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Low and High Elm Houses, Bransdale
These once neighbouring farmsteads tell a complex story. For those intrigued to know the details, take a look at my previous post. High Elm House apparently carries a date stone of 1666, probably reused, and also has “Mr Thos Chapman // 1780” carved above the byre door — but once again I forgot to look…
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Deep Grove Quarry: Smoke, Shale, and Sulphur
High on the North Yorkshire coast, Deep Grove quarry tells the story of an industry that once transformed the landscape—and filled the air with choking fumes. Between 1720 and 1860, quarrymen here carved out the earth by hand, using nothing more than picks and shovels, to extract alum shale. From this shale, alum was produced,…
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Smoke over Whitby — The Sandsend Bogey
The coast lies quiet beneath a sky heavy with cloud. Small waves slide up the beach with the ebbing tide. It is early yet; the crowds have not arrived. But beyond the headland the scene darkens. A wall of orange-stained smoke rises from the moor, its glow outlining Whitby and the Abbey. The fire on…
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The Lion Inn: Travellers’ Refuge on Blakey Ridge
Perched high on Blakey Ridge, between Rosedale and Farndale, stands the Lion Inn, proud of its claim as the highest inn on the North York Moors. It is a welcome halt for weary Coast-to-Coast walkers, who by midday are replaced by visitors seeking lunch rather than lodgings. Few, one suspects, pause to read the framed…
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The Lingdale Mine Disaster of 1953
On this day in 1953, Cleveland suffered its worst ironstone mining disaster. At Lingdale Mine, an explosion claimed the lives of eight men. The blast was sparked when the flame of an acetylene lamp ignited gas released by a rockfall deep underground. The morning shift had been underway when the fall occurred, 180 metres below…
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Down among the Thistles
The hedgerows are heavy with the spoils of summer. Blackberries shine darkly in the shade, crab apples blush among the leaves, and Rowan berries hang in bright clusters. Rosebay Willowherb releases its silky seeds to the wind, while the thistles too surrender their down, sending it drifting like smoke across the fields. Thistles are cursed…
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Sleddale: The Making of a Moorland Dale
I once thought myself original in calling Sleddale an island in a sea of heather, only to find that Elgee had written the same words long before I was born. Perhaps I had read them somewhere, the phrase lingering at the back of my mind, waiting to be claimed as my own. No matter. The…
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The Hay Barn at Bransdale Mill
Tucked away behind Bransdale Mill stands this elegant three-bay hay barn, built in stone and retiled in the 1980s. Once, each arched entrance was fitted with sturdy wooden double doors, a reminder of its working life. The barn belongs to the story of the Bransdale Mill complex, largely shaped in the 18th century under William…
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Guardian of the Cleveland Way
Had those two ominous notes from Jaws been playing in my earphones, I might have sensed what was coming. Just two notes, faster and faster, the sound of danger creeping closer. This red grouse appeared on the Cleveland Way path over Carr Ridge, no more than ten metres away, a plump silhouette against the heather.…
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From Furness to Byland: A Monastic Odyssey
Hidden in the sombrely named Vale of Nightshade, just south of Dalton-in-Furness, stand the remains of Furness Abbey. Founded in 1123 by King Stephen, it began life as a Savigniac house before being absorbed into the Cistercian order in 1147, when the Savigniacs collapsed under the weight of their own mismanagement. By the time of…
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