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Harker Gates
A picturesque Grade II listed cottage in Ardenside, meticulously maintained yet somehow exuding the melancholy air of a neglected relic. One suspects it is a holiday let rather than a cherished family home. Sir Ralph Tancred acquired the old Arden Priory estate in 1574, and it remained in the family’s grasp until the early 20th…
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The Nuns’ Well: The Last Remains of St Andrews Priory
The so-called Nuns’ Well in Ryedale is a peculiar sight, sitting incongruously among the trees. A perfect circle, 2.4 metres across, with a stepped stone base and sides, it is thought to be medieval. Its water, fed by springs, is clear enough to impress those easily impressed by such things. It lies due north of…
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Walking on Water: What Happens When Public Paths Are Washed Away?
This photo has been on the cards for a while now. It’s one for posterity. The river, as rivers do, is steadily eating away at the bank. Sooner or later—perhaps next year, perhaps in ten— that electricity transmission pole will keel over, and Holmes Bridge, if it is still standing, will connect to an island…
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Hill Hill and the Art of Furtling
It was one of those charming so-called “lazy winds”—the sort that cannot be bothered to go around you and instead cuts straight through, ensuring you feel every bit of its bitter, bone-chilling embrace. Hardly the sort of day for a leisurely stroll around Kildale Moor, but, there I have been, engaged in the enthralling task…
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Planting Trees While the Moors Burn
An exhasting day in Bransdale planting broadleaf saplings in the recently clear-felled Bloworth Wood, which sits, predictably, on the catchment of Bloworth Slack. Digging the holes was not the real issue; it was scrambling over the 45-degree slopes, ditches, brashings, and tree stumps that made it a delight. This simple photograph of the dale therefore…
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Crannimoor: A Hill, a Café, and a Case of a Misplaced Apostrophe
On Cringle or Cringley Moor, or if one wants to sound particularly archaic, Crannimoor. A Victorian writer hailing from the West Riding once claimed this was pronounced “Creenay.” As for its origin, the modern thinking is that it comes from the Old Norse ‘kringla,’ meaning a “circle.” However, the ever-reliable Reverend R. C. Atkinson, walking…
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4th February, 1921: Redundancies at Roseberry Ironstone Mine
His day began long before any sensible person would even consider waking. At 4:30 in the morning, he and his wife dragged themselves from their bed, greeted not by comfort but by the biting cold. The morning’s first ordeal was the outhouse—an unenviable journey in deep winter, where snow, ice, and the ever-present risk of…
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A Wall, a Track, and Centuries of Erosion: Bransdale’s Legacy
Ah, the wonders of dry-stone walls. This one in Bransdale is quite remarkable, though to many an eye, it might be just a very large pile of stones. Compare it to the more modest wall on the other side of the track, then maybe you’ll be as impressed as I am. It is well-built, you…
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A View from Alcock Tarn: Grasmere and Helm Crag
Another view from our recent trip to the Lakes. This surprisingly hibernal scene of the Grasmere valley, with Helm Crag taking centre stage, was captured from Alcock Tarn below Heron Pike. The green pasture fields in the valley provide a pleasant contrast to the lifeless, bracken-covered, rock-strewn hillsides. Helm Crag is often called “The Lion…
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Tarn Hows
Yesterday, I reflected on my perceived sorry state of Tarn Hows, now resembling the aftermath of a minor apocalypse. The larches, felled due to the ravages of Phytophthora ramorum, are gone, and the recent storms have left a trail of destruction. One might be reminded of those eerie photos of the Tunguska event. While the…
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