perhaps because even saplings had standards and found…
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Greenhow Botton with a Fleeting Glimpse the Birthplace of Ivor Cummings
A view down Greenhow Botton towards Roseberry, which distinctive shape barely manages to poke above the skyline. Remarkably, it is a clear day—clear enough that, far off in the distance, from this the highest point of the North York Moors, Hartlepool is visible, gleaming faintly through a break in the clouds. Why bother mentioning Hartlepool,…
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A Mild Christmas and Damnable Corsets: A Hundred Years Ago in Yorkshire
A sunny Roseberry loiters under a moody grey cloud, creating a scene that could make even the most indifferent observer take out their iPhone. Light and shadow play their parts, flaunting a contrast that seems to suggest nature itself has a flair for the dramatic. But exactly one hundred years ago, the 9th of December…
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Rievaulx Abbey: A Picturesque View from an 18c Vanity Project
Charles Dickens, ever the enthusiast, was beside himself with admiration for Rievaulx Abbey, and who could blame him? This Cistercian marvel, nestled in a lush green valley and surrounded by dense woodland, is a particularly fine ruin—courtesy of Henry VIII’s systematic penchant for tearing down monasteries. Perched above it, Rievaulx Terrace lords over the scene,…
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Slacks Wood Quarry And a Stream of Many Names
A dreich morning. Rain, wind and low cloud forced me to keep low, sticking to the woods where I could at least avoid the worst of the weather. This meant I had little choice but to focus on the minutiae. Hence this stream. It cannot even decide on a single name. Near its source on…
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Windermere and its History No One Wants to Discuss
It was a bit wet this morning in the Lakes, so here is a photograph from yesterday’s walk up Wansfell instead. This is, of course, Windermere, England’s largest lake, famed for its picturesque scenery but cursed with a history no postcard could capture. And I don’t mean the recent sewage discharge debacle. A favourite with…
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Charles Gough’s Fatal Ascent and his Dog’s Vigil
It has been some time since I last dragged myself up Helvellyn via Striding Edge. Definitely before the pandemic chaos. This photograph, taken around midday, gazes slightly east of south. St. Sunday Crag and Fairfield flaunt a dusting of snow. A marvellous day: cloudless peaks, sub-zero temperatures, and a wind that was brisk enough to…
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Kildale’s Agrarian Past
A stunning view of Kildale, seen from the sandstone crags of Ward Nab. Kildale, with its postcard-worthy scenery and quaint stone buildings, represents the sort of agricultural nostalgia many enjoy romanticising. Yet, beneath this charming façade lies a tale of upheaval and supposed progress. In the 18th century, Kildale’s open fields were carved up through…