Tag: history
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Port Mulgrave: A Harbour of Erosion and Memory
The last time I ventured down Rosedale Cliff to Port Mulgrave was sometime before the world discovered a new way to grind to a halt — the dreaded COVID. Shortly afterwards, a landslip completely wiped out the path. Today, visiting the beach was not on the itinerary, but fate – in the form of National…
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Cleopatra’s Needle and its Tenuous Connection to the North Riding
Let us journey back to this day, 21st January in 1878, to Gravesend, Kent. Imagine the children, thrilled to avoid school, lining the Thames estuary to witness the grand arrival of Cleopatra’s Needle. This 3,500-year-old, 224-ton, 21-metre-high granite obelisk had been towed from Alexandria to London in a cumbersome iron vessel shaped like a cylinder.…
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Bold Venture Gill
The public footpaths through Highcliffe Farm have been diverted. Fascinating. I am sure there is an entirely compelling reason for depriving the public of paths they have used for decades. Perhaps the landowner fancied some peace and quiet, or maybe there was a pressing need to shift things about for reasons too profound for us…
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Teddy’s Nook: Where Facts are Optional
Working with the National Trust at Old Saltburn, tucked away in Littledale—a predictably small valley with a narrow view across to the new town. The place has some flora worth noting, though you will be mostly clawing your way through Blackthorn, Gorse, and Brambles. Today’s thrilling task was hacking back this jungle. Perched smugly on…
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Wellies, Floods, and the Debate over Captain Cook
Billy Connolly once sang about the virtues of wellies: “Cause they keep out the water, and they keep in the smell.” This morning, I was rather pleased to have followed his wisdom, as the path to Little Ayton was a sodden mess thanks to the rain and snowmelt. Here is a photo of the path…
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William Mudd: Lichens, Legacy, and a Whiff of Whisky
There I was, trudging along the escarpment of Great Ayton Moor this morning, mulling over what I might post about today, when a patched-up bit of dry-stone wall caught my eye. Naturally, my thoughts turned to how many times one can repair a wall before it ceases to be the original. Yes, I am aware…
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The Beck, the Inn, and the Blizzard: Histories of Slape Stones
I quite like this photo. It captures the sweeping valley of Slape Stones Beck, leading—predictably enough—to the hamlet of Slape Stones. The scene positively drips with tranquillity, and after the boisterous festive season perhaps a reminder to pause and simply be. How very profound. The name Slape Stones, unlike the beck, has fallen out of…
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The Skiddaw Hermit : Eccentricity on a Mountaintop
Many of you have likely heard of Millican Dalton, the so-called hermit and adventurer of Castle Crag in Borrowdale. In the 1920s and 30s, he managed to carve out a reputation by living in a cave and offering guided walks and canoe trips for tourists seeking a bit of excitement. A hermit in name only,…
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Storms, Sunlight, and a Trespass to Remember
Given the grim weather forecast of strong winds, we opted for a walk that would not risk life and limb. The summit of Latrigg offered a theatrical view: a single beam of sunlight, no doubt feeling very pleased with itself, pierced through dark clouds to spotlight a few houses near Keswick, with Bleaberry Fell lurking…
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Knock Pike and Memories of Youth and Reckless Ambition
A brief pause en route to a few days of damp splendour in the Lakes. This is Knock Pike, an outlier on the Pennine chain. A 1950 article in the Penrith Observer caught my attention. It detailed the results of a “Guides Race,” a professional fell race to the summit of this and back, starting…