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Wishing Trees and Megger Stones
A quandary with today’s photo, taken yesterday because I’m still a day behind. A walk from Dent village in the “hidden valley” of Dentdale up the looming Great Coum. Take your pick: a manmade feature with no history I could find, or a natural attraction draped in a legend supposedly centuries old. I’ll include both.…
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Howgills Revisited: A Day of Unhurried Views
Yesterday was a revisit to the Howgills – not exactly my usual haunt. The tally on my track record? A mere handful, alright, maybe two handfuls. Did a couple of Karrimors ( as the OMM used to be called) and several Sedbergh Hills Races. August, always hot and dry – not conducive to my athletic…
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Tebay from Roundthwaite Common
I stayed in Tebay once, lodged in a humble hostel. Otherwise, Tebay’s always been a mere waypoint on my route to the southern Lakes. Dominated by a long terrace of Victorian houses, squashed at the side of the Lune Gorge. It might once have been a remote spot, when, in the early 19th-century, Tebay was…
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Graeme’s Legacy — The history of Grime Moor
On a dull overcast day, I found myself volunteering with the National Trust at their Bridestones property. The sun, playing hide and seek in the clouds, occasionally showered the moor with some spectacular lighting. Our task was on Grime Moor, supposedly named after Graeme, a onetime local landowner. We were making habitat piles from felled…
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Ingleby Bank woods — where two bodies were found hidden
Looking down on Hagg’s Gate from the crest of Cushat Hill. Hagg’s Gate and Cushat Hill, names no one uses nowadays. Ingleby Bank, on the other hand, is a name that has roaming issues. The O.S. map claims it’s the slope of that ridge on the other side of the vale of Greenhow. But it’s…
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On This Day in 1971 — The Cairngorm Plateau Disaster
Memory, a slippery eel, isn’t it? We’re nearing 60 years since JFK was shot in Dallas—tomorrow’s the day actually, 22nd November. I can still see my dad’s face, shocked by the news as we sat around our black and white telly, flames dancing in the open coal fire. Meanwhile, young me just pondered why the…
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From Shinrin-Yoku to Komorebi
For those of us who’ve practically become one with nature by running through every type of forest imaginable, here’s a revelation: the Japanese have a term for it – ‘shinrin-yoku.’ In layman’s terms, it’s ‘forest bathing.’ Californians, ever the trend setters, are all over it. So, have I been a forest-bather all this time? Now,…
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Confluence of the Balder and Tees
I am halfway up a hill they call the ‘Hagg,’ taking in the view of the Balder joining forces with the mighty Tees, both rivers uncomfortably full to the brim. Behind me stands Cotherstone Castle — now nothing more than a glorified mound. Used to be the abode of the Fitz Hughs, and once dubbed…
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Furlongs and Furrows: A Stroll Across a Medieval Agricultural Landscape
Many times, I’ve crossed this grassy field, marching along the even undulations as if it were a colossal green corrugated roof. Rig and furrow, these ancient earthworks, show their best under the slanting rays of the low sun or when the last patches of snow yield to a thaw. Even the fall of autumn leaves…
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Storm Babet’s Legacy: The disappointing remains of the Esk
One of my particular aversions is walking, or running, along a beach, a seemingly endless repetition, a far-off point on the horizon never drawing closer. Yet, it was deemed worthwhile to undertake this stomp in order to see the substantial remains of a wooden sailing vessel cast ashore in the aftermath of Storm Babet. The…
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