Category: Cleveland Hills
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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 âCreenay.â As for its origin, the modern thinking is that it comes from the Old Norse âkringla,â meaning a âcircle.â However, the ever-reliable Reverend R. C. Atkinson, walking…
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The Cleveland Hills on a Myst-Hakel Morning
I slogged up through the old whinstone quarry, staring at the ground, my thoughts elsewhere. I braced myself to find the usual rubbish left behind by quad bikers, as if the world is their personal skip. I could hear them active yesterday. The frost-covered, sterile earth stretched ahead, with the bikersâ berms and humps standing…
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A Slog up Roseberry Topping and a Nod to Pagan Roots
I could claim it was a brisk dash up Roseberry Topping this morning, but in truth, it was more of a plodding trudge. Perhaps it only felt that way because I foolishly dressed for winter, not realising it would be unseasonably warm for Christmas Eve. This is the view from the summit, looking down on…
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A Ruined Shelter, a Romantic Name, and some Random Latin
An opportunistic photograph, captured during a rare moment when the winter sun managed to pierce the unrelenting gloom of an overcast day. Here I am on Cold Moorâor, if you are feeling fanciful, Mount Vittoria Plantation. I prefer the latter; it has that pretentious 19th-century flair. This narrow strip of heather moor overlooks the Donna…
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The ScaurâMusings on Glaciers and Randklufts
I revisited an old stomping ground todayâa route I came to know far too well during the 2001 Foot and Mouth epidemic, when it was the only slice of countryside not off-limits. Back then, it was decorated with the charred remains of several burnt-out cars, but these have now been swapped for a battalion of…
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An Overlooked Old Quarry on Scarth Wood Moor
What a difference from yesterday morning, with super lighting on Scarth Wood Moor. Here we have a disused sandstone quarry, now absorbed into the landscape, grazed by sheep and cattle. According to the National Park Heritage Records, it dates to the early 19th century. Meanwhile, the National Trust, who actually own the moor, appear to…
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From Beak Hills to the Cotswolds: A Tale of Unequal Farming
Cringle Moor, as seen from Cold Moor across the eastern sweep of Raisdale. Below sits Beak Hills farm, your archetypal North York Moors operation. According to their website, they mostly breed sheep on 125 acres of valley pasture, with another 300 acres of shared grazing rights on Cold Moor. They have also embraced modern farming…
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Jacksonâs BankâMedieval Trod
As you reach the top of Jacksonâs Bank, it is hard not to imagine that, at the turn of the last century, weary walkers resting upon these boulders were serenaded by the rather pastoral sounds of iron-laden trucks grinding, screeching, and clattering their way down that incline on the opposite side of Greenhow Botton. This…
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Raw Impressions: Cleveland Hills Above a Blanket of Mist
Certainly, nothing whatsoever about this view of the Cleveland Hills evokes the word ârecrudescenceââthough it is oddly suited to todayâs general mood. In the 20th century, ârecrudescenceâ came to signify the reappearance of anything thoroughly unpleasant after a period of respiteâwar, plague, outrage, crime. The 18th-century meaning was more viscerally satisfying: wounds âbreaking out afresh,â…
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Of Cloud and Candle-Rushes: Taxation, Tradition, and a Dreich Brianâs Pond
What a profoundly uninspiring morning it has beenâso much dull, grey cloud blanketing the Cleveland Hills that one might have suspected a conspiracy to make photography impossible. Still, in search of a morsel of interest, I plodded resolutely up to Brianâs Pond, which is quite possibly named in honour of that storied Irish figure, âBryan…