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Arncliffe — Where Eagles Once Dared
This is the sandstone crag of Arncliffe on the western edge of the North York Moors. The name comes from the Old Scandinavian word ‘ern’ for eagle. It is a pleasant fiction that these birds once nested on these rocks. A non-descript photo perhaps but it leads on to a bit of recent news. The…
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Ridsdale Ironworks Pump House
Driving along the A68 through Northumberland, most people might glance at these ruins below Ridsdale and assume they are looking at a medieval castle. They are instead looking at a Victorian industrial building — and one with a remarkable story. This engine house was likely designed to resemble a rugged border stronghold. In 1839, the…
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Rede Bridge: Carrying Nothing But a Grassy Track
Built in 1715, Rede Bridge crosses the River Rede in rural Northumberland with two confident stone arches and a smaller flood arch on the right bank. It is Grade II listed. It is, by any measure, too good a bridge for a field path. So why build it at all? The most persuasive answer involves…
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The Castle That Time, Fire, and a Small River Are Finishing Off
That eroded mound is Tarset Castle, in the North Tyne valley. The steep, undercut flanks show the ongoing damage caused by the Tarset Burn. The gentle green mound does not look like much. It is, in fact, all that’s left of a castle that was once a record-holder, a border fortress, a bonfire, a quarry,…
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Hareshaw Linn: The Waterfall That Forgot Its Past
Standing here at the foot of Hareshaw Linn, I would swear nothing had ever disturbed this place. Dripping rock. Ancient ferns. A waterfall cascading thirty feet into a rust-brown pool. It feels, as one writer put it, like “an ancient rainforest.“ It is not. Not even slightly. As we discovered from the information board at…
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Cockayne: The Land of Milk, Honey, and Mumbling Clerks
Medieval peasants dreamed of a place called Cockaigne — a land of luxury and ease where roasted pigs wandered about with knives in their backs to make carving easy, grilled geese flew directly into one’s mouth, and the wine flowed freely. Streets paved with pastry. Skies that rained cheese. You get the idea. Then someone…
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The Humble Bluebell and the Heavyweight Rift
The bluebells in Newton Wood seem a bit thin on the ground. The coverage of these flowers is not as full as in previous years. It is still early days though. In a fortnight they may well be more vibrant. Some people like the flowers. Others might remember the Scottish group called The Bluebells. Their…
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Esklets: A Proper Muddle in a Very Small Pond
Humanity is like a persistent rash, always there and difficult to ignore. We’ve been reshaping the world to fit our needs for a very long time, demonstrating our enduring desire to adapt and make things our own. During the Mesolithic period, this high moorland plateau of Esklets was not a dry waste; it featured small…
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The Ancient Yellow Field
Every spring, Britain turns yellow. These vast, almost aggressive swathes of rapeseed feel utterly modern — the crop of motorway verges, cooking oil, and biodiesel. Surely this is a 20th-century invention? Sort of. This is almost certainly some genetically engineered new cultivar, but let’s meet the navew. That is what our ancestors called rapeseed, and…
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Where the Moor Ends and the Farm Begins
A shaft of sunlight illuminates the bright green fields of Farndale, seen from the old ironstone railway line on High Blakey Moor. Brown rushes surround a small peaty pool in the foreground. Dark drystone walls cascade down the hillside beneath a wide, cloud-filled sky. The view tells a story in two colours. Up here: the…
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