Nearly everyone who lays eyes on Bransdale Mill is plagued by the same inquiry: What on earth is to be done with it?
When the Feversham family graciously handed over Bransdale and its forlorn mill to the National Trust in 1968, the building was little more than a crumbling relic. The roof had collapsed, the walls were in a state of picturesque disintegration, and the timberwork was either decayed or conspicuously absent. A motley assortment of groups and enthusiasts gallantly volunteered their time to bring some semblance of order to the scene. Yet, despite their noble efforts, the mill still stands as a monument to the inexhaustible demands of both time and, more pressingly, money.
Inside, the mill has been converted into a spartan bunkhouse, although it is clear that many visitors expect something more akin to the Ritz. The inconvenience of outdoor lavatories and a road that seems designed for an off-road rally rather than a leisurely drive deters all but the most adventurous. Meanwhile, the mill’s mechanism, once a marvel of industrial ingenuity, now teeters on the brink of catastrophic collapse. Restoring it would require a sum of money that might as well be counted in gold sovereigns, for all the good it does the cash-strapped National Trust.
The site, however, has pedigree. A mill has reportedly occupied this spot beside Hodge Beck since the late 13th century, when it formed part of the vast estate of the influential de Stuteville family. Lady de Stuteville’s passing in 1282 left the mill in the hands of her son, Baldwin Wake.
The present building owes its existence to William Strickland, who in 1811 decided that what the world needed was a mill with a 16-foot overshot water wheel. For good measure, the mill was expanded again in 1817 and a window lintel proclaims a further rebuilding in 1842. Corn was last milled here in 1917, and the production of grist—a brewer’s concoction made from corn—continued until 1953.
The mill’s story took a melancholic turn with the death of Dr. Edmund Strickland, William’s last surviving son, in 1923. The Feversham family acquired the mill, and a variety of tenants called it home until 1947, when a flood of biblical proportions finally drove out the last residents. Among the mill’s more curious inhabitants were Polish refugees who, in a fit of post-war ingenuity, attempted to generate electricity from the water race overflow. Their efforts, like those of many who have tried to breathe new life into Bransdale Mill, were ultimately in vain.
Source: “The Mill at the World’s End”. Bransdale Mill. Information for Volunteers. The National Trust. Undated.
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