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Lake Greenhow: A Forgotten Relic of the Ice Age
Yesterday’s post led me to glaciers, glacial lakes, and the like. At Botton Head, my imagination ran riot. Difficult as it is to picture now, 10,000 years ago, a glacier covered the Tees Valley before me. The ice sheet, it is well-known, never quite managed to smother the North York Moors. So, naturally, I wondered…
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Newtondale: A Gorge Too Big for Its Stream
North Dale sits at the top end of Newtondale, a gorge that stretches all the way to Pickering. Newtondale is an oddity, or so everyone says, because the little Pickering Beck, which now trickles through it, could never have gouged out such a deep, narrow valley. At its tightest points, the valley is only 500…
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Mouldwarps, Misconceptions, and Mass Extermination
Only the other day, we were marvelling at the sheer number of molehills littering the fields this year. Which, naturally, means an abundance of moles—or, if one prefers their grander, more traditional name, “mouldwarps,” an old English term meaning “earth-thrower.” I remarked that their presence must indicate rich soil teeming with earthworms. The so-called “gentlemen…
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On this day in 1933, Germany passed the Enabling Act
Also known as the “Law to Remedy the Distress of People and Reich,” the act was a charmingly titled law that, in reality, handed Hitler absolute power and turned Germany into a totalitarian dictatorship. Yes, the “Gesetz zur Behebung der Not von Volk und Reich”—a masterclass in euphemism. A harmless little law that merely allowed…
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Toads and Toadies—Spanghew and Sycophants
I came across this small fellow today. Brushes with nature are always a delight, especially when they happen out of the blue, so there was no real competition for today’s photograph. Toads, as everyone ought to know, are entirely harmless. They rid gardens of unwanted insects and yet, for centuries, have been maligned as vile…
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A Stone that Once Mattered — A Forgotten Boundary
A low-angle view of a nondescript triangular stone, half-buried in a bleak expanse of dry, brown heather. The pale sandstone stands out against the darker, tangled vegetation, with the occasional patch of golden rushes breaking the monotony. In the distance, the low hill of Easby Moor stretch across the horizon, its gentle slopes leading to…
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Springtime in Bransdale
A day spent under the glaring sun in Bransdale, labouring over the track down to the Mill. Enjoying the supposed delights of spring while breaking one’s back shovelling gravel. The sheep, slow as ever, eventually grasped that the trailer contained no food for them. The view of Cockayne was, predictably, lovely, with the Lodge making…
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Lent—A Season of Daffodils, Fasting, and Fuzzy Maths
Another year, another excuse to photograph some daffodils—sorry, Lenten Lilies, as they are so charmingly called in Yorkshire. Whether these particular specimens on the bank of the River Leven in Great Ayton are the pure, wild, English variety is highly doubtful, but that won’t be such a tragedy. Now, in case anyone was unaware, this…
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Scorched Earth: A Cool Burn on Hasty Bank
Ah yes, the wonders of the so-called “cool burn”—a delightful little exercise in setting fire to the heather in supposedly small, controlled patches. The idea, we are told, is to clear out the old heather without charring the peat or moss underneath, thereby avoiding carbon loss and allowing for quick regrowth. The fire, they assure…
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An Abandoned Stone Quarry on Ayton Bank
Someone once told me, or perhaps I read it somewhere, that there were twelve quarries along the edge of the escarpment between Roseberry Topping and Easby Moor, including the one on the summit itself. Do not expect a citation; it is just one of those pointless facts that have lodged themselves in my brain, refusing…
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