Category: North York Moors
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Cloudfall
Up on the moors above Greenhow Botton today, where the Cleveland Hills were doing their best impression of a waterfall in the clouds. The kind of view that makes the uphill pedal entirely worth it. Just another quiet Wednesday on the North York Moors. At the head of the valley lies Midnight Corner, which never…
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The Pimps of Roseberry
Today’s photo is, of course, of Roseberry Topping. That dry stone wall running up the slope marks the boundary between the parishes of Newton-under-Roseberry and Great Ayton. Before the great landslip of 1912 it ran all the way to the summit. Looking at a photograph taken before 1912, you can see vegetated ground running right…
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A Bridge, a Bench and a Certain Disregard for Permission
The names clinging to these moors deserve more than just a passing glance. Beyond their historical weight, they carry a strange novelty. Take Great Hograh Moor. A name that will give nothing away until you have buried yourself in old documents, dusty dialects and philological works. That’ll stay firmly on the to-do list. Baysdale is…
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Wath Hill
A view from the rear of Cranimoor, or Cringle Moor as modern maps insist on calling it. Raisdale splits into two narrow arms, held apart by the modest bulk of Wath Hill, a hill so thoroughly “improved” for pasture that every trace of wild moor has been rubbed out. No heather, no grouse. Pheasants aplenty…
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Cold Moor: A Close Brush with Industry
Cold Moor today looks like the sort of place that looks as though history slipped it by. Green, quiet, and peaceful. You would never guess how close it came to becoming a roaring industrial scar. In 1911 the calm nearly ended. Plans were laid to turn this part of Lord Feversham’s vast estate into an…
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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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Gribdale Gate and the Edge of the Ice
A view from Cliff Rigg looking across to Gribdale Gate and Easby Moor, where the monument to Captain James Cook stands like a stubborn finger pointing at the sky. It is a landscape that seems quiet until you realise how much has happened here while humanity was busy elsewhere. Gribdale Gate is a well known…
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A Holloway to Gribdale Gate
I have long been fascinated by this track and steep-sided gorge that leads to Gribdale Gate on the Lonsdale side. Its form suggests deliberate shaping, as though carved by generations travelling to and from Great Ayton Moor. The talus slope is composed of shaley mudstone, which weathers into a slick, unstable mass, more mud than…
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The Last Trace of Fryup Church
Stonebeck Gate Farm sits quietly in Little Fryup Dale, minding its own business, yet the real story lies in the wall that cuts across the foreground. On the right of the metal gate stands ordinary random-coursed dry-stone walling, the sort seen across these hills without a second glance. To the left, however, the tone changes.…