Tag: National Trust
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The Art of Dry-Stone Walling
It is widely held that the valleys of Rosedale, Farndale, Bilsdale and here in Bransdale show not the faintest scratch of glacial meddling. While the ice sheets rampaged around Yorkshire like uninvited guests, the North York Moors sat apart, dry and stubborn, an island that refused to drown. Geologists cling to an old rule, which…
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February Fair-Maids
The signs are there for all to see. The frogs in the garden pond have woken, shaking off winter like old men rising from stiff chairs. Hazel catkins hang thick and yellow in the brief scraps of sunlight. A few brave daffodil buds test the air. The sun provides apricity, its setting creeps past five…
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2001: A Foot and Mouth Odyssey
25 years ago, in 2001, the country fell into an eerie stillness. Across the countryside, the “smell of death” drifted from funeral pyres as millions of animals were burned, transforming green fields into a “gigantic charnel house”. What began as a livestock disease quickly became a national trauma, exposing how fragile and tightly bound our…
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Among the Tree Guards of Bransdale
In Bransdale today, work continued among the ranks of tree guards set out over recent winters. The task was to fell the self-seeded conifer saplings that have spread so thickly through this corner of Bloworth Wood. New woodland does not simply grow and look after itself; it demands steady, patient management. From the valley floor,…
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From Parish Wall to Prime Minister
Despite the slush and the grey skies, snow lends even the most familiar ground a quiet grandeur. Roseberry Topping, half veiled in white, looks less like a hill and more like a stage set, its lines sharpened and its history briefly made visible. This wall climbing its eastern flank marks the old parish boundary between…
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The Track Through Hall Wood
Hall Wood in Farndale hides a solid, well-made track, the sort that suggests purpose and history. It is said to have led to a sawpit. If so, it kept its secret well today. I found the path, but not the pit. The wood was less forthcoming than the National Trust’s heritage records. Timber once mattered…
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Access Without Respect
A pack of a dozen mountain bikers bursts down the newly rebuilt, stone-stepped path on Roseberry Topping. Several are motor-assisted. Gravity does the rest. Gravel skitters, walkers flinch, gates are left yawning behind them. For a few loud seconds the hill is theirs, claimed by speed and noise. It looks impressive, in the way a…
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The Hidden Life of Newton Wood
All was quiet in Newton Wood today. No leaves rustling, barely a bird bothering to sing. Colour drained away. Even the fungi looked as if they had clocked off. Appearances mislead. Fungi are like icebergs. What shows above ground, the mushrooms, is only the fruit. The real organism is the mycelium, a vast web beneath…
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Initials in Stone, Mist in Motion
I stood on the summit of Roseberry Topping this morning, watching the mist drift over the fields below like a slow tide. The place felt as old as the hills, quiet enough to hear your own thoughts. Looking down at graffiti cut into the rock centuries ago only sharpened that feeling. I am guessing, of…
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Filling the Gaps on a Bransdale Hillside
A return to Bransdale, where last winter the National Trust planted 6,000 saplings onto the steep side of Bloworth Slack. The site had been clear-felled, a blank but messy page waiting for a better story than rows of timber grown for profit. To give the youngsters a fighting chance, the usual tree guards went in.…